Chapter one

Lost and Found

She remembered it like it was yesterday, the agonizing images burned into her mind. Everything and everyone being destroyed all around her. Her loved ones dead at her feet, in the ruins that were once her hive. Flying for long hours every day for the last week to escape them, facing the blistering heat of the summer sun beating down on her, and the sheer exhaustion that followed. She couldn't go on forever, she knew. Her wings were begging for a break, now letting her slowly droop to the ground below. She knew she had to rest, or die.

She looked over her shoulder, awaiting the sound of the horrid buzzing, and the angry face of their leader. But today, fate was on her side, as they were nowhere in sight. Satisfied that the danger was only fantasized, she landed in the grass beneath some of the most beautiful flowers she'd ever laid eyes upon, and closed her eyes, letting that tranquility called sleep overtake her.

Meanwhile, Barry and the other Pollen Jocks flew on their usual rounds, pollenating flowers per the norm. He found a rather peculiar patch of flowers. They were all huddled together, like they were guarding something.

"Okay," said he, "I'll bite." When he approached, the flowers parted, as if they knew he wasn't there to harm whatever they were guarding. There he saw her. She was a bee that looked like she just outran a pack of bears, as she was breathing hard despite her unconscious state. She was skinny, but not in an unhealthy way.

Her wings were long, slender, and delicate looking. Her mouth and nose were just hovering over petite. Her straight, brown hair was long, down to her shoulders. There wasn't a single bit of excess fat on her body. She had a body that the Bee Greek Goddesses would be envious of.

"Wow," said Barry, blown away by her sheer beauty. He placed a hand on her neck. She had a rapidly beating pulse. He scooped her up in his arms,

"I found something you all should see," Barry said into his walkie talkie built into his helmet. Soon the other Pollen Jocks flew in.

"She's alive," said Barry, answering the question written on all their faces, "I'm taking her back to the hive." And so Barry returned to the hive, and was soon standing before the queen.

"What is it that you want?" she asked. She was very tall, very slender, and very beautiful. Though her beauty did not even compare to that of this bee, she didn't seem to mind.

"I found this bee," said Barry, "I wanted to take her to you." The queen looked her over, and gasped, "She's from a hive that belongs to a friend of mine. Follow me." The bee carried her after the queen, and the queen gestured at a series of grass blades that made a small bed. He laid her on it. The queen picked up a bowl with some sort of liquid in it, and dipped her fingers into it.

She rubbed her fingers on the face of the bee. With a gasp and a start, the bee snapped awake. She looked around. She wasn't in the grass anymore, with no flowers to protect her,

"It is okay, child." Said the queen. "This man found you, and brought you here. Why so panicked?" The bee looked like she just took a shot to the heart-emotionally-and burst into tears.

"There, now," said the queen soothingly, "it is okay. Whatever troubles you may have, they can't touch you here." She didn't know how wrong she was.

"My hive," she said, "was decimated. Everyone I know is dead, and I've been on the run from…him." It was the queen's turn to be shocked. Her friend from larva was dead? That was a bit much to take in. Still, she couldn't lose her head here. She had a weepy girl and a pollen jock in company.

"That is…Tragic," said the bee. "You may stay here." Barry spoke up,

"I offer to allow you in my house," said Barry, "it's not the best, but you won't be homeless." The bee took her hands from her face, and gave Barry a look,

"No one has been so kind to me in so long. I accept your offer."

"Barry," said the queen, "please take this girl to your home. I have things I must do."

"Yes, your highness," said Barry, and bowed. He then took the girl's hand and escorted her gently from the room.

When she was sure they were gone, the queen gently wept at the loss of her friend.

I know that Floralist isn't a word, but I could not find a word that meant controlling flowers, so I made the word up. So sue me, I wasn't the first, I won't be the last.