Colony in Danger: CH 12 | The Pill Bugs Use the Storm to Steal Food in Plain Sight | Reluctant Reader Audiobook Series

New to Colony in Danger? Start at CH 1: Here!

A Boys Adventure Audiobook for ages 8–14.

Colony in Danger is the chapter-by-chapter fire ant adventure podcast where Cinder Marlowe and his scout team race through a deadly meadow mystery...and the colony has only days of food left.

In this Adventure Podcast for Boys 8-14 chapter...the final chapter of Book 2...the four scouts cross out of Moss Wren's domain into burrower territory. They follow pill bug tracks through a poisonous flat. They survive a sudden storm under a dandelion leaf. And Cinder discovers what the pill bugs are really doing: not eating the colony's food, but stockpiling it, layer by layer, into mud-armored spheres. The biggest discovery is the one nobody wanted to find...the thieves' tunnel is laced with Moss Wren's silk.

Each chapter is a 25–30 minute serialized nature adventure with a clear cliffhanger. The biology is researched. The stakes are real.

Perfect for boys 8–14, reluctant readers, homeschool nature curriculum read-alouds, and anyone who loved Watership Down or Warriors and wants real entomology underneath the adventure. A Reluctant Reader Audiobook Series built for kids who finish the chapter and immediately ask for the next one.

For fans of Watership Down, Warriors, and Empires of the Undergrowth.

New chapters every Tuesday. Follow now.

Narrated by Reed Sterling.

I am the author of serialized fiction books for kids, teens, tweens and young adults, including:

- Brickhaven: A Bricks Fan Fiction Adventure

- Colony In Danger: A Fire Ant Adventure

- Eagle's Edge: A Story of Rome, Gaul and the Making of a Soldier

- Treasure Island: A Classic Adaptation

- Iron Rails & Ruin: A Novel of Steam, Sorcery and the Lawless Montana Territory

📚 All five books -- are now available on Amazon: https://us.amazon.com/stores/Reed-Sterling/author/B0H2ZM86WQ

📖 Wanna check out all five series for yourself?  Get all five Chapter 1s free: https://compass-codex.kit.com/middle-school-reader-group

Thank you for listening!  This is Reed Sterling.  Remember: Never stop exploring unknown worlds.

Transcript

— Episode opens (hook + show intro)

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Cinder watches pillbugs use a storm to move stolen food. His friends voted to go home, he voted to follow them. And the spider's silk is in the thieves' tunnel. This is Compass and Codex. Never stop exploring unknown worlds. Colony in Danger A Fire Ant Adventure. Chapter twelve The Meadows Edge Scene

