{
  "$type": "site.standard.document",
  "canonicalUrl": "https://serpentsquiggles.neocities.org//posts/black-nerve/chimhop/28",
  "path": "/posts/black-nerve/chimhop/28",
  "publishedAt": "2023-01-31T00:00:00.000Z",
  "site": "at://did:plc:ivoe7cntxuy6at7uzmxzs2ft/site.standard.publication/3mfk6cpprzt2t",
  "textContent": "::: subchapter\n\"There's something strange about the direhound,\" Quessa replied quietly\nto the gray nymph.\n\nThe atmosphere has changed now, after they'd at last seen and heard a\nthird flare. Gone went the panic of uncertain failure, anxiety at what\nthey would do to help. There is still cause for fear, still things to\ndread --- but they were back to the clarity of mission parameters. The\nplan marched on.\n\nJust a few paces from them, the black and white ant stands, that one's\nsingle remaining antennae working dutifully, a foreleg stabbing at a map\ndrawn in lines in the mud. She can see the squiggles representing the\ngully ahead: their destination, where this would all end. If those\ncrosses are their group, they wouldn't be far now.\n\nThe map is lit by torches placed adjacent to illuminate, and beside each\nstands a major at attention, antennae outstretched. Quessa idly eyes\nthem, but she's trying to listen to the gray nymph, to hear out his\nplans.\n\nHis latest suggestion? Use her nouspells --- her secret, Yanseno said\nyou shouldn't use these carelessly nouspells --- on the direhound ---\non the mammal --- to confuse or hinder it.\n\n\"Is that good or bad?\" he asked, after a few moments without her\nfollowing up on her comment. \"Do you think it'll work?\"\n\n\"It shouldn't, not effectively. Nouspells target the nous. Bugs,\nintelligent bugs, have it. But beasts... it's faint, underdeveloped,\nyes?\"\n\nHe nodded as if he'd heard it explained before. He murmured, \"It's not\nall there is to intelligence, though. Beasts still have feelings.\nOoncerta always said...\"\n\n\"Still, without a full nous, so many nouspells just can't take hold.\nExcept... it's speculation, not even my own speculation, but Yanseno got\na good look at the direhound out there, and... you know how he's a\nsensor? He sensed, and the direhound... it had almost sentient levels\nof nou-enervate. But not in the brain. The brain seemed normal, for\ndirebeasts --- within the norm, at least. No, this was spread out,\nflowing through the body, and without the aura of nousomatic nerve.\nWait no, I messed it up. Not flowing, pulsing --- he said it was as\nif the blood had a mind.\"\n\nThe gray nymph glanced down at his endowed arm --- he'd reapplied the\nbandages, at some point, but they were bloody. He seemed to think on\nwhat Quessa suggested. \"Is that... well, does it make sense? Could it\nbe possible?\"\n\n\"I've never heard of anything like it. Whatever it is... maybe\nnouspells could interfere with it. But we can't plan for that.\"\n\n\"So we'll... what? Can you hit it with that stunning spell?\"\n\n\"I... I'll try. But we can't plan for that, either. I haven't mastered\nit. And Yanseno doesn't want me using it if he's not there to watch,\nand I ---\" She stops, and then she cringes because the nymph's eyes\ndon't miss her tarsi making the signs. She casts a nouspell on herself,\nand continues, \"Nevermind, we should get into position.\"\n\nWords formed on his palps, but they die in motions as chirping and\nwaving torches draw both their gazes to the forest beyond.\n\nIt wasn't the direhound.\n\nTreading closer, Quessa makes a tarsign, coils twisting in preparation\nfor a bane blast, should she need to cast one.\n\nBut she didn't. Not yet. As they near the torchlight, she recognizes\nan ant she saw earlier. Paler chitin, with pretty brown cloth. The new\nant approached alongside a limping major.\n\nHad there been another attack? she thought. Quessa scanned the ranks\nof their ants until her eyes stopped on recognizable blue weft.\n\"...Bites Water,\" she names after a moment, calling for this one's\nattention as she crosses the distance. \"What's the situation? Can you\nfind out for us?\"\n\nMeanwhile, after directing the major to lean beside another, the paler\nant breaks off and makes a straight line for the black and white clothed\nleader. They enter quiet conversation, backs turned.\n\nShe had heard the other group light all three flares. But...\n\nQuessa taps the gray nymph. \"How many ants were there, with the other\ngroup?\"\n\n\"Well, there was that little one and three big ones?\"\n\nQuessa nods. That meant now, all the other ants must have been routed\nhere. Still, the red nymph and purple nymph had used all three flares.\nHad they managed to keep the plan on track all on their own?\n\nBites Water is breaking off from the group of ants, stepping back toward\nthem. This one's antennae now work anxiously. When the blue clothed\nant stops in front of Quessa, the chirps that intersperse the\ncommunication are hesitant, low keyed. The bright, sharp light of\nQuessa's riftlight spell cut harsh shadows on the ant's face that feel\nalmost appropriate.\n\n\"Uu. These ones have \\[issue\\]. The One Who \\[Walks\\] Upon \\[Sands :\nFine\\] was one who \\[flees\\] the \\[nearness\\] of \\[dog : evil\\]. Those\nones who are \\[Duskborn\\] had \\[distance\\] from \\[position : planned\\].