There in the dirt, a war of the ants was raging. “Look at these champions.” Dienekes indicated the massed battalions of insects grappling with impossible valor atop a pile of their own fellows’ fallen forms, battling over the desiccated corpse of a beetle. “This one here, this would be Achilles. And there. That must be Hektor. Our bravery is nothing alongside these heroes’. See? They even drag their comrades’ bodies from the field, as we do.” His voice was dense with disgust and stinking with irony. “Do you think the gods look down on us as we do upon these insects? Do the immortals mourn our
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