— Chapter 12 begins: four scouts cross into burrower territory

SPEAKER_00 0:30

one They hit the far side of Moss Wren's domain at a dead run. The grass dropped off so fast Cinder nearly lost his footing. Behind him Silas skidded, then flung his arms wide to catch Blaze's shoulder. Thisle was first to recover. She scanned the horizon, head on a swivel, eyes already making a map of the new world. Every few steps she squatted and scratched a line into the nearest bark, marking the turn. North is left, she muttered. North is always left, even if the sun says otherwise. North is left. They weren't in grass anymore. The stems here were fat, bulbous, so pale they almost glowed. Everyone looked swollen with poison. The ground sloped and caved at random, knuckles of hard packed dirt erupted through the moss like a bad rash. Even Blaze went slow, picking his way between each unpredictable divot. What is this stuff? he said, poking a patch with the end of a twig. Barrower territory, Thistle replied, tapping the ground with her knuckles. I've read about it moles, or something worse. If we stay on the high points, maybe they won't smell us. Silas giggled, a sound so out of place it made Blaze whip around. Unless they're tracking us, Silas whispered. I heard once the burrowers can taste vibration three feet above their heads. Cinder ignored the bickering and checked his wrist. The silk bracelet glimmered in the slant light, cold and perfectly fitted to the joint. The more he tried to forget about it, the tighter it seemed to squeeze. He didn't need Thistle to remind him what it meant. Every time he flexed his hand he remembered Moss Wren's voice. A debt, a map, a promise, don't linger. The world changed again at the next ridge. The ground dropped off into a hollow. Dead centre stood a plant, no, a tree, but too thin and brittle to be any kind of real tree, its trunk knotted, barkless, branching at the top in four twisted prongs. Each prong was studded with slick, yellowed bulbs. The bulbs leaked a clear ooze that smelled sharp, like vinegar and rot. Thistle made a face. Solonacy, she said, the word like a curse. Don't touch the fruit. It's a trap. Last time a whole crew went missing in a field of these. She angled left, making a circuit around the base. Cinder followed, but stopped short when he heard a thump. Blaze stood at the trunk, staring up, transfixed. One of the bulbs had split open, and from inside a swarm of minuscule white bugs erupted, crawling over Blaze's hand and wrist. He yelped, batted them off, but a dozen stayed, digging in. Don't crush them, Thisle barked. If you do, they squirt acid, just brush here. She ran over, and together they used a strip of moss to scrape the invaders off, careful not to break the fragile bodies. The process took three full minutes. By the end Blaze was shaking, and even Silas looked sick. Cinder watched the mess, then turned to the horizon. The tree's shadow pointed toward a distant rise. Beyond that, he guessed, was the meadow's true edge. He pointed. We make for that ridge. Run if you hear anything underground, don't stop for anything. They went single file, Cinder up front, Thistle behind with the map, then Silas and Blaze guarding the rear. Thisle kept up her litany. North is left. One, two, mark, three, four, test. She pressed a nail into the dirt every ten steps, leaving a pattern that only she understood. The terrain got worse the closer they came to the ridge. The holes multiplied, each one rimmed with a slick of dark, soupy mud. Once Silas lost his footing and slid a good five feet before grabbing the exposed root of some freak plant. Cinder doubled back, locked hands, and pulled Silas up. For a second their faces were only inches apart. You good? Cinder asked. Silas's voice was shredded. I thought. I thought it was gonna eat

— They reach the meadow's edge — open ground, no cover, full sun

SPEAKER_00 5:00

me. Not today, Cinder said, and meant it. They reached the rise by midday. Here the meadow vanished all at once like the earth itself had been clipped short. Before them stretched a vast open flat. There was no cover, no grass, no hiding from anything with eyes. The sun hammered down, bleaching everything to pale yellow and bone white. Cinder felt his heart drop. This was the worst kind of trap, open ground, no shadows, and a clear line of sight for any predator from a hundred yards away. He looked at Thistle. She was already biting her knuckle, calculating. If we cross, we do it fast, she said. Straight line, no stops. Blaze snorted. If we cross, we're meet. Silas didn't say a word. He just knelt at the lip of the ridge and traced his finger over the dust. Cinder watched. There in the dirt were tracks. Not random scuffs, but a tight cluster of parallel lines deep and perfectly spaced. Here, Silas said, his voice trembling. You see it? Pill bug tracks, fresh ones. Thistle was on him in an instant. Her map forgotten. You sure? Silas nodded, then brushed the top layer of dust to reveal the next print. Look at the ridges. The pressure here. Heavier than average. That's a full grown. Maybe two. Blaze leaned in, skeptical, then blinked. Yeah. And these cross right over. He pointed at a new set of marks, thicker, with a drag in the middle. Someone's carrying something heavy. Cinder didn't need to guess. Stolen food, he said. They're running supplies right through here, no cover, so nothing dares attack them. Thistle measured with her hands, lips moving in the rhythm of her calculations. If we move now, we might catch up, or at least see where the trail goes. But if we wait, Cinder finished for her. We lose them. Blaze cracked his knuckles a nervous tell. We should talk strategy, he said. We go in as a block or split and recon. Cinder shook his head. Too risky. Stick together. If something hits us, better we're all in the fight. Thisle traced the tracks, head low. We're close, Cyn. Really close. If we follow these we get proof. Maybe even find the cash. Silas glanced at his own wrist, the silk bracelet bright in the glare. And the spider. If we die out here, Moss Wren wins, right? Blaze shot him a look. Not helping, Silas. Cinder didn't answer. He flexed his own wrist, felt the silk dig in, and made a silent promise. No one would catch them alone out here. Not the spider, not the pill bugs, not even the queen herself. They left the ridge, following the tracks. The sun boiled down, flattening every shadow. The only sound was the crunch of dry dirt under their feet, and the faint, relentless voice of thisle. North is left, north is always left. Every fifty yards Silas checked the path. The tracks never wavered. If anything, more prints

