“Do…” How was she going to form the other side of words with a broken arm? She thought about using her left gripping arm, but the fingers were all different. The words wouldn’t make any sense. She decided to use her right arm for both sides of words. It’d take longer to speak, but then Sweet-Berries could understand her. She began again, “Do you see it?”
“See what, Yellow-Spot?” Concern showed in her voice, color-face, and smell.
“The demon.” She pointed. “Standing right there!”
“No.” Sweet-Berries looked perplexed.
“You don’t? She … it looks just like me. It’s been haunting me since I’ve been with the false gods.”
“Oh …” Sweet-Berries’ color-face still showed yellow-green concern, but then it softened to a neutral white. “So is that what told you to leave, to violate the Queen’s { } and to found a new colony?”
“Me? Found a colony? Ha!” Laughter mixed with the negative smells.
“Sister, what’d you think we were doing? Why’d you need a Nurse and a Builder who’s not you, and a Drone too, unless you were going to start a new colony?”
Yellow-Spot stared at her sister and tried ignoring the demon. The Drone was busy sniffing around. It walked right into the demon as if the demon wasn’t solid. Even though she’d seen the words, comprehension was slow to register. “So …” she said to the demon, not caring anymore that her words could be seen “Was that the plan?”
“Yes,” Yellow-Spot’s doppelganger confirmed.
Yellow-Spot looked back at Sweet-Berries, who said, “You saw how those soft-bodied false gods … those softstreat us. I can’t imagine spending so much time with them. How’d you cope?” Sweet-Berries looked at where the demon stood. “Ah, I see. Your mind created a false voice to tell you what to do.”
It made sense, or more sense than the gods implanting the demon, anyway. “How do you know so much?”
“Please, sister. The Queen sees several voices. It’s how she partitions all her responsibilities, I think. It’s a secret among us Nurses. Now, come. I think we should { }.” Sweet-Berries’ antennae touched Yellow-Spot’s. She’d expected pain from the broken antenna, but instead felt {
} surging through her, uplifting her, healing her. The person pulled away, and in that brief { } her various pains had abated.
Yellow-Spot looked at the river disappearing over the cliff. Just beyond lay a canyon with several caverns pitting the canyon walls. She knew this because she’d been with several gods …
softs who’d scouted the area. Just beyond the canyon was the southern people’s colony.
Sweet-Berries helped her sister up. When they’d been experiencing { }, it’d felt like Yellow-Spot’s pains had been healed. But now, she winced when she put pressure on her right leg.
Sweet-Berries helped Yellow-Spot walk over to the canyon’s edge. The Drone dumbly followed. Yellow-Spot gasped when she saw the southern people’s colony. Or what was left of it.
Fires blazed through much of it, domes melting and collapsing from the flames. Pale smoke streamed into the sky. She felt red anger. When she looked at the demon, it was becoming less distinct, no longer looking like the blue-furred, yellow-spotted reflection of herself.
“Do you think these false gods will ever leave us?” Yellow-Spot asked.
“They are powerful beyond any words. In a sense, they are gods, just not gods we’d ever want to worship. We’re dumb animals to them.”
“Ironic. They’re soft-skinned like many dumb animals.” Yellow-Spot patted the Drone, as if for emphasis.
“I don’t understand why they’re fighting each other. They’re so powerful.”
“Yes. We can stand here all day trying to figure out what they’re up to, but we need to find a way to get down to one of those caverns.” Yellow-Spot saw the new resolve in her voice.
“I agree.”
They heard a mewling from below. Sweet-Berries spotted the source first. “Look!” She pointed at a figure climbing up toward them. Pale, soft skinned, but with six limbs, eyes and antennae. A person that had just hatched out of her cocoon.
Sweet-Berries, being the Nurse, clambered down to meet her. Yellow-Spot stayed up above with the Drone, feeling helpless.
“Must’ve been one of the survivors,” Sweet-Berries said.
“She’s sure lucky.” Though she didn’t really believe those words. Yellow-Spot couldn’t imagine being torn from her clutchsisters. Perhaps the dead were the lucky ones.
Sweet-Berries looked over the survivor. “Her shoulders are broad and her gripping arms big and strong. She’s a Builder.”
Dark thoughts invaded Yellow-Spot. The memory of Electric-Touch stabbed her. She stepped forward. She felt herself falling.
Sweet-Berries grabbed her. She pushed Yellow-Spot into the canyon wall. “You didn’t do that on purpose, did you?”
“Please … what’s the point. Look around us. The softs have already won.”
“Is that so?” Red anger showed on Sweet-Berries’ color-face. “You force-fed me your Taste and made us touch antennae when I wanted to charge that soft. I felt the { } with you so strongly that I can almost see your thoughts. Now I understand what needs to happen. As crazy as it sounds, we need to form a new colony, a secret colony, without those softs. Whatever they did to us, that’s in the past. We need to look to the future.”
Beyond the canyon another dome collapsed, melted and burning. Yellow-Spot said,
“They forced me to learn their strange noise language only so they could communicate with us better, to subdue our culture and our colony so they could … feel better, for whatever strange purposes they use our Paste. They’re too powerful.”
“They’re just stupid, soft animals,” Sweet-Berries retorted.
Yellow-Spot looked at the Southern survivor. A ghostly figure appeared by her. Though indistinct, Yellow-Spot could see its strength and power. It gave her confidence. “We’ll name her Electric-Touch-On-Red-Fur.”
“And if she doesn’t grow red fur?”
“Who cares? The name is symbolic. A remembrance of her.”
“That’s the Yellow-Spot I know and love.” They touched antennae again, feeling renewed { }.
***
Just beyond the direct opening to the cavern, so the softs couldn’t easily see them,
Yellow-Spot lay in her oversized cell. She’d grow into it as she became a Queen. Sweet-Berries was teaching Electric-Touch the rudiments of language.