The scent of the hive began to change as dawn rose, but the comb was quiet and no one stirred as Flora returned to her dormitory. Her bunk was completely cooled of body warmth as she lay down and curled her abdomen in for sleep. The tip still throbbed, yet she felt oddly calm. All she wanted was to draw the last of that beautiful scent into her mind and feel that warm, tender shimmer of life against her body again. She had committed a crime, yet she felt no guilt, only love for her egg. Flora listened to her sisters’ sleep and the birdsong starting in the orchard, and waited for retribution.
