A large hairy spider held a rat in her jaw. She had stabbed her sharp pincers in the creature’s chest, pumping volatile neurotoxin into its body. The rat was struggling and screeching, and trying to escape the spider, but she had it tightly bound between her strong front legs and her chitin jaw.

She had laid the groundwork over several days and waited, hidden under the carpet of dead brown leaves to catch the rat. It was her meal; she wasn’t going to let it getaway.

The rat tried to overpower her, but she wasn’t some ordinary web spinner that filed her belly gorging on yucky bugs and incests! No. She was the queen of land, the master of disguise, the fearful tarantula whose presence alone terrorized predators, much less prey like the pathetic rodent.

The rat’s once incessant struggle was slowly seizing and giving way to slow and irregular shrugs and muscular twitches. It was on its last breaths; just perfect for her. A little more and she could enjoy her meal and call it a night.

Once it died, she carted the rat to her burrow some thirty meters away, dragged it inside her dry home, closed the entrance behind with a heavy rock, and started feeding.

Sometime later, she was almost finished slurping the juicy insides of the rat —turned gooey by the effect of her mass dissolving venom— when she smelled a presence.

It was a minute disturbance, too small for her attention, but enough to demand vigilance.

She knew how dangerous a wasp could be. She didn’t want to wake up catatonic from head to bottom with a number of larvae growing inside her.

She shifted the rock to peek through the gap and found the movement being caused by a passing pair of colorful ants. There was a kind of ants that she feared, but these were not them. Those tiny pests moved together in an army of thousands. There was no getting out of their jaws once caught; but these would be of no threat to her. She knew from experience.

She plugged the rock back in its place and went directly to her meal. These little ants were mindful of her and also good house pets; they even cleaned her porch from time to time by disposing of the leftovers.

Finished feeding she went directly to sleep. It felt wonderful sleeping on a full stomach. She chased rats and mares in her dream, catching and eating to her heart content when she smelled the scents again, stronger than ever. Then she was bit and woke up annoyed.

They were at it again, trying to steal her leftovers. That's what she thought. And she couldn’t have been more wrong! The ants were up to something, indeed, but they were there for her, not her leftovers. She was surrounded by hundreds of the tiny little pests. They were everywhere: crawling on the floor, the ceiling, even on her!

She quickly realized her dire situation. They pulled her hair and nibbled at her skin. She panicked and tried to get away, but couldn’t. They had chained her feet to the ground by linking their bodies together. It was the army she dreaded. They had found her!

She made the clicking sound of warning, but there was no point in this action. The ants even saw her open mouth as an opportunity and tried to get inside her throat! She quickly shut up and jerked her legs. The chain broke. She was free.

She rushed toward the exit stepping on a number of ants, killing some and shocking others. She reached the exit and pulled the rock, but it didn’t budge. Her heart fell. The ants came back with fervor. They emptied their poison on her body that burned and itched. She flailed helplessly, but couldn’t get them off.

Her legs were bound again and stung continuously by hundred of the little pests. More climbed up her legs and on her soft abdomen. She didn’t have armor covering her body, but she did have hair. Her sharp and dense coat protected her from poison bullets. Unfortunately, her abdomen was bare.

They had found her weakness. Angered at the pain she started stomping and rolling, taking a few ants down with every action. The ants, however, didn’t let her do as she pleased. They caught her hair and pulled back, binding her to the ground again. Their individual strength was laughable, but together they were strong!

Her hair protected against the bites, but the ants were many and they were bound to find a way in, an opening.

Among the hundreds of soldiers were four brave ants, all of different origin. One was red, another was green, one black, but their leader was silver and with red rings at the ends of his limbs and antennae. They were not part of the force nibbling the spider's health and senses, instead were waiting atop the rock sealing the exit. The jumped atop of her head the moment she stopped moving and went directly toward her eyes.

She understood their plan before they had even taken a full step forward. Unable to move, she rubbed her head against the wall. Her eyes were naked to the environment with no protection; losing them would have meant the end of her.

Half of the ants fell away to the ground, but the other half kept hold, their leader even pushed forward.

His mandibles glowed in a blue sheen, reflecting his daring set of seven eyes in her black oblong spheres, and he bit. A sharp snap was followed by violent twitches of the spider. Her eye ruptured and split open from end to end at his barest touch.

She went into shock as the pain drove her motor nerves crazy, slamming her into the walls of her burrow. Thanks to the swift orders of a red ant the soldiers managed to retreat in time, but there were still a few that died because they were far too invested in attacking her. This was the end of her as the slayer burrowed into her ruptured eye, opening the path for his troops to take her down.

She convulsed as the ant’s sprayed poison inside her eye, bit, torn, stung, and carved a path toward her optic nerve. Their leader pushed toward the dead end and snapped his glowing set of mandibles at the optic nerve, cutting into the hard flesh and breaking through.

The tarantula screamed. She didn’t die, but the agony she felt was leaps and bounds above anything she had ever gone through in her entire life. She had seen some really disturbing things in life, but this was torture!

She gave one final push to get away, but the blasted ants blocked her path till the end. She was trapped. Slowly they had whittled both her sanity and strength. She was unable to breathe; they had stung her one too many times. Tired she fell to the ground where the ants overtook her. They slipped over her hair, but slowly accumulated nonetheless.

She entered a shocked state from the poison that had accumulated inside her body, fell on her back, and grew rigid.

They bit her and stung her, burning her alive. She felt her anus unclenching and the ants upon finding a weakness pushed inside her body. Her slim brown hair protected her till the end, but once they entered inside her it was a done deal.

