Upping The Ante

109. More Marsh Explorations

[You have consumed a new source of Biomass: Sus Aquarum Armatae. You are awarded one Biomass.]

[Basic profile of Sus Aquarum Armatae has been unlocked.]

[Sus Aquarum Armatae: Armoured Water Pig. This giant monster possesses a robust defence, boasting a tough skin and extremely durable shell. Offensively, the Water Pig can deploy its vicious bite and has been known to utilise water magic to attack its foes.]

Water magic huh? This one didn’t use it, but it may not have had the chance.

After the fight, I had Tiny tip the beast onto its back, a difficult feat even for him, and we commenced feasting on the creature’s flabby Biomass.

Somewhat vindictively, I started on the legs.

Damn pig!

My legs have regenerated at this point. The new limbs are still somewhat stiff and a little tender, nothing a day or two won’t fix. Having my legs get eaten is still irritating.

[“We need to make sure we don’t get ambushed by these damn Water Pigs again, guys.”]

[Tasty,] Tiny disagrees.

“Yeah, tasty!” Vibrant registers her opinion cheerfully.

[I will be three times as vigilant! No such filth shall approach you again.] Crinis furiously wiggles her tentacles in the air to emphasise her words.

The unity of this group is severely lacking.

More to the point, listen to me, dammit!

Other than Crinis, the other two are only interested in eating.

She might get a little over-enthused sometimes, but at least she listens and pays attention.

[Thanks, Crinis, I appreciate your efforts.] I give her a quick tap on the top of her tennis ball form with an antenna.

[HAGA!]

Eh?

Standing next to me, elevating her main body on a few slender limbs, Crinis freezes and ever so slowly, begins to topple over until she’s lying flat on the ground.

“What happened to Crinny!” Vibrant scurries over to the small mass of tentacles lying unnaturally still on the ground, poking her friend with a foreleg.

…All of them are useless. Hopefully, the next generation of ants will prove to be more helpful than this lot.

Did I just jinx myself? No flags! Shut up, Anthony!

After finishing off the pig and letting Crinis recover until she’s able to take her place on my back, I pause to consider the next move. The lush growth of the marsh Expanse surrounds us, pools of murky water everywhere and the extensive mangrove-like trees with their vast, overly fleshy leaves.

Those small shadows are still up there also. Little shapes that change their position every now and again, shuttling about in their own airy domain. I think I’ll get myself up there. I’ve had enough grubbing about down here.

More than anything, I’m curious as to what those creatures are. What exactly are they doing up there?

Informing the others of my plan, I head straight to the nearest tree and place one claw against the wood of its trunk. There’s something odd about this bark. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Not that I have fingers. Leaning back, I reach forward with my front four legs and try to pull myself up.

Slippery!

Sticky!

What is up with this tree? I can’t quite get my claws to dig into it. Not only do they slide off, refusing to properly grip into the soft looking bark, they also feel gummed up, as if coated in some invisible substance.

Damn tree. How dare you resist my claws! As an ant, I will not be denied my natural born right to walk vertically on anything I darn well, please! There are species of ants that can hang upside down on glass back on Earth. For a tree to try and stop me climbing has lit a fire in my ant heart.

I shall climb!

Determined and alight with the pride of all ant-kind, I kick sharply off the ground and latch onto the tree with all of my claws, gripping for all I’m worth. Come on, Enhanced Grip! Do me proud!

The tree isn’t having it. My claws slide and lock up, but I refuse to give in. Grip, Grip, Grip!

Like a barehanded climber with six legs, I force my claws to bite deep into the trunk and grasp hold before hauling the rest of my body up. Good thing I’m not that heavy for a monster relative to my Might stat. Even so, it takes all my strength to pull my body up, and by the time I reach the top I’m a heaving, gasping mess.

[Are you all right, Master?] Crinis asks from my back.

Ah. This deceptively heavy ball of unending hunger was on me. I forgot.

Still! That tree is resistant to climbing to a ridiculous degree. That was insane. I can walk upside down on wet rocks no problem, but climbing this stupid thing was nearly impossible.

Shaking myself, I push my legs back under me and look about. I’ve reached the lowest of the branches that reach out across the marsh. In front of me are thick leaves, each one larger than I am, and small shapes creeping over them.

All right then, what are these things?

Bracing myself by gripping tight and moving slow, I begin to creep out along the length of the branch toward its end. As I draw closer to the oversized leaves, the creatures creeping about on them become clearer.

Small, soft looking green shells, round chubby looking body, and thin, stick-like legs.

Something deep within my ant brain sparks as if struck by lightning.

Are those… APHIDS?

Excitement builds in my belly.

Many people on Earth don’t realise it, but some species of ants are farmers, and have used farming to produce their food for hundreds of thousands of years. Leafcutter ants harvest leaves, not because they eat the leaves, but because they use the leaves to grow a species of mould deep within their nests that they eat. Herder ants, among other kinds, perform a different type of farming. They keep aphids. The aphids feast on the leaves of trees and plants, and when approached by the ant, offer up a sugary liquid produced in their business district which the ants eat. In return, the ants protect the aphids and shelter them from harm. Even picking them up and moving them to the best positions on the plant.

Looking at these little monstrous aphids, each one the size of a school bag creeping about, I begin to wonder about the possibilities that might present themselves. Ants and aphids have a long history of cooperative coexistence.

In the deep recesses of my brain, a farming scheme is taking shape.

Eagerly, I advance down the branch and step out onto the broad leaf on which one of the little green fuzzy insects is feeding. The leaf takes my weight, and I gradually approach the little bug. As I draw close, the creature freezes and huddles flat on the surface of the leaf.

As I stand over it, the creature’s shivering begins to ease off when I don’t attack it. Gradually, slowly, the little aphid excretes a thick, gel-like fluid from its back.

My antennae twitch at the scent.

Biomass!

My eyes gleam with avarice.