Cent's Yuenyeung [ Too Much Tea, Not Enough Coffee ]

To: Cent, Realized Their Purpose

So a long time ago, in the days when the hive was still ruled by a queen, I was but a humble drone passing the time by making stories. I was often referred to as the "Royal Talespinner," and a bee with a particular talent for performing would sometimes host events where they told my stories to the others. The first story that really caught on was the story of the Ancient One. The tree that would pick the most "worthy" sleeper every night and give them a vision of the future. It was a vague kind of worthiness that didn't really mean anything once you thought about it. But when that vague kind of worthiness exclusively applies to the bug you've been hard-wired to adore and have been working for your whole life, you kind of don't really think about it.

One day I pointed at a patch of mushrooms growing by the gas station and said that they looked a lot like human fingers. I made a whole ton of stories about them. Sometimes they were growing on top of a grave, inheriting the genes of the human that was buried there. Other times they were actually blades of grass, cast out of grass society due to their appearance. Most recently they were minions of the dark god. I guess I was the only one really enjoying playing with that concept, the rest of the hive just wanted me to stick to one explanation.

When I found out that there was a family of ants living out in the forest, my imagination went wild. I started telling stories of this team of superheroes with diverse powers and colorful personalities, saving the day from the dark god and other such malignant entities. Every week a new monster, a new battle, and a new valuable life lesson learned. I know it sounds awfully formulaic but the important part is it was a lot of fun. What the hive got from these stories, though. was that the ants in the forest were all witches.

I think the finger plants and the "witches" have essentially served as scapegoats for many of the tragedies that have occurred in that area over the years. Just last year, this butterfly named Kron (mentioned him briefly in a previous email) went missing in a snow storm. Most likely he was caught off-guard by a strong gust of wind that buried him in snow and suffocated him. Winter is such a harsh season, especially this far north, it's no wonder some bugs decide to just sleep through it all. But despite that, it was the "witches" in the forest that the hive blamed.

There is so much more I have to say about Kron, but this letter is getting way too long so it'll have to wait. I hate to keep talking about the hive when I tried to leave it behind over a month ago, but I have to get this off my mind eventually or it'll just keep gathering dust. I haven't moved anywhere since my last email. The last few days have been pretty bizarre to be honest, I haven't really made a decision on where I'm going next. I've tried to think of a way I could cross the ocean without dying to weather, waves, or starvation. It seems like such an impossible problem, but I'm not giving up yet. If all else fails, maybe I can just ask the tractor ants to build me a flying tractor. That's all from me for now.