The Lesson of Fire
The clearing buzzed with new life.
Not calm, not safe — but alive in a way it hadn't been for weeks. Scarabs hammered the ground flat to form a training pit. Glowbeetles hovered above, their soft light flickering over faces too tired to smile but too stubborn to stop. The Elder's threads hung between trees like quiet guardians, swaying with each breath of wind.
Buzz stood in the center, watching everyone move. His claws were wrapped in thin layers of silk, the gold glow under his shell dim but constant. He felt weaker than he looked, but he couldn't show it. Not now.
Zza tossed him a bundle of damp silk and crossed her arms. "You're bleeding again."
He caught it, pressed it against the cut on his shoulder, and shrugged. "Guess I missed a spot."
"You missed three."
He smiled faintly. "You keep count?"
"Someone has to." She looked around the clearing. "They're watching you. Don't mess up."
"Good pep talk."
She smirked. "I learned from you."
