Sorry I haven't written anything in a long time. I was busy with another writing project and had little time. Unfortunately, I will not be able to post as consistently as I was with the last 44 chapters and the prologue, but I won't go away from writing as long as I did again (hopefully).

The Western Plains

The Painted Ones of the West danced around the fire, there nimble feet crushing the grass that was nearly as tall as them. King Corquaz, a large, fat rat danced and laughed, moving nimbly for one his size. Drummers beat a rapid tune, and the smell of roasting fish filled the air. These were the rats that never returned to the woods after being exiled, and adapted to the benefits of living in the plains. Small huts littered the area, and a great table was always covered with food.

Perhaps it was the smell of roasting fish that brought the starving, clumsy Painted Ones of the West to the village. They crawled on all fours, except for one. Arzemath was determined not to lose the Golden One, and in his determination and through his brains he adapted to walking through the plains. Straight-backed, he marched along with some that followed his lead, the they looked more like children pretending to be in the military, while Arzemath looked the real thing.

They marched toward the bonfire, where the Western Rats danced. Slowly they began to notice the newcomers and stopped, looking at them curiously.

After a silence, King Corquaz called (in the Painted Ones' tongue), "Ah, Travelers. And, look, they wear paints as us!"

Arzemath bowed his head. "We are the Painted Ones of the East, you see."

Corquaz chuckled. "What bring you here, then?" He looked at the stumbling rats. "I notice you're used to your woods, not quite fit for plains."

"We were chasing outlaws, you see. They stole something of great value."

The fat rat chuckled again. "The Golden One, seeing as you don't have it on you? You must remember, my good brother, Cormac, you stole it from me."

Arzemath coughed. "Cormac, my father is dead. I am Arzemath, his son."

The King looked surprised. "Arzemath? Little Arzemath? Last time I saw you you were an infant, unable to walk as yon Wood Rats. Though you seem to be doing fine now. My, you look like your father." Corquaz continued, "Well, I know the Golden One was important to you all right. But, frankly, you'll be glad you don't have it. I certainly am glad my brother took it. No sacrifices, food wastes... and no consequences!"

Anger flashed Arzemath's face. "Believe what you want uncle, we need the Golden One. And... food and supplies would help."

Corquaz laughed. "Yes, yes. You can have all this my nephew. We are in the land of the plenty, after all. Eat, dance! Join us. You seem in need of food."

Arzemath's rats took to these words with glee. They filled their faces with food and danced heartily. Meanwhile, Arzemath gnawed and a small portion of fish when Corquaz tapped his shoulder.

"Nephew... Could you follow me?"

Nodding, Arzemath left his food and followed the king into his wooden hut. There was little difference from the other huts, on the outside, it was the same size and made of the same materials. However, as they say, it was the inside that matters.

Inside was a feather bed, as there was in all the huts. However, Arzemath assumed only Corquaz had, as it was a luxury only allowed to the king with the Wood rats.

What surprised him more was that on a table was a glass tank filled with dirt, a few twigs, moss, small plants, and even a little pond. In fact, it looked like a mini-jungle.

"You wasted all this glass... on a tiny forest?"

Corquaz laughed. "Look closer."

The wood rat peeked into the terrarium and was surprised to see it was filled with small, black insects running around, carting a bit of fruit to a hole in the dirt.

"Ants?" asked the rat king, confused.

Corquaz chuckled. "Yes. Black Crazy Ants, to be specific."

"What... why?"

He shrugged. "One day I looked at a bunch of ants scurrying around in the dirt. They all worked together so well... quite interesting, really. I spent the next few seasons studying them, how their system worked. One day I caught a queen. And from her came this colony."

Arzemath was even more confused. "I don't understand."

Corquaz explained. "You see, I found all the ants are born from an ant queen, she lays their eggs. I caught her and eventually she raised a few workers, which I cared for, feeding them. I made this Terrarium based off their habitat, and observed, learning masses of information. They've truly helped my soldiers grow to the strength they are now."

Arzemath was completely bewildered. "What on Earth do you mean?"

"Watch," said the jolly king.

Sighing, the wood rat watched as the ants crawled across the terrarium. Hundreds came from small holes in the ground toward the strawberries lying near the small river, which had four fish swimming in it. The ants drunk from the fruit, or they ripped off small bits to cart to the nest. They all worked flawlessly in perfect harmony, Arzemath was mesmerized by the site. For the first time ever, he felt completely at peace.

Then he shook his head. Regaining his posture, he looked at Corquaz. "I don't see why you keep them."

Corquaz remained silent, until something caught Arzemath's eye. The wood rat saw that tunnels webbed the side of the glass, and crawling through them were thousands of ants, working tirelessly. They carried the food and fed it to other ants that had not left the nest, to brood filling chambers. There were even a few ants that were much larger than the rest, in the deepest parts of the soil.

Corquaz spoke what Arzemath thought. "Watch as they work together, helping everyone to ensure success. They are all treated equally. See the queens (this is a type of species that has multiple queens)? They rule the colony, but they don't treat their subjects unfairly. I have learned to rule the right way from them. Everything is shared, and everyone benefits.

"This is better than your way. You have all your soldiers pandering to you, you're unable to progress forward. Settle down, nephew, and treat your soldiers as equals, not in-subordinates. Stop holding grudges, and forget sacrificing your rats."

Arzemath gaped, watching the ants tend carefully to the fellow ants, how they helped each other to flourish. His shoulders relaxed, and just as he was about to nod his head, memories shot through his mind.

The look of disappointment on his father's face whenever he messed up. The joy the rats had when they worshiped the Golden One. How easy it was to have servants ready to do your every whim. If he said agreed with Corquaz, his parents would look from wherever he was with such disappointment. He could not agree.

"No, uncle. I rule my way. And I will get the Golden One."

Corquaz sighed. "Then... You are lost." He plopped onto his bed. "You may return to outside."

Arzemath nodded and left the hut, his eyes hard and determined.