Being a bumblebee isn't easy, I thought as I surveyed my flower field. My kindred bumble around calmly, collecting the precious nectar that would later become honey. Normally, we wouldn't have surplus nectar, as we consumed most to get through the day. But I was smart.

  An unseen human who was picnicking a couple of hundred yards away left his book of forbidden knowledge wide open for me to read. It spoke about the horrors of those who, failing to prepare for "winter," suffer a horrible death of starvation and freezing in its gelid jaws. But there was a particularly wise breed of ants—certainly wiser than the roaming black ants near our nest—that began hoarding resources to the point where surviving fall was a given, and "winter" wasn't that much more difficult. It was certainly more productive than waging war against the red ants day after day.

  I, thus, decided that our nest needed to be prepared for winter and dubbed my clan the Bumble-ants. "Antbees" had been proposed but was quickly discarded, as being a bee came before being an ant. Ants were merely inspirational.

  It took a lot of inspiration to build what we've achieved. The flower field, with the most select and nutritious breeds, had enabled us to produce more than we consume. I watched with pride as my kin filled their nectar stomachs and carried it safely to our abode, tactically placed near the roots of the tree. Some rats had been living there before, but after I attested to the ideal conditions of the burrow, they were "persuaded" to cede ownership to the Bumble-ants.

  I softly pressed my many feet on the velvety petals of the flower, inhaling deeply the unique fragrance of this particular bloom. I caressed it with my antennae, fondly remembering how I'd carried the pollen from her dad and later collected the little seed that would become the lighthouse of our hope. I lay on the petals and let the wind rock me. The Bumble-ants would never die.

  A terrible noise woke me from my peaceful rest, and my kin loudly batted their wings. A distinct, acrid smell made me fully focus on the present: the hive was in danger. I took flight just in time, as a human child stomped furiously on my flower, the one I'd taken care of for so long.

  I watched with ire as its malicious face twisted with glee, proud of his destruction. Not content, he summoned others like him who wantonly destroyed more and more of our field, of our future. I had to stop them; I had to save the hive!

  I sent the signal, and five of us flew in a delta formation straight to the nape of their leader, stinging him. The fiend receded in pain, stumbling and crying. Then he turned to face us, both frightened and wrathful. I knew from the look in his devious eyes that if he had the power, he'd burn down the whole world with everyone in it.

  I beelined to his face and jabbed him right in the eye, and he doubled over in his shrieks, gathering his minions and retreating while clutching his face. That's right. Run while you can, fiend! No one messes with the Bumble-ants!

  After celebrating our momentary victory over the hairless creatures, I gathered my forces and planned for reconstruction. Although we had defeated the blob-fish descendants, they had left a trail of destruction in their wake. This would heavily impact our production rate for the season, I sighed.

  We returned to the nest, deftly dodging the branches and boulders, slipping into our refuge. The honeycombs were filled, as we were nearing the fall, and our collection was almost complete. Winter would have been a given had it not been for this intrusion.

  The queen left her chambers to meet me, and despite her prodigious size, her feet made no mark on the amber cells. She looked at me and asked for a report. I fiddled with my antennae, rapidly explaining that a threat had come to our fields. She nodded knowingly. Humans usually stayed away from our affairs if we stayed out of theirs—an ancient but solid pact.

  The queen explained that these beings I saw must have been their larvae, unaware of the ways of nature. I trembled at the thought of what a fully grown one would look like if the larva was so disgusting.

  Perhaps they were fire-spewing, cyclopean creatures towering to the sky, propelled by smoke mechanisms that allowed them to reach even the fastest bumblebee. It dawned upon me that, despite having stolen their intel, I hadn't seen the human who owned the book. I could have died!

  I hastily moved my feet. I had to explain to the queen that we needed to strike back or the whole plan would fall to shambles! She listened to me but crossed her front feet in an "X". We had no chance, according to her. I went to sleep and hugged myself to the others, hoping the fiends would not return.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  I felt a sharp pain as a stick pierced one of my antennae and jolted to my feet to see what was going on. The stick came out and then attacked once again. I flew off the nest and gathered my team.

  Outside, the fiends laughed, squeaking in pleasure as they brought death to my kin. I commanded the entire nest to target one of them, but as we tried to jab him, our stingers failed to pierce his gleaming white armor. The shine was overwhelming, and I failed to see as a stream of fire consumed at least three of my bees. I ordered them to retreat and regroup at the top of the tree.

