The water place turned out to be a big lake. When I saw it, I flew at full speed. This was going to be so fun.

  In the clearing of the lake, I could smell a freshness, and I smelled new kinds of flowers, even some that smelled sour-sweet. Pink, green, and brown pollen drifted in the air.

  The lake sparkled beautifully, and the air felt humid and cooling in a nice way after hours of flight.

  So I could not really be blamed for not noticing the web string I flew into. It was not even a full web, just a lonely thread.

  I tried to fly away, and one of my wings got stuck.

  “Obey me, stupid string, and let me go!”

  Is this the definition of a damsel in distress?

  No, I was no one’s damsel.

  I bit the string and got my head stuck in it instead.

  I could not move at all now. Great.

  Something moved in my peripheral vision, and I heard a buzzing, then something fell. Then I smelled the worker, and she was beside me, working on the thread around my head. I heard something behind me and felt myself getting groomed, and I smelled that it was one of my caretakers.

  After a minute, the worker broke the thread around me and got me unstuck.

  Both my caretakers cleaned my wings while the worker and warrior put me down on a branch.

  My first dangerous encounter was kind of unsatisfactory. It felt totally undramatic.

  As my caretakers groomed me, the warrior danced over and over again, “Go first, protect, keep queen safe.”

  To be honest, I did not really listen to what she was going on about. Even though it had been over before I could feel fear, it could have gone really bad if it was not for my party.

  I decided I should find a good place to build my hive and expand my party.

  I focused back on my warrior, moved away from the grooming, and danced, “Warrior lead, to water, find place, build hive.”

  I smelled their understanding. The warrior danced a salute and led us off through a very winding way. It seemed she could smell the territories of different enemies and see nests to avoid.

  We flew through a bush and entered a clearing of flowers and shrubs, and even with the sun setting, it was still bright. The clearing was big, and I could see trees on the far side. It would take us hours to fly across. In the middle of the clearing, taking up two thirds of the space, was a pond of crystal-blue water with a little glow.

  It was breathtaking. The sweet smell of nectar filled the clearing, and thick clouds of pollen drifted in the air, almost like this clearing had no need for pollinators at all.

  This was it. This was where I would build my hive.

  We flew closer to the water, ignoring all the enticing and beautiful flowers for now. We can start exploring the nectar after we have chosen a place to build.

  As we got to the edge, I could see the reflection of everything, even the cutest and most adorable bee ever. I’m a really beautiful bee. I was fascinated by my reflection and studied it as I looked at the water. You can’t really blame a bee for being fascinated by seeing herself for the first time.

  The water I was looking at was not deep at the edge and had extremely clear water. It felt like it was clearer than it should be with such a deep blue.

  A bush far to the side rustled and broke my concentration, and my party moved into a protective circle around me.

  I personally felt like we should sting whatever dared to enter my clearing without my permission.

  What came through was the head of a buck. It peeked around a cluster of flowers it pushed through. It had big horns tangled in the bush, and beautiful flowers poked through. It looked like the stupid beast was going to rip them. It made me a little miffed that this creature was destroying my future garden, and now I was sure of it—we have to sting it. As it did not seem to see any danger, it walked into the clearing, and it was strange. As it walked through the bush, some flowers went with it.

  When it stepped fully out, I saw vines growing out from the buck’s body, with flowers blooming from them. That made the creature somewhat more tolerable to me.

  It walked quietly to the water. When it was still some distance away, a vine from its front hoof lifted and dipped into the pond. It started to smell the air but just stood there like that.

  I wondered what it was doing until it hit me that it was probably drinking, and I probably should use Inspect.

  It showed me nothing really and at the same time something. Last time this happened, I had not even gotten a race, and I knew they were bees. This time I could at least see it was some kind of deer.

  We stood there for a while and watched it. While it was not moving, I found myself wondering what the nectar from those flowers would taste like. It should not be too different, right? Some plants grow on other creatures. The clearing was quiet, and it was kind of impressive that it could drink from its vines.

  My anger toward the creature was gone, and I even felt positive toward it. If it’s a flower creature, then it can’t be all bad.

  Eventually, it looked up, drew its vine back, and went into the forest.

  When it disappeared into the trees, the spell broke, and my party wondered in unison how the flowers on the deer would taste.

  It had become late, so we left the water and looked around the trees for a place to set up our new hive. We needed a tree with branches that were not too low, no mites, and nothing that could weaken the tree.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I personally wanted a view of the water and the flowers nearby and some pollen to look at. I simply wanted to be surrounded by beauty, and at the same time we needed to be able to protect it.

  We started flying from tree to tree to find one to create our hive in. The tree needed enough foliage to hide us from predators above, and it could not have mites or insects that might make the hive sick. Some trees had bird nests or other insects that could spread sickness or rot. Some were good, but the hive would end up too low and open to ground predators or, even worse, have an abysmal view.

  We eventually found a tree with thick foliage and blooming flowers. Something inside me told me this was the perfect place to make a hive. It was the only tree around us with flowers, and that was great because flowers with nectar would help us make wax. I made the decision to start building the hive tomorrow.

  We stayed in a small hollow in the tree, and the warrior checked the area to make sure no wasps were around.

  I think our birth hive is in some kind of conflict with a wasp hive. Not only because of instinctual fear, but because my subjects reacted only to wasps. They did not care much about spiders or other creatures.

  I looked out at the lake as I waited for her. The view would have been perfect if not for the tree blocking half of it. Eventually, the warrior returned and reported that there were no wasps or hornets. I still did not know what a hornet was, but apparently they were as dangerous as wasps. I was tired after a day of moving and flying.

