Ants. Large reddish-brown ones. At least two dozen, attacking the beetle from all angles, their mandibles seeking out and carving through any soft spot they could find. Already Leo could see they’d removed one of the giant’s back legs and were sawing through another. Two ants had latched on to the beetle’s underbelly and many more were swarming over the top. Their intent was clear. They meant to dismantle and then devour the bigger insect on the spot.

Leo was witnessing a murder in his own backyard.

“I’ve never seen ants do this,” Gareth said. “Have you?”

Leo shook his head. Part of him wanted to forget he saw it, go back to their game, hop in his hyperswing, and go dinosaur hunting, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Pound for pound the beetle should have been able to quash any one of its attackers, trapping it between its more formidable pincers, but the bigger bug was too slow, its assailants too many, its injuries already crippling it to the point that escape was impossible. The ants scurried and swarmed, finding all of the holes in the giant’s armored hull. The beetle took a lumbering step. Then another. One leg quivered. Its head thrashed back and forth.

“What do we do?”

“What do you mean, what do we do?” Gareth asked back.

“Shouldn’t we save it somehow? It’s going to die.”

“You want to save it?”

“Don’t you?” Leo asked. But the look on his brother’s face told Leo plenty. Gareth hadn’t even considered the idea.

“It’s nature, Leo. That’s just how it is. Survival of the fittest. Didn’t they teach you that in school?”

“Yeah, but you said yourself you’ve never seen ants act like this.” Leo remembered his science teacher saying something about how changes in the environment had actually caused some animal species to react differently, to go against their normal behaviors. Many were becoming more aggressive. Others had learned to live in new biomes or changed their diet to cope with a dwindling food supply. Maybe these ants were protecting their home, but to Leo’s eyes they looked like the invaders. They were hunters. The beetle was prey.

Prey that stumbled again, listing to one side like a boat tossed upon a wave. “It’s hurt,” Leo said.

“Dad would say to just let it go. We shouldn’t interfere.”

“And what would Mom say?”

Gareth didn’t answer. Just gave Leo a look.

Leo bent close. The beetle twitched, then lunged, one last attempt to get away, but another vicious bite caused its front legs to buckle.

Let it go. Maybe that is what their father would say, but Leo couldn’t. He bent even closer so that his nose was only an inch from the suffering insect, took a deep breath, and blew it out sharply, a sudden gust that caused most of the marauders to scatter, but not all. Some of the ants were still latched on tight, so with two fingers Leo pinched the beetle gently by its abdomen, lifting it from the battlefield like the hand of God. With his other hand Leo brushed the last few ants off, one of them scurrying across his finger before being shaken to the ground.