Stinky Tactics

The trunk wasn't all that comfortable.  A wedge of uneven wood dug into my spine right on the bone, and my arms, curled round under my knees and tied at the wrists, pressed tightly into the rough sides.  If I could've seen, my cloud of breath would be a frigid white.

The cousins really hadn't been very nice, forcing me into here, but I didn't really blame them.  If I didn't show for the dinner, they would get the award--the award I'd stolen from them to begin with.

They didn't deserve it, but Master Yi only said, "The world isn't concerned with justice, only rewards.  Justice just makes a mess of things."

Case in point.

I scraped my nail against the wooden lid, hoping to attract a mouse or a roaming cat.  There had to be some biting creature in the vicinity... this was a pantry.  When scratching didn't bring anything near, I slowed my breathing as my exercises taught and sank into deeper senses, listening past my own heartbeat for the scurrying flutter of a smaller mammal's.

The cousins had done a bang-up job of clearing the area.  And the cats were a little too efficient, in my estimation.  They probably deserved their warm spots by the fire.  I sank even further, searching for the tiniest thread of life.  Silence surrounded me, and the stone of the foundation was so cold, so inanimate.

And then I heard it, a scratch many times more miniscule than the one I'd sounded.  I zeroed in on the creature.

It was a stinkbug.

I groaned.

But I'd freeze into sleep if I didn't get out of here soon.  And if I left my discovery up to human eyes, I'd suffer detention on top of frostbite.  As Master Yi said, "Pride is the grave's siren."  

Stinkbug it was.

I funneled my plea to the round-plated bug, inviting it to my dark and cozy home.  No one would disturb it here inside this protective shell.  It could hibernate in peace until spring and find plenty of food when it woke.

I shivered.  It crawled so slowly.  How far away was the thing?  By something big and cold and smooth... maybe a jar of pickles?  I encouraged it to use its wings.  This really was a nice place to hide.  The stinkbug flew to my trunk, crawled instinctively under the crack in the lid, and touched my knee.

The thing about encouragement is that it doesn't give you real control.  I doubted I could just encourage a bug to pick a lock.  I wasn't even positive the stinkbug would be big enough to do the trick, but since it was my only resource, I had to try.  Wise Master Yi said, "Don't use your tools, believe in them."

Whatever that meant.

Only one, intense purpose would fit inside the bug's tiny body, so I put all my thought into opening the lock.  I took a deep breath, and switched places.

Warmth beneath me.  A strange urge to crawl from home.  My claws dig into porous wood.  Out from the comfortable cave.  Down the side, onto hard metal without as many footholds.  A dark crevice, just the right size for my body.  Crawling inside.  Comfort.

An urge to crawl further in, to poke my legs into the tinier cracks.  Unable to budge the surface.  Forcing my way in, jamming my shell forward, shoving with all six legs.  A sudden, great movement creates a comfortable cave.  Tiredness.  Rest.  Sleep.

An earthquake jars me awake.  Great rumbling noises threaten my tight wedge, and make me creep from my place.  I climb out of the darkness into a sliver of light and hold still.

The light disappears and instinct encourages me to a safer home.  I know this home.  I slip into the crack in the wood and crawl deep inside the darkness.  I touch warmth.  Home.

Abruptly, I was hyperventilating inside the trunk.  That was just too close a call, I could have been a stinkbug forever if its instincts hadn't guided it right.  Maybe that's what Master Yi meant by "believe."  I blew out a breath of laughter, trying to calm down.  It'd done it, the bug had released the lock.  I kicked my legs upward with as much force as I could muster, and jarred the lid.

I heard a tiny whirr and paused.  Smiling, I offered the bug a fold in my clothing.  Then I kicked again, trying to release the latch.  A third and then a fourth kick, my spine killing me, and the lid flew open.  I laughed out loud, wanting to cry, and thrust my legs over the edge.  I cranked out a powerful sit-up, tied arms behind me, and tottered over to the doorway.

Those cousins were going to regret ever locking me in that trunk.  Stinkbug style.

___

Today's prompt was "Show someone fighting for their freedom."  I'm completely disgusted by stinkbugs, but they could have their uses, too, right?  How do you think the main character will use his stinkbug to gain revenge? :)