  There was nothing we could do as they riddled our nest with holes and set it on fire. I looked at one of my friends and gestured a question. He shook his head. The queen was still in the wreckage. As dusk approached, the things realized that our nest had been filled with honey and proceeded to ransack our food for the winter. I wanted to rage, to follow them into their own nest and set it on fire, but there was nothing I could do but watch the eye-patched barbarian lick the fruits of our hard labor off his dirty stick, making disgusting noises as he gurgled on it. I hoped for him to choke, but he was just fine as he walked back to whatever hellhole he had crawled from. At least I took out one of his eyes. We slept in the wild, suffering even more losses to the cold.

  When the sun rose, the bees moved sluggishly to the wreck, trying to salvage anything of use. With the wax protection broken, the honey had become sullied, and most of it seeped into the ground.

  The queen had died in the first barrage, her organs spilled on the sticky ground, food for vermin. I sent a word of comfort to the others: the queen was dead, but most of her eggs remained. We could turn a part of our resources into making one of them the next queen, and the Bumble-ants would survive, if barely. The bees got to work and patched up the nest, reconstructing the damage. It would take quite a bit of time to get back on our feet, and worse still, even when we did, what would prevent those things from coming back and taking it all away?

  A bright idea came to mind. I called the chief worker and had him send the bees to begin producing a second nest near a node up in the tree. It wasn't ideal, but it would do now that there were fewer of us. The chief understood but asked why we wouldn't stop construction here. I told him to just do as I instructed.

  The days passed, and the tyrants rampaged through our flower field. Little remained of it now—barely enough to feed us for the day. But I had planned our revenge. On the day both nests were completed, I summoned my second-in-command and showed him a special place I had seen, deep in the forest. The path was long, but the wait was worth the trouble. He looked at me with disbelief as I pointed to the compound blue flowers blossoming from some swampy water and then to the black buds next to a rotten stump. He gestured that those were poison and that eating them would kill us. I nodded; that's why I planned to make honey out of them. He first frowned with all five of his eyes, but later widened them in understanding. We both nodded for an entire minute before collecting the nectar in our honey stomachs, gathering as much of the poison as we could.

  The days went by, and the climate grew colder. We worked hard, and hunger made us work even harder each passing day. The old and crippled were disposed of, and our numbers thinned. The flower field was nothing but a memory, and the humans had grown bored of killing something that didn't fight back. They inched for our decoy nest; we were ready. The single-eyed beast scratched his nose with a pointy stick and deemed it worthy of the unholy task. He chuckled to himself and gestured to the others. Out of a tiny pack, they got their protective white suits, wearing them and jigging devilishly in anticipation.

  I narrowed my eyes. "Let's see how much those will protect you now". They pressed on a can and lit it, spraying fire preemptively on our decoy nest. I gestured to my second-in-command. He nodded, and ten old bees nearing the end of their cycle went forward against them. The devils put a quick end to their lives, consuming them with fire. My expression hardened, but it was what had to be done. They couldn't grow suspicious.

  Eye-patch struck with his stick, greedily smiling at the load of honey, and beckoned the others to try it. They resisted at first, but finally agreed to try it with their own sticks. They stabbed and poked and probed the nest, getting plenty of honey each time, feasting and filling their guts with what would have gotten us through five winters, had it not been for that one detail.

  The hour mark arrived, and Eye-patch clutched his bloated stomach, crying for a while. The others tried to assist him, but quickly succumbed as well. Their screams echoed through the forest as they puked blood on top of each other. One tried to gag himself with his fingers, but only a viscous crimson liquid came out. It was too late for that. The hours passed, and they screamed and kicked and cried for their mothers to come get them, but no one came. The only sound besides theirs was the buzzing of the bumblebees.

  Being a bumblebee isn't easy. Sometimes, the crusts get stuck to your fur, or the hairs stiffened by coagulated blood make you stumble. Working through the sinews and half-eaten meat would be almost impossible if we hadn't gotten the aid of our friendly neighbors, the ants. They even managed to cut a treaty for this particular opportunity I brought them. My kindred laboriously bored through the soft tissue into the marrow that would later become honey. Normally, we wouldn't be able to do this, but we aren't normal, are we? I deposited a particularly protein-dense nervous tissue I'd discovered inside the thick head of Eye-patch next to the pulping royal egg. Being a queen works up an appetite that you wouldn't believe. Soon enough, we'll get to every corner of the world. After all, the Bumble-ants will never die.