  The next day was nice and horrible at the same time. It was nice waking up in a cozy pile with my sisters, and nice seeing the rising sun’s first rays hitting the lake, but it was cold when they left to gather nectar. It was noisy, and I felt a clump in my stomach.

  Today it starts. The building of it. The start of my new chapter. The beginning of my epic tale. The first step on my journey.

  I was bored as one of my caretakers and the workers gathered nectar to create wax. It was just me and the warrior, and she stood guard without giving me any attention. That was so rude. I forgave her, even if she was quite rude.

  I lay down and rolled around. I started to feel that it was kind of fun.

  I just did not want to acknowledge it yet.

  I heard buzzing. Should I stop rolling and be more regal or keep rolling? I did not feel like choosing, so I stayed on my stomach. As the workers came in, the room filled with the scent of fresh nectar.

  They saluted me and landed beside me.

  I stood up because I felt something interesting was about to happen. My warrior was still outside keeping watch, and the other five scraped off pollen.

  I used my Sense actively, and what they scraped off glowed in different intensities. It became obvious the bee workers were made for this because they had more pollen and glowed more. But the one with the most was the worker.

  This was all good, but what we really needed was nectar to make wax and containers for honey. We only had crystallized honey, and I learned that only the worker could make it, and it took a long time to crystallize.

  So I asked without irritation, more with wonder, “Nectar?”

  The worker answered, “Sworling.”

  Sworling? What was that? Could I do it? Why swirl it?

  Instead of bombarding her with questions, I said casually, “Sworling, explain?”

  I felt a spike of joy over my cool demeanor and ignored my little happy dance.

  “Nectar inside. Circles. Sweat wax.”

  Sweet wax? That sounded kind of gross. Did we sweat honey too? How did we make honey?

  Had I been eating sweat-laced nectar? I did not know how I felt about that.

  “About honey?” I asked. There was no turning back from the truth now.

  “Honey swirled. Between stomachs. Spit out.”

  Hmm. That sounded somewhat better.

  “How work?”

  “Swirl between. Thicken. Honey spit out.”

  That did not help at all. I still did not understand. Thanks for nothing, I guess.

  I was going to ask what the difference between wax and honey was. It sounded the same to me.

  But the worker started moving her front arms as a viscous liquid came out. She shaped a disk as big as me before she ran out. She looked at the caretakers, and they started giving her their wax. The two other workers began covering the floor and walls with wax.

  The worker eventually finished her thing, and when she was done, it was a big glass of wax. But why wonder when I could get a confusing answer instead?

  “What is that?”

  She gave off a scent of pride. “Nectar container. Gather day. Built at night.”

  Then they all went out again, and I had nothing to do, so I started sorting the pollen they had gathered, one pile for each kind.

  The piles were not impressive at first, especially when I realized they did not just have different colors but also different shapes. Some were round, and some were round with tiny spikes.

  I puffed out my chest a little. I could totally figure this out. I was a future queen after all.

  I kept sorting, pushing each piece into its little heap, but the heaps still looked sad and tiny.

  Why was this so hard? I was royalty. Things were not supposed to be hard.

  One of the workers flew in for a moment, dropped a clump of pollen beside me like it was nothing, and buzzed out again without a single greeting or salute.

  Rude.

  But I added the clump to the right pile anyway. I was a benevolent queen.

  I was going to sort them with my Sense, but when I looked again, I realized some of them were not even glowing. If I sorted only by glow, the heaps would end up with one or nothing in them.

  That was even more irritating.

  Nothing should be out of my reach. I was royalty.

  Still, I kept sorting until the heaps finally grew a little bigger.

  Eventually, the workers came back, but they left again after dropping off the nectar. This repeated until night, when they started waxing the room. The worker even taught me how to do it after I ordered her. She said I should not, but I was bored, and this seemed fun.

  It turned out that sworling was when you put the nectar in an outer stomach, moved it in a circle, then into another stomach and circled it there until it thickened into something viscous. I did not know why it became like that, but it felt natural. If I wanted to make honey, I just kept moving it from one stomach to the other over and over again until it became honey.

  After four days of living in a hole—not really a suitable home for someone of my great station—there were not many of us, and we did not have enough honey and pollen or containers for it. All of us except the warrior could process nectar, but the workers gathered more and processed it faster. I realized that my immense leadership skills prevented me from being effective at making wax. For every one I made, the workers made ten honeycomb plates, and mine were wonky. But that was probably because I had to keep spirits up and give orders.

  So I kept sorting the gathered pollen, and the heaps became somewhat impressive. I sorted them by glow: the ones with the strongest glow to one side and the weakest to another. But it felt like I could almost see something else, something just out of my reach. It was irritating. Nothing should be out of my reach. I was royalty.

  We could not use the pollen yet, but we would need it ready when I laid eggs and had larvae. Instinctively, I knew that most larvae did not eat only royal jelly—maybe some—but mostly a combination of pollen and honey bread.

  After that, I worked at making bad wax containers that the worker fixed afterward and coating the floor with wax.

  Eventually, I heard it.

  My mind was flooded with information and memories, like with the Crawling skill.

  The memories showed different bees crafting and even creatures with hands—humans?—but unlike Crawling, I gained the steps of basic crafting.

  I opened my skills:

  Woop woop, who is the greatest? I am the greatest. The crafting queen of the water place.

  I should get a better name for this place. But still—four days and only one more skill and no level-ups? That felt slow. And I had not gotten any further on my quest.

  As we went to sleep, I hardened my resolve to level my skills and finish the quest.