Title: The Stink of Fear

Summary: Way pre-series, Zoe as a child. Wasps can smell fear.

Prompt: Wasps for Deviant Muses August Challenge

 

 

“Momma says you’re not ‘posed to be up there.”

 

Zoë looked down at her big brother from where she dangled above the cargo bay. “Wasp’s nest in the corner over there, just gonna knock it down.”

 

“I’m tellin’,” Jace said from where he stood, both feet firmly on the ground.

 

“Tattle tell,” Zoë called down at him. She was climbing between the rails and supports of the catwalk, making her way back to a corner.

 

“Am not!”

 

“Then you’ll keep your gorram mouth shut an’ not tell Momma I was climbin’ up here!” Zoë yelled.

 

“You’re not supposed to say that word!”

 

Zoë rolled her eyes and stretched her arm out. If she could just get a little closer she could knock the wasp’s nest down. They’d spent a month on Triumph and they were now dealing with all manner of critters that’d managed to stow away in that time. She curled her skinny legs tighter around the steel support for the catwalk, stretched just a little further and her fingers brushed the wasp’s nest. She wrinkled her nose when it didn’t budge from its spot anchored in the corner. She grabbed the support, shimmied along its length a little more and tried again. This time she got a solid swat at the nest with her whole hand.

 

Not only did her swat budge the nest from the corner it got the wasps’ attention. Jace started screaming the minute they started swarming. Zoë gritted her teeth, furrowed her brow and meticulously made her way down the support. Wasps stung her arms, her legs and one on her neck but she didn’t hurry or push herself. If she fell from this height, she’d break something. Even at the tender age of eight, she understood that a little pain was better than a lot of pain.

 

“Jace! Quit screamin’! You’re makin’ them worse an’ wasps can smell fear!” she yelled as she threw a leg over the rail, her bare feet landing on the catwalk. That was the moment Momma appeared.

 

“Zoë Gracelynn Allenye! What do you think you’re doing?” Momma didn’t shriek, she demanded attention, much like a drill sergeant.

 

Zoë swatted at a last lingering, brave wasp as she slipped down the catwalk toward the middle of the cargo bay where her mother stood. Welts were already forming on her arms, legs and neck.  “There was a wasp nest in the corner up near the catwalk there. I was getting it down ‘fore they stung someone. S’okay, Momma. Wasps can smell fear an’ I wasn’t afraid.”

 

“You never are.” Momma made a disapproving face and took hold of Zoë’s wrist, holding her arm out so she could see the length of it. “Looks like the only one who got stung was you.”

 

Zoë grimaced and rubbed at the bite on her neck. “Yess’um,” she mumbled.

 

“Don’t mumble. Just because we live out in the black doesn’t mean you can sound like a ruffian,” she scolded as she lead Zoë toward the infirmary.

 

“Yes Ma’am,” Zoë said in clear, distinct tones. She slipped up on the infirmary table and watched as her mother rummaged through drawers.

 

A shot, some antibiotic cream and a couple of band aids later, Zoë was released from her mother’s watchful eye with a swat on the rear.

 

“And if I catch you climbing on those supports and railings again, your Pa will tan your hide good,” Momma warned as Zoë scampered off.

 

“Yes Ma’am!” Zoë yelled over her shoulder. Next time she’d have to be more careful. She’d also make sure to stuff Jace in the closet first.