(A little late to the party, but I would like to share a flash fiction piece linking to the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Addicted to Purple .. together with the fascinating photo by Ted Strutz)
New rainfall had washed our efforts away. A miserable, ineffective mound of earth sat at the entrance, sliding dangerously into our tunnel. We assessed the wind direction for a second before hundreds of us started to repeat our work. We were not tired, only determined.
Messages filtered down the line of an obstruction ahead. I smelt it before I saw it. Metallic. Glancing up, its height beyond my view. Some younger members had stalled in their work to investigate but the air above our heads was thick with messages directed at them to return immediately. Ants did not survive alone.