\n\\[Routing\\] of \\[evildog\\] at \\[then\\] means \\[routing : wrong\\]. Not\nin \\[gully\\].\"\n\nQuessa frowns. Parsing through the text the ant is showing her, her\nfrown deepens with her understanding. Beside her, the gray nymph looks\ntowards her with request, antennae extending outward as if reaching for\nunderstanding. Above them, a droplet of water drips from a wet leaf and\nsplashes on the gray nymph's antennae fuzz. The gray nymph flinches,\nand Quessa giggles for a second.\n\nThen she explains it to him, \"The plan was to first lure the direhound\ninto the gully that runs to here from a little farther north, then flush\nit down.\" She's looking to Bites Water as she explains, the ant\nnodding, assuring her she wasn't forgetting or misremembering it. \"This\nway, we could wait for it at the other end of the gully, and lay a more\nsure trap. But if it's not following the gully, it's harder to say\nwhere it's going to go.\" The clarity of the mission was escaping them\nagain. Was it falling apart?\n\nThen Quessa stops. So often, recalling knowledge feels like grasping\nfor things through a choking fog, her quarry eluding her, if only by\ninches. Tedious, frustrating, failure-prone --- but oh, so familiar.\nSo it's always startling when the winds change, and the fog eases to\nreveal an old thought. Not clearly, but so much less vague that she\ngasps.\n\nHer gaze jumps immediately from the ant to the gray nymph. She\nremembers a conversation they had earlier, at the tavern. \"You said the\ndirehound was following you, hunting you.\"\n\nHe nods. \"And the howls are like...\"\n\n\"...it's speaking your name,\" she finishes. He seems momentarily\nsurprised by her remembering.\n\nQuessa looks back to the ant in blue clothe. \"Can you tell the one in\ncharge I might have an idea?\"\n\nBites Water stops rubbing antennae, the bald lengths straightening with\nwhat looks like hope. Bites Wates scurries back toward the ant in black\nand white. Quessa follows at stride. After all, if the direhound is\nalready moving, they don't have much time to get things set up.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nAnts have an easier time moving through the forest than the nymphs do.\nThe mantids are bigger, needing to step around the bushes and trees\nclustered far too near to each other, rerouting to places that the ants\ncan just crawl to. Around the banks of the gully, though, the trees\nclear.\n\nNot far from her, ants are huddled separately, antennating and chirping\namong each other. The nice gray nymph had left her, as part of the plan,\nand now the green nymph stands here, alone. She doesn't even have a\ntorch for light. She didn't need it (just cast a riftlight), but\nobscured in shadow, she's some night monster, staring at the living.\n\nIt's just three majors, the leader, and the One Who Bites Water with\nthem now. They had treated the first injured major, and the second\nwasn't as badly off, so they'd all been fit to return to the gate. Two\nnymphs, five ants.\n\nWatching the group entranced her, for all that her thoughts seemed\nscattered and nonspecific. She tries to focus.\n\nWere the ants worried? Quessa wondered. Did they feel anxious at how\nmucked up this mission has gotten, from our mistakes?\n\nA new thought occurred to her, shining clear in the mental fog.\n\n\"Put out your torches,\" she stridulates with force, hoping it carries to\nat least some of the ants. \"Try to hide!\"\n\nIt would all crumble if the hound saw them, all the bugs and fire\nserving just to spook it.\n\nThe ants stare at her in reply, eyes small and black and unreadable in\nthe distance. Before doing anything they look to the black and white\nant, seeking a second, more trustworthy opinion. Seeing this clicks\ntogether into a thought. They don't trust me. They don't trust any\nof us. Quessa looks to the other nymph.\n\nThe gray nymph steps now through the gully, advancing towards a wider,\ndryer segment. She tries to not to see it as an arena. It's supposed\nto be a deathtrap. They'd pitch oil at it, the gray nymph would light\nit on fire, and it would just die and give them all peace.\n\nRight now, the other nymph holds the blazing torch lit low to the\nground. They picked this place for being gravelly and dry --- how the\nrain had left the forest so muddy the one defect in their plan. So\nnow the gray nymph bided his time, his torch drying the ground ever\nfurther.\n\nAnts wait. Their real leader must have given the go ahead, because\nthey'd extinguished their torches and retreated to cover behind ferns\nand fat mushrooms.\n\nQuessa's antennae bounce as she too waits. Her eyes flick over the ants\nand the gray nymph and then to the west, hoping and dreading for the\nbeast to emerge. She stares at the ants and can almost see the plan\nin execution. The soldiers will rush forward, pitching oil and throwing\nweighted nets to trap the beast.\n\nAnticipation growing, she replays that image of everything going right\nonce more, and then again, and then --- the thought slips away from\nher. It's all fog. She can't see it anymore. She can find where the\nants are waiting, slowly forcing her eyes to trace an arc that a net or\nfragile oil flask might follow.\n\nQuessa frowns. That bothers her. What was she thinking ",
  "title": "A Murderous Misdirection"
}