They moved slowly.
Not because they wanted to.
Because if they moved any faster, Buzz's breathing might stop.
Zza walked at the center of them, Buzz against her chest, his weight slumped into her silk like someone asleep in the middle of drowning. Her claws stayed locked around him, one under his thorax, one behind his head. She didn't notice her arms shaking. She didn't notice how many times she tripped. She didn't notice she was bleeding again.
She just kept whispering, over and over, like repetition could build a bridge:
"Stay with me. Hey. Buzz. Stay here. Stay."
His breathing didn't answer. Not steady. Not gone. Just *lost.*
The newborn Queen walked beside her, matching her pace so carefully it felt unnatural — wings tucked tight, mandibles shut, head bowed. She didn't take her eyes off Buzz once. The guilt sat inside her like a stone someone had swallowed and couldn't dig out no matter how hard they clawed.