— Pill bugs in formation, rolling stolen food toward a tunnel

SPEAKER_00 8:30

joined, smaller at first, than matching the main group like an army gathering strength. After a half hour the trail narrowed between two mounds of dirt. The air changed, wet, sour, undercut with the hint of decay. Blaze sniffed. We're close. They crept to the crest. On the other side was a pit wide as a swimming pool. The floor was packed earth, scored with a spiral channel. In the center a group of pill bugs worked in formation, rolling a massive chunk of food toward the mouth of a tunnel. Cinder counted six, maybe more, each twice as thick as his own arm. The lead pill bug wore a shell with a jagged scar running the length of its back. It moved slow, precise, never breaking formation. Silas grinned, all fear forgotten. Told you, pill bugs. Thisle drew a quick map of the pit, then turned to Cinder. We go back or we get closer. Cinder looked at the others. For once he let the vote decide. Blaze, he said. We get proof, Blaze answered, voice hard. Silas? Silas beamed. All the way. Thisle just nodded, map already in hand. Cinder felt the silk band throb on his wrist as if Moss Wren was tugging the thread himself. He grinned, teeth bared, and pointed down the slope. Let's finish this. Together they slid into the pit, low and fast, every move a dare to the predators watching from the high blank sun. This was how heroes did it, Cinder thought, or how idiots

— A storm breaks. They dive under a dandelion leaf

SPEAKER_00 10:15

died trying. Either way, it was better than waiting. Scene two They made it five feet down the slope before the storm hit. It started as a single fat drop that nailed Blaze in the back of the head, flattening his hair and setting his teeth on edge. Weather's turning, he warned. But nobody looked up, except Silas, who peered skyward, squinting into the pale, washed out sun. A second drop hammered Thistle's map, smearing her ink and soaking through the page. Then the clouds boiled in fast and low, and everything went from sun blasted to black in a heartbeat. The next drops fell harder, each one hit with a sound like a pebble landing on tin. Cinder caught the first on his arm, shivered at the sting, the next drop landed square on his face, and he tasted grit and ozone. Shelter he barked, but the word came out sputtering as water got into his mouth. Blaze saw the dandelion first. The leaf spanned three feet overhead, wider than any roof at home. He grabbed Silas by the wrist, yanked him up the incline, and pointed. There. Thistle was already on it, racing for the underside of the leaf, both hands over her head to protect the ruined map. Cinder followed, the rain now coming in sheets, flattening grass and turning the ground to slop. The four of them dived under at the same moment. For half a second it was calm. Then the rain pounded the leaf with a force that bowed it toward the earth, flexing the midrib so far it nearly snapped. A drop the size of Cinder's fist punched through a tear and splattered all four with icy water. Silas shrieked, Blaze pushed the others farther in until the leaf's thickest part shielded them, but even there it was no good. Water pooled at the edges, forming a heavy rim that threatened to break at any moment. The ground under their feet became a river, sluicing mud into their hiding spot. Blaze didn't wait for a cue. He grabbed a chunk of tough grass, wove it into a rope, and lashed the bottom of the leaf to the ground. Then he stripped out the ribs from an old dead stem, wedged them at an angle, and made a wall to deflect the worst of the flow. Channel the water away, Blaze said, not waiting for help. He used his hands to dig a trough, guiding the mudslide away from their feet. Thisle picked up instantly, pulling stones and clumps of moss into a barricade on the far side. Silas, shivering, tried to dam the inflow at the entry point, his hands barely visible in the deluge. Cinder didn't move. He was too busy watching the field, watching the pill bugs below as they scrambled for their own shelter. The lead bug dove into a tunnel, but three others lagged behind, pushing their food chunk with desperate focus. The water slowed them, then half buried the chunk in a pool at the pit centre. Two pill bugs left it behind, abandoning the prize to the flood. The last one stayed, clawing at the edge, and was nearly swept away before it let go and vanished after the others. Cinder grinned. They panic like we do, he said. Yeah, but they're built for it, Blaze answered. We're not. The water kept rising. Within a minute the mud came up over Silas's ankles. He yanked his feet out, fell and scrambled upright arms covered in ooze. We're gonna drown, Silas moaned. It's a trap. We're stuck. Thistle eyed the barricade. It'll hold. If Blaze gets the channel deeper, the rest should go around. Just don't move unless you have to. Cinder watched the dandelion leaf, saw the heavy drops bowing it further with each impact. He figured they had ten minutes, tops, before it either collapsed or the water found a new route. Stay alert, he said. If the leaf breaks, we run uphill, better soaked than buried. The time passed in pulses, the hammer of water, the constant shifting and bracing of Blaze's hands as he reinforced the wall, thistle shoring up the weak points, Silas a bundle of nerves. The only thing holding Cinder together was the silk bracelet, which now itched and burned against his skin, cold and soaking wet. He flexed his wrist, stared at the thread, and wondered if Moss Wren was laughing somewhere, waiting for them to drown and saving himself the trouble of collecting his debt. Blaze took a break, breathing hard. It's working, he said, pride sneaking in. Water's draining. Silas pointed at the exit eyes wide. So are the pill

