The Chosen War

The banquet was nearly complete. I was sure nothing like this was recorded in Antian history. The queen was bound to give birth to the strongest generation of Fire Ants ever, after consuming such a sumptuous feast.

As the final preparations were applied, it happened. The sound we had all come to fear and loathe. It started far away, perhaps 100 yards out. A low, grating, scratching sound. We held our breaths, 80 yards out. We had purposefully rebuilt our kingdom at the farthest reaches of the land that the Walkers called "the backyard". We were so sure the Demon Dogs would never venture out here where it was reported that their tethers and lightning collars prevented them access. 60 yards, either this information had been false or a new breed of danger had arisen.

40 yards, the Chosen had already assumed their respective positions. They were ready to aim for the eyes, the nose, and other areas known to be vital and sensitive to the brutal beasts that had wiped out our clan from "the front lawn". 20 yards, the festive mood had been swiftly replaced with the mournful acceptance of needful sacrifice. 10 yards, where would we go if this did not work? 5 yards, what would happen if the Chosen, named so because they chose themselves for this grave duty, were wiped out and the Demons still came? 4, we would all perish. 3, there would be no future Fire generations; 2, stronger or otherwise. 1.

The implosion was immense, was it the same as other times or more frightening due to the building tension, I wasn't sure. In a swirl of dust and sunlight I saw the Chosen complete their mission. The Dogs fled, howling fiery murder, tails tucked tight; and we never saw them again.

Word count: 300

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Image credit: Vitaliy Gonikman   via REDBUBBLE  
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Featured in the Action/Adventure Newsletter (12/18)