style="font-size:15px;"> By the time they returned to the anthill, muddy, scratched, and utterly exhausted, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Irra looked at her brother, their adventure still fresh in their minds.
«That,» said Frra, ’was the scariest and greatest thing we’ve ever done.»
Irra grinned, her antennae twitching with pride. «I guess the adults were right. The pond *is* dangerous. But… we’re Ant Warriors now. Nothing can stop us.»
And with that, they trudged back into the safety of their busy, bustling anthill, already dreaming of their next adventure.
The Endless Gray Ribbon
The soft dirt beneath Irra and Frra’s tiny, quick feet kicked up small puffs of dust as they scurried through the tall grass. The blades swayed gently in the afternoon breeze, towering above them like an emerald forest. Though the sun warmed their tiny bodies, excitement made their small hearts beat even faster than usual.
«Do you think the monsters are really as big as the moths say?» Irra asked, her antennae twitching nervously as she dodged around a fallen pine needle.
«Maybe,» Frra replied, his tone carrying an air of bravery. «But what if the moths are just telling stories to scare us? Maybe there’s no ribbon at all. Maybe the hill isn’t even that tall.»
Irra gave him a skeptical look. «Why would the moths lie? They’re always up high, so they can see things we can’t.»
«True,» Frra admitted. «But maybe they’re exaggerating – like the time Uncle Frrun said he fought off a whole line of soldier ants by himself.»
Irra giggled, recalling how their uncle loved to boast. But as the anthill disappeared further behind them, her excitement mingled with a tinge of unease. «We have to be careful,» she whispered, her voice suddenly softer. «If the monsters are real…»
«We’ll be fine,» Frra interrupted, puffing out his chest. «I’m fast, and you’re smart. Together, we can do anything.»
The two dashed through the dense undergrowth, weaving around ferns and mushrooms that towered like great domes. They passed clumps of moss that felt like the soft cushions of a throne and crossed a shallow trickle of water, using a bent leaf as a bridge. Finally, the world seemed to open up just a little – less trees, less grass. The ground began to feel harder under their feet, smoother in a strange way. The air smelled different too: a mix of something sharp and oily.
«We’re getting close!» Irra exclaimed, feeling her heartbeat quicken.
They scrambled up a slope with dirt packed so tight it didn’t crumble under their feet. Their tiny legs burned with effort as they climbed higher and higher. Suddenly, the grass gave way entirely as the siblings reached the crest of the hill. Both ants stopped in unison, stunned into silence.
Before them stretched the *ribbon* – the endless gray road the moths had spoken of. It was massive, far wider and longer than anything they had imagined. It cut neatly through the landscape, stretching straight to the horizon in both directions. The surface was smooth and strangely shiny in some places, pockmarked in others. Grass and trees seemed to respect its boundaries, growing only at its edges.
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