— The pill bugs used the flood to escape — they planned this

SPEAKER_00 15:15

bugs, see? They all looked. The lead pill bug had returned, this time with two others moving as a perfect unit. Instead of pushing the food chunk, they now rolled it, using their own bodies to wedge it free and ride the current. The chunk shot forward, and the bugs vanished after it, gone in a blink. That's how they did it, Thistle said. They use the weather. They planned this. How do you know? Cinder asked. She rolled her eyes. Because the tunnel openings are all angled up, not flat. They collect the runoff, then use the mud to close the holes when they leave. Cinder took a long look at the field, the pillbug tunnel, and the flooded pit. Smart, we're dealing with prose. A new silence fell under the leaf, the kind that meant everyone was thinking the same thing. Silas broke first. We have proof now. We saw them, we know how they do it. Let's just go back. Cinder shook his head. Not enough. We need to see where they're taking it. Maybe get a chunk of food, bring it back. Thisle held up her ruined

— Outvoted three to one. Cinder agrees to go home

SPEAKER_00 16:30

map. Odds of all four of us making it across that field are less than forty percent. After the storm, maybe even worse, we go home, warn the colony, prep a defense. That's the smart move. Blaze looked torn. He started to speak, stopped, then shrugged. We got a lot already, Sin. I say we go back. Cinder felt the heat rise up his neck, a different kind of flood. If we turn around, the Queen wins. She gets to lock us up, call us failures, and nothing changes. Silas's antennae quivered. If we stay out here we die. Maybe Moss Wren comes after us. Maybe the next storm's worse. We've done enough. Please Thistle nodded, voice steady. The colony survives if we make it back. If we keep going we risk everyone. I ran the math. This is the only way we win. Blaze glanced at Cinder, apology in his eyes. Majority rules, Sin. Cinder looked at the three of them, mud caked and exhausted, every one of them wearing the silk mark of Moss Wren on their wrist. For a second the world shrank to the inside of his skull. He wanted to punch Blaze, or tear up Thistle's map, or rip the bracelet off his arm and scream at the sky. Instead, he bawled his fists and stared at the pooling water, letting the cold and the anger numb him. Fine, he said, barely audible over the rain. We do it your way. The rain slowed. The worst of the flood drained off, leaving the dandelion leaf battered but standing. Nobody spoke for a long time. They waited silent as the last drops hit the leaf, and the storm finally let them breathe. Cinder sat at the very edge of their shelter, shoulders hunched, watching the field and thinking about the promise he'd made to Silka and to himself. Even outvoted, even alone, he was still a scout. And scouts never quit, not even when the world tried to drown them. Scene three.

