I'll always follow my queen.

Atta ignored the way her heart leapt in her chest at those five words. She ignored the doubts that instantly rose, scrabbling at her collarbone with their sharp little fingers. Who are you to call yourself a queen? they sneered. You don't even have a crown.

A crown.

Atta cupped her hands over her mouth. "Molt!"

Molt paused his army crawl to look around in confusion at the sound of his name. He was about an inch away from where his brother sat curled into a fetal position, Thumper whimpering beside him.

Atta called his name again. His eyes widened when they landed on her. He seemed to have forgotten the ants were there at all.

She motioned wildly to her head. "Throw the crown!"

Molt squinted. "What?" he called back. Thumper swiveled his head toward Atta and spat out a snarl. A few minutes ago the sound would have frightened her, but after hearing the screech of the furry monster in front of him, it just seemed sort of pitiful.

Hop didn't even look up.

Atta pointed to Molt's head this time, then at the cat. "Throw the crown to distract it!" she yelled.

"No, Atta!"

Warm fingers clamped around her palm. Atta looked back to see the space between Flik's eyes crumple with worry. "You can't let him do that!" he cried. "What if you don't get it back?"

Atta gave her friend a sad smile and squeezed his hand back. "It's just a crown, Flik."

She turned back to Molt before he could respond. The grasshopper was staring at her in disbelief. One of his hands rested on the crown's center leaf, which had slid the right side of his head, as though he was waiting for her to give him permission. Atta could see the orange sap shimmering between his fingers.

"Do it!" she ordered, before she could change her mind.

Something in her voice seemed to convince Molt that she meant it. The cat's pupils doubled in size as the grasshopper hopped to his feet. He yanked the crown roughly over his antennae. Atta winced as she heard her mother's voice reminding her to handle the headpiece like it was made of glass.

"Hey, kitty!" Molt yelled. "Go fetch!"

A blur of green and orange sailed through the air, arcing high over the cat's head. Hop's little brother was stronger than he looked.

The reaction was instant. The cat sprang onto its hind legs, towering even higher above the bugs for a terrifying moment as it attempted to catch its new toy in mid-air. Then it twisted and came down on all fours again, pawing through the clover trees with its tail facing them.

Atta didn't even remember starting to fly. All she knew was that somehow she ended up next to Hop, tugging at one of the arms that was curled around his stomach.

"Come on, you scaredy-bug," she snapped into his quivering antenna. "We need to get out of here."

A moment later Flik joined her. He took hold of the elbow of Hopper's lower arm and pulled as hard as he could. Molt took the cue and began pushing against Hop's other side, grunting in exertion as his feet made grooves in the dirt beneath him.

Even Thumper seemed to realize they were all on the same side. His angry growls faded for a moment, then rose into sharp barks of panic.

Hop didn't budge. He rocked back and forth on his knees, still rapidly firing the word "no" under his breath. Atta didn't think he even knew she — or any of them — were there. He was trapped somewhere in his mind, fighting against a memory that scared him even more than the possibility of being eaten by a cat.

Atta sensed movement in the corner of her eye and felt her chest spasm. She didn't know how long of a distraction her crown would provide. She didn't want to find out.

Atta wasn't sure what compelled her to do what she did next. Desperation, probably. Or maybe it was compassion. Maybe it was seeing another insect do exactly what she did when she was afraid, when the world felt out of control and all she could do was spiral into herself like a pill bug and wait for the fear to pass. When the only thing that could make her feel better was the warmth of her mother's arms folding her into a hug.

Whatever it was, it sparked Atta's wings into motion and carried her until she was hovering in front of where Hop knelt. Then it took her hands and drew them forward, cupping her palms around either side of the grasshopper's face. His skin was coarse beneath her fingers.

This got his attention. He opened his eyes, his lips parted mid-no, and looked at her. Tears were pooled in the space where his scar cracked the skin beneath his right eye. Atta's heart wrenched at how young Hop looked. How helpless.

She cleared her throat, ignoring the feeling of six other pairs of eyes boring into her — especially Flik's — and focused on Hop's gaze. On making him believe the words she was trying to believe herself.

"We're going to see our moms again today," she said softly. Fiercely. "So that means you need to get up and move."

Hop stared at her for a beat, his brow furrowing. He saw her now. Atta dropped her hands from his cheeks like they'd burned her. Her own face smoldered.

A shadow fell over them. Atta's skin tingled as a sudden gust of air warmed her back.

Like a breath.

Her eyes darted to see Flik, Thumper, and Molt staring at something behind her, their mouths hanging open like three baby birds waiting for food from their mama. It was almost comical.

Except it wasn't, because the cat was back and they were about to die.

Suddenly a hand locked around her wrist. Atta was nearly yanked off her feet as Hop began to run. She stumbled to keep up with the grasshopper's long strides as he pulled her along behind him. Flik was still clinging to Hop's elbow, his legs kicking helplessly at the air whooshing past them, and Hop's other hands gripped Molt's antennae in one and Thumper's leash in the other. He was heading in the direction Flik and Atta had originally come from, deeper into the forest where the trees and grass grew closer together.

Atta's pounding heart skittered in disbelief.

Hop was saving them.