Throughout the hive every sister paused in her action as her senses returned to normal. Crouched in the receiving area between the Dance Hall and the landing board, Flora heard the loud rasping of her own breath. Something large, warm, and motionless was beneath her, gripped between her legs. The drone’s head was pressed into the wax and her abdomen was curved hard and tight against him, her sting buried deep between his bands. He did not move as she pulled her dagger out. She backed away in horror. It was not possible—yet blood soaked her fur black. All around her the comb showed dark wet swaths where bloody bodies had been dragged to the landing board. Other sisters rose to their feet, surrounded by shattered, torn, and decapitated drones. They stood panting and ashamed, not daring to meet each other’s eyes. A dense, unnatural silence emanated from the Dance Hall, reaching out to touch the bees and compel them to return. There a sickening spectacle met them. Amber and brown slicks of blood, yellow intestine spilling half-digested pollen and honey, segments of antennae, shattered eye-lenses, clawed and bitten plates of armor, and gore-clogged plumes littered the comb.
