Earlier That Day
*crack* Chester loved the sound of sticks breaking under his giant paws, and there were many sticks on the ground! There are always so many during autumn, and autumn is his favorite time of the year. He particularly enjoys getting to eat lots and lots of his favorite foods and prepare for a nice long nap! Chester was currently on the hunt for berries. He had found a bush of sand plums an acre back, but the season for those had passed, so what few were left had over-ripened and left a bitter taste in his mouth. When he began to reach the outer reaches of the wetlands, he spotted a bog up ahead well known for especially delectable cranberries that grew on its bushes. As he approached, feeling the peaty mud beneath his paws, he noticed that the cranberry bushes were just out of reach of his claws without jumping into the water. He cautiously dipped his right paw into the water and, upon wetting no more than an inch past the tip of his claws, quickly withdrew himself. Chester was named for the chestnut color of his hair, and while it was certainly thick and able to protect him from the weather, he was a baby when it came to the cold. That’s why he enjoyed sleeping through winter so much! He wanted the berries so bad but was unwilling to jump in the water; just as he was about to turn around and go back hungry,
*sniff* *sniff* “Oh, I smell honey, oh yes I do!” His snout shot up into the air as he took another big whiff, “Oh, I love honey, oh yes I do!” He looked left. Now right. Now left. Righ – back left! There! He excitedly half-jumped his way over to a log lying right to the side of, what appeared to be, a particularly deep body of water. He gently patted his two front paws against the log as he put his face right up against the wood and took another deep breath. Just then, a single bee was returning from a nectar run when he spotted Chester. Knowing exactly what he was after, the bee quickly buzzed in from behind and flew into his left eye to try and scare him away. Chester flinched back with his eyes shut and growled. He blinked rapidly to ease the irritation and just noticed the bee fly into the end of the log. In a fit of rage, he growled louder and reacted thoughtlessly. He pounced for the log and….
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Shake*
*Rattle*
*CRASH*
Hymettus jerked forward as the whole beehive jostled around violently. His bee brethren tumbled around everywhere – bee bodies being thrown into each other from the initial surprise impact. Scattered rays of light broke into the hive through the cracks as the broken hive became intermeshed with the surrounding rotting wood. Disarray wasn’t just in the physical remnants of the hive, but it had spread throughout the bees themselves. Confused and angry bees took to flapping as they tried to regain their orientation. Hymettus took to his wings as well, still dazed, and instantly had to dodge a few of the other bees that were beginning to swarm everywhere. He could hear a few of the younger bees crying and asking what had happened. He was as ignorant and as anxious to find out as they were until a small group of bees came flying back into the hive and gave a warning shout of “GIIIIIAAAAANNT!”
With the knowledge of the attacker, the fear of the unknown disappeared, and with the panic out of the way, anger began to take its place. This was a known creature. A creature that had tormented bees for centuries – for millennia. Over that time, the bees had also learned how to get rid of the nuisance. It had only been a few seconds since the impact, but so many feelings had rushed through Hymettus’ head that it felt closer to the better part of an hour. He joined his brothers and sisters and they ascended from the hive. A sinister murmur could have been heard from afar, he was sure, agonizingly intensifying as every bee from the hive huddled together a few feet off the ground…. Ready to strike.
Almost as quickly as they had gathered, the bees dispersed in all different directions, surrounding the chestnut-colored giant in a sort of bee coat. The giant had risen onto his hind legs and began to flail his arms. Bees crawled across his back paws and nape, straight towards the eyes and into his ear canals. The giant opened his mouth wide to growl and a few even buzzed into his mouth. Then there came the ultimate sacrifice. A select few rose to the occasion to be the bravest of the warriors, giving their stingers – and their lives – for the protection of the colony. One of those brave soldiers even happened to be one of the bees on the giant’s tongue. The giant let out a yelp as he thrashed wildly, knocking some bees down as he stumbled to the side. He went face first, splashing straight into the deep, cold water.
The buzz had turned somber – oddly reminiscent of the same one obtained from a little too much mead. The battle had been won, but not without a cost. The bees had lost their honey, their home, and – for a few – even their lives.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Winter is coming, and the bees are weak. It’s time we make our move,” the Queen ordered graciously.
Her general replied obediently. “Yes, Your Grace. We’ll move on their hidden cache at once.”
Volo Bog, Volo Bog State Natural Area, Illinois, USA
McGhiever (2011). Source: Wikipedia
Author’s Note: Oh, how I wanted to name this “The Bear and the Maiden Fair!” Too bad that would make no sense, so I had to settle for something a little more subtle. Anywho, I retold another of Aesop’s Fables this week with “The Bear and the Bees.” Ooh, betcha never would’ve guessed that title! I took a little twist (or a big one? I don’t know) from last week and actually started the first half of this story from the point of view of the bear. And the time the bear’s point of view is happening correlates to the time Hymettus is telling us his wonderful story about Queen Hymetta! I did think it would be a nice little touch to start out the bear’s story with the *crack* of the stick, since the last story ended with its own sounds. I also changed the initial sting from the story, because in Aesop’s version, the bee stings the bee before flying back into the log, which wouldn’t have made sense when my last story ended with the stipulation that the use of the stinger would bring death. So, I just had a few brave little bee souls sacrifice themselves at the end. Of course, I also had to mess with the ending again just because, well, no one would want to come back if I didn’t entice you with promises of more dramatic moments and whatnot.
Bibliography: "The Bear and the Bees" translator not identified, from Aesop's Fables (translation 1919). Web source: Project Gutenberg