The final nail in the coffin was hammered when the silver ant, their leader, did something with his mandibles and widened the hole in her optic nerve, opening a direct passage to her brain.

The ants gorged her from the inside out and filled their wasted strength, while she died cursing their mother and their whole colony a death worse than the one they had given her.

The silver ant was the first to come out of the eye socket, not a single drop of fluid on him. His soldiers flared their mandibles to him and blew victory trumpets.

They had finally killed the savage spider. It had taken them a week of preparation, getting close to the spider, understanding her lifestyle to complete their mission.

The eight-legged goliath had been terrorizing the army for weeks, killing their members and taking over their territory. Silver fang and his group of 330 slaves was the army officer’s first choice. They had struck while the matter was hot and he couldn’t refuse. Refusing would have meant disbanding of his groups and return to slavery; there was none among them who wanted that end.

Silver watched his soldiers enjoying their meal. With this, they had fulfilled a week’s quota and earned immunity for the same period. At least for one week they wouldn’t be sent on to another giant hunt.

A soldier, black as the night and built as a rock joined him on the head. He was twice as large as the silver ringed ant of unknown origin, but he was as subdued as a bright flower in front of the blazing sun.

We did it! He said in subdued excitement, conflicted between celebrating and maintaining decorum in front of his leader. He had seen the army hunt the goliath’s monsters, but never in his life would he have believed that one could be taken down by only a few hundred soldiers —when a similar number usually listed the death toll. It was like jumping into a lake and hoping to be blown to the other side without getting wet.

His antennae rose to hear the response, but there was none.

Are you thinking about the ones who died, sir? He asked and was well responded.

Well, someone has to think about them, Black.

The five of them, the captains of his division and the oldest slaves alive had names, provided by the army, for their positions demanded one.

They were simple names, given in jest for believing they could be anything more than slaves, but they had delivered results and tradition demanded them respect.

Why do you worry, sir? There will always be more slaves to recruit from; there is never a shortage of good fodder.

That’s your problem. Silver turned toward him. You think everyone is disposable.

Well, I was once a true soldier of the army, sir. And as you know, everyone is disposable in the army —except the leaders of course.

Silver nodded and turned back toward the sight of his soldiers resting and feeding, replenishing their stores and energy.

Well, there might not be a chance to fill the number anymore. He scented.

Black’s legs stiffened at the words. He wasn’t smart, but even he understood what those words implied and where he was coming from. The army really didn’t like the amount and rate at which they were gaining popularity.

Silver’s words were shocking, but everything about him was an enigma as well. There were times when Black believed his captain could actually see them, but that would be heresy at best. Silver wasn't of the royal caste. Well, no one really knew what kind of a hybrid caste he was —his mandibles were too small for a soldier and body too big for a worker, and his olfactory control was better than even the royals.

LEADER! We did it! Another ant, green as the leaves both in color and experience, climbed over the head behind them. She was loud, wild, and brazen. We killed the giant! She proclaimed.

Black noticed her, leading him to sharply turn and pounce with mandibles wide open. She was Tiny compared to the two, only half their size, but was fast and nimble as a bee in flight.

She easily evaded his reckless tackle, tickled his bottom, and moved into the gap Black had left. Not worried about retaliation. She knew Black wouldn’t attack her from the back. Impressively, Black settled behind her; his mood soured. Fixed with the sharpest set of mandibles, she was named Green, but the soldiers called her Scissor because she snipped legs and antennae in a battle. And she loved her nickname —which was not a surprise.

We’ll talk later. Silver told Black but didn’t otherwise move. Are you ready to go back and inform the army of our success? He asked her.

Yes, Sir Fang, She said.

Green was playful in her use of the address, and by nature. She had a rather unique relationship with Black. See, Black was very short-tempered and ticklish at his bottom, and she loved agonizing him.

Green buzzed in excitement when Silver finally gave her attention. He touched her head to pass her a complex scent and a message: The giant has fallen and we are bringing it back.

SIR! Won’t that take a lot of time, too much time actually? Black argued, but silver had made up his mind.

That’s why we’ll be taking it back whole. He told Black and addressed Green next. Don’t forget to inform the scouts of our intentions. We don’t want them to panic and raise an alarm.

Is that a good idea? Black asked, scents betraying him; the soft citrusy rush spoke of his excitement. We have already picked quite a lot of infamy. Black said over the drone of Green’s energized looping chant: let’s do it. Well, she might be wet behind the antennae, but she was not stiff under the legs.

Silver finished rubbing the pheromones on Green's head and told her to leave. She rushed down the spider's face, remembered to make a stop by Red before she was out of the burrow, and disappeared into the wild. Black didn’t worry about her safety. A scent trail marked her destination. She simply needed to follow it, which he was hopeful she would do without getting distracted.

This is not a good idea. He told Silver, a soldier’s etiquette forgotten under the effect of hot-headedness, the reason he was tuned slave in the first place.

I know. Silver scented, a relaxing mixture of chemicals that soothed the mind of his captain. That’s why we are doing it. The higher-ups are already moving against us. We need to start preparing our defense.

The soldiers went into motion at the command. Red, their military planner, and adviser, wasn’t happy with the decision and talked about the unfeasibility of the plan. In the end, it was decided to separate the spider’s body into workable pieces. So they separated the limbs, head, and abdomen, and carried them out of the burrow piece by piece.

That day saw a sharp rise in their popularity, both in the eyes of the army soldiers and of their guests.