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Greg, a Tennessee jumping spider, stretched his front legs. Since he'd had a horsefly for dinner, Greg wasn't interested in breakfast. Greg only ate flies and small moths, he found other species such as ants too hard-working to be a meal. Besides that, they were marvelous company when you got bored. So it was unsurprising that Greg had befriended Trace, an army ant veteran, who had lost his way. Greg had taken particular care to make Trace a little house that he would not stick to.
Trace yawned and strutted out of what he liked to call his little shack. Greg had been up early and fetched Trace a leaf or two and had run into Poka the ladybug again while doing so. She always had the most pertinent news to share and this morning's was especially interesting.
Poka was sitting next to Greg and telling him how she had heard rumors of reddish-brown beasts with wings and horrible stingers and went on to describe them in immense detail. Trace, who had been content to sit and munch on his leaves up until this point, commented that they sounded like wasps.
Insects half the size of a human's pinky at the very least, with thorn-like stingers full of immobilizing venom that could pierce through a spider's armor plating and kill them in one blow. Trace went on to explain, in a very sinister manner, how they were extremely territorial and wouldn't let anything near their nest, even humans.
Greg and Poka stared at him like wide-eyed hatchlings, something that attacked humans was formidable indeed. Trace continued that some humans were afraid of them and tried to exterminate them by whatever means necessary. He went on to explain that the humans trapped poisonous mist in a can and sprayed it on their unlucky victims. He said all this while continuously marching to and fro like he was briefing a new batch of recruits.
They all concluded that the wasps were bad news. Greg mentioned that they should do a scouting expedition, to make sure the wasps were actually there. Trace wholeheartedly agreed, eager to see some action. Poka made her leave, wished them good luck, and told them to inform her of what their expedition turned up.
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.
.
The nest was hard to get to given the amount of human stuff in the attic. Various items, chests, and boxes were littered everywhere, but they made it to their destination all the same. It was a big crate which gave them a good view of the surrounding area.
It didn't take Trace and Greg very long to confirm their suspicions. The hexagon-riddled cone was all the evidence they needed, not to mention the swarms of wasp patrols. The wasp comb had not been where they expected and was just inside the broken air vents. Feeling a little too close for comfort, Greg and Trace were about to turn around and head back when they heard a loud buzzing from behind them. They had been spotted.
Trace made no efforts to move at all. When Greg desperately tried to get him to flee Trace simply responded that their best bet was to state their intentions, show they were not a threat, and comply. Greg, though unnerved, was compelled to do the same.
Greg heard human voices below them and realized that they were going to check for the wasps very soon, all he and Trace had to do was stall. The wasps got closer, their feet and antennae twitching menacingly. Greg only hoped he could be brave enough to stall them until "help" arrived. The waps told Greg and Trace that they were trespassing. Trace merely argued that they were confirming the rumor and that with the rumor being fact no one would come near the area again.
The dangerous conversation was cut off by a laugh from a little human below and the thud of a small rock. The wasps turned toward the sound as another small rock made the wasps' nest sway and the human cried with delight. Greg could see the anger seething through them and felt a bit bad for the little human below, who was seemingly unaware of their wrath. Greg looked at Trace, who nodded, and they quickly made their escape while the wasps were distracted.
.
.
.
When they got back to their spot in the attic Greg's heart was heavy. He had just paid for ten weeks of rent only to be forced to evacuate. Greg, though very sad, did not want to be in the attic when the humans sprayed their poisonous mist. If spiders could shed tears Greg would have shed one, but he reminded himself that he was lucky to even have a plan B. He quickly took down his bug-catching web and sorrowfully took apart Trace's small shack.
With their things packed Greg and Trace looked back at their space in the attic one last time before slowly descending the side of the house. Greg tried to brighten up the mood a little, at least they would get to see more of the world. Besides Poka knew the lay of the land better than anybody, it would be easy for her to find them a nice comfortable spot.
They headed for the humans' garden with plants that towered above them. The place was full of beauty that Greg had only seen through windows and he wondered why he hadn't come to visit this beautiful place sooner. This would be way more fun than Greg had expected.
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