When Sean fell the angle iron skewered his leg to the earth. The reed mat and iron bar became defunct. On that day there were no more flying ants to be seen. The anthill was once again dead.
It was exactly one week after the terrible accident and the cessation of the flying ants. In the middle of the afternoon the flying ants resumed their mass evacuation. The sheer force of it was unsettling as countless insects rose on misshapen wings into an early afternoon air that was too hot for flight. There was a pointless feel to their projectile as they hovered in uncertainty above the anthill before collapsing back onto the ground still bearing their ineffective wings. It was uncanny. It was as if the anthill’s latest ejected progeny were doomed – possibly rejected. Boniface said this was a very bad omen.
Boniface saw it. He had not been in a hurry to see it – perhaps that’s why he saw it. When it happened, he told Long One, Long One told me, and I immediately went to see it: I had to, otherwise I would never have believed it.