— Cinder slips out alone — and cracks open a mud sphere

SPEAKER_00 18:45

Cinder waited for the storm to quit. When it didn't, he pushed out anyway. The others slept or pretended to, curled in a knot under the dandelion, safe in the stink of each other's breath and Blaze's low snore. He couldn't sleep, not with the argument replaying on loop, Thistle's cold math and Silas's voice shaking but resolved, even the way Blaise said majority rules like he'd never hated a phrase more. Cinder flexed his wrist, let the silk bracelet slice into his thoughts. He pictured Moss Wren, eight eyes unblinking, watching from somewhere just past the storm line. He slipped from the shelter, picking his way through the mud. His feet squelched, but the rain masked the sound. At the top of the ridge he crouched. The field was still a river, pools and runnels everywhere, all lit up by the raw silver glow of dusk behind the clouds. He scanned the ground for the pill bug trail, the spiral trench that had survived the flood. It was still there, deeper now, nearly a moat winding toward the farthest hole at the field center. He followed it with his eyes. Movement caught him, a pill bug moving with weird precision. Not rolling but pushing a ball, no, a sphere of compacted mud. The sphere pulsed as it rolled, like something alive in its core. Another pill bug followed, then a third, each spaced at perfect intervals. Cinder watched, breath caught. The pill bugs didn't speak, didn't slow. They moved in a line, each pushing a sphere, each sphere identical. As the lead bug reached the edge of a flooded channel, it flicked the ball with its back legs, sending it over the water and onto higher ground. It never paused, never checked behind. In less than a minute, six spheres were stacked at the tunnel mouth. The pill bugs vanished inside, but the spheres stayed, a neat, muddy pyramid at the entrance. Cinder shimmied closer, using a blade of dead grass for cover. When he reached the edge, he dropped low and waited, counting to twenty. Nothing happened. He lunged, snatched the nearest sphere, and rolled behind a mound. It was heavy, slick with rain. He dug at it with his nails. The mud peeled away, layer by layer. Inside seeds, not just one or two, but dozens, grains, bits of fungus, even a piece of red veined leaf. Each layer of mud was a different color, a different taste. It was a food bomb. He scraped another. Same thing, but this time the core was a chunk of dried fungus, big enough to choke a nurse ant. He recognized it. Queen's reserve, the highest value ration. If pillbugs had this much, the colony's losses were worse than even Silas had guessed. Cinder's brain clicked into overdrive. They weren't just stealing food, they were stockpiling it. Building stores for something big, maybe a siege, maybe a troll. Trade, maybe just to starve everyone else out. He needed Thistle to check the pattern, needed Blaze to muscle through the water and haul samples. Even Silas with his knack for hiding would be useful. They'd been wrong to think the mission was over. It was only starting. He palmed two of the spheres, tucked them into his pouch, and bolted back to the shelter, running flat out. Blaze jerked awake first, ready to fight. Cinder tossed a mud sphere at his feet. The heavy thud silenced Thistle's snoring and snapped Silas to sitting. Food, Cinder said. Pillbugs are packing it by the tunnel load. You want proof? This is it. Thistle blinked, then picked apart the mud ball. Her eyes went wide. It's not just our stores, she said. That's honeycomb. From the wasp den, and this she scraped another piece, white as salt. Lava casing. They're hitting every colony. Blaze's mouth hung open. But why stack it here? Why not eat it? Cinder shrugged. I

