Somewhere in a big forest, a small isopod scurried through the decaying log, a
large scarlet centipede in close pursuit. The panicked crustation weaved through
mushrooms and moss, before coming to a dead end, the shadow of the centipede
looming over him. Glistening venom seeped from its fangs as the isopod breathed in its
last moments. The arthropod lunged for its prey, and a crunch echoed through the
damp corridors.
***
Ash groomed his antenna while sitting on a ledge, overlooking the colony. He
watched as water dripped from the rock ceiling and onto the oyster mushrooms that
decorated the walls. It flowed into crevasses along a rotting log, and soaked into the
mossy floor. The climate around this area was almost always moist, perfect conditions
for the isopod culture. The area was abundant in rotting organic material, which made
an ideal diet for detritivores and ensured the colony would never go hungry. The colony
itself was made up of over 50 isopods, split into 3 groups, the guardians, gatherers and
nurturers. Guardians were in charge of keeping the colony safe from threats: They
spent their time scouting unfamiliar territory and warning others when a predator was
nearby, these isopods tend to die the most. Gatherers collect material to repair and
expand the camp, as well as gathering food for expecting mothers. The Nurturers rarely
left camp, these isopods kept the colony's population stable by constant breeding.
However, the mothers often had to be forcefully separated from her young to prevent
cannibalism. Ash was a Guardian. He was aware of how dangerous it was, sometimes
wishing he was a gatherer or nurturer, but whether he liked it or not the role was his.
The silver isopod opened his gills and breathed in the air, he smelled the morning
dew, nearby food, and the scent of his fellow isopods. Deciding it was about time to
start his day, Ash quickly crawled down from his perch and met up with his
patrol.“Where are we going today?” Ash queried. The patrol leader, an isopod named
Thorn, quickly returned an answer, “There’s been sightings of a centipede living nearby
the log pile, we’re going to investigate and determine if there’s a threat.” A centipede?
Ash had been terrified of those monstrous scolopendra ever since he was a manca. He
had heard of centipedes attacking isopod cultures, leaving half-eaten corpses scattered
about. While the rest of the patrol marched forward as if they did not fear death, Ash
lingered behind, terrified of what may lie ahead. Leaving camp, they moved carefully
along the creek. Ash took in his surroundings, the rushing water, the songbirds chirping,
the ground beneath his legs and the warm breeze. Soon, they reached their destination.
Ash gazed upwards at the pile of rotting logs, mushrooms sprouted out the sides and
vines hung from every angle. A perfect hiding place for a centipede. “Alright, let’s go in.”
Thorn commanded. Ash followed as the patrol entered through a small chasm in the
side of a log. Immediately upon entering the area, Ash sensed the putrid smell of
centipede, he scrunched his face and then turned to the rest of the patrol. “So, what do
we do now?” One isopod asked. “We kill the centipede!” Another answered
energetically. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Thorn scolded “It would be foolish to even attempt
to, our job is to find out where the centipede is, and if it’s a threat to the colony.” The
patrol shared murmurs and then followed Thorn deeper into the decrepit wood, they
wandered for some time before Ash heard the sound of rapid steps nearby. “Guys, I
think-” Before Ash could finish his sentence, the large centipede burst through the wall.
“SCATTER!” Thorn screeched, immediately the patrol split up, everyone ran in separate
directions before Ash could process what was going on. Suddenly, Ash was all alone,
face to face with the beast.
Time seemed to slow at this moment as Ash stood in terror of the certain death
that awaited him within the blood red jaws of the centipede. Unsure of himself, Ash did
the only thing he could think of at that moment, he ran. He ran as fast as he could, but
there was only so far his little legs could carry him. The pounding of the centipede as it
ran seemed to shake the ground all around him. Just when Ash was sure he was done
for, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. A hole, large enough for an isopod to go
through, but not large enough for a centipede. Regaining hope, Ash pushed himself
more than he thought possible, pure adrenaline controlling his every movement. Ash
curled into a ball and rolled into the hole just in time, narrowly avoiding becoming the
centipede’s meal. The centipede gazed into the hole scornfully, upset it had lost its prey.
Ash was beyond relieved, he waited for a long while to catch his breath and to make
sure the centipede was gone for sure. He then crawled out of the log hurriedly, returning
to camp. When he returned, he found that the rest of his patrol had also made it back
safely. He went to sleep and felt that whatever the next day threw at him, he could
handle it.