— Inside the sphere: Queen's Reserve, wasp honeycomb, larva casing

SPEAKER_00 24:06

think they're building a stash. For what I don't know, but it's enough to feed a hundred bugs for a week. Silas rolled the ball between his hands, awe replacing fear. That's insane, he said. If they keep this up, nothing survives winter except them. For a second the silence under the leaf was total. Then Thistle drew herself up, wiped the mud on her leg, and gave Cinder a look like he'd just solved her favourite puzzle. We can't go home now, she said. We have to see what's in that tunnel. Cinder grinned, sudden and wild. That's more like it. Blaze cracked his knuckles. Tonight, less guards. They'll be asleep, or whatever pillbugs do when they're not plotting. Thistle remapped the approach on a scrap of leaf. We circle wide, use the old mole channels to get close, then go in. I'll count the tunnels. Silas, you stay topside, watch for sentries. Blaze, you back me up. Cinder slipped the silk bracelet higher up his arm. We go as a unit, no heroes, no lagging. Silas grumbled, but nodded. The rain had dwindled to a mist. The field glimmered under the clouded moon, every puddle a trap, and every mound a potential sentry post. Cinder led them out, hugging the ridgeline, staying low. The water sucked at their feet, but nobody slipped. Even Silas moved with a confidence Cinder had never seen. At the pit's edge they paused. The air smelled like mud and fresh leaves undercut with the sharp tang of resin. Blaze pointed, three pill bugs at the tunnel entrance, unmoving. Thisle's eyes narrowed. Asleep. They sleep in shifts, but only two hours at a time. We have that window. They darted for the far side, then doubled back to approach from the shadow of the collapsed solonasi trunk. The pillbugs didn't budge. Silas split off, posting himself at the old mole hole, antennae twitching for danger. Cinder and Blaze crept to the tunnel. Thisle pressed close behind, her hands already sketching the outline of every curve, every angle. Inside the tunnel was pure engineering. The walls gleamed, reinforced with chewed bark, the floor packed to a hard, smooth ramp. The mud balls rolled perfectly down the centre, no friction. Cinder had never seen anything like it, not even in the Queen's grand chamber. They followed the tunnel's curve. Ten paces in it split, a new chamber, ringed with more spheres, stacked six high. The chamber stank of fungus and old air, but the precision was hypnotic. Cinder ran his hand along the wall, felt the slight indentations at regular intervals, marks of planning, not chance. They heard a scuffle behind them. Blaze dropped into a crouch, but it was only Thistle grinning. Look, she said, pointing overhead. Silk. Not just

— Moss Ren's silk laces the tunnel ceiling — he's been in on it

SPEAKER_00 27:20

any silk, but the same kind Moss Wren had used. The tunnel ceiling was laced with a mesh of it, forming a secondary barrier. Cinder realized all at once that Moss Wren must have been in on this, or at least had a hand in it. Maybe that was why he'd let them through, why he'd marked them with silk in the first place. The web was everywhere. Connecting the pillbug tunnels, the spider's domain, the whole wild. He felt the weight of the bracelet again, the unspoken debt. Let's go, he whispered. Get the evidence and get out. Blaze filled his pack with three mud balls. Thistle marked the tunnel pattern, then slipped out, silent as a thought. They regrouped at the molehole. Silas was waiting, all nerves and energy. They made it back to the shelter as the first hint of light seeped through the clouds. The field was changed, scarred with tracks, pools drained, debris everywhere. Cinder set the mud balls down, a statement of victory and warning both. He looked at the others, saw the resolve in Thistle's jaw, the wild spark in Blaze's eye, the hard earned steadiness in Silas. Ready? he said. Nobody needed to answer. They each gripped the silk bracelet, then punched it up their arm in unison, a signal and a shield. The four of them stood at the edge of the battered field, the storm clouds behind them, the wild unknown ahead. For a moment even the wind seemed to wait. Cinder smiled. They weren't just scouts now. They were the only hope left,

— Up next on Colony in Danger CH 13

SPEAKER_00 29:06

and tonight they'd take the fight to the thieves. Thanks for listening to Colony in Danger. New chapters drop every Tuesday, and the Fire Ant Kingdom, Book I of Colony in Danger, is available on Amazon now. If you liked Colony in Danger, listen to Treasure Island on Wednesdays. A twelve year old cabin boy finds Captain Flint's treasure map, and the crafty one legged sailor is about to set sail with Jim. Can he find the gold before the pirates do? Back to Colony in Danger. Now, Cinder has discovered Moss Wren was helping the pillbugs all along. What would you have done alone in that storm? Next week. In chapter thirteen, a shrew grabs Silas in its jaws, and Cinder has one chance to save him. This is Reed Sterling for Compass and Codex Never Stop Exploring Unknown Worlds.