(A short story with a twist, from Showtime! Random House NZ)

Imagine having to dance in front of an audience when you’ve never danced before in your entire life. Sound pretty bad? Because it gets worse. There are hundreds in the audience watching your every step – and if you make a mistake, they will be very annoyed.  I had to do just such a dance. Here’s how it happened.

It was my first day on the job as a Scout and I was determined to prove myself by going somewhere  exciting – the forest. My Sisters didn’t often go there. The forest was wild and everyone said there were predators there – hairy spiders and savage birds. I gathered my courage and dodged in among the trees.
I’d just crossed a stream and was heading into the setting sun. It must have blinded me  because I went smacking into a curtain of water. A waterfall. I spluttered and then I saw it – towering above was the most massive tree I’d ever seen. It was dripping in white star flowers and the smell was amazing. I couldn’t wait to tell my Sisters , so I headed home, taking a note of landmarks on the way.

It was just on dark when I got home and one of the Guards at the front door gave me quite a telling-off. She went on and on about getting lost after sundown and the danger of wasp attacks.  I tried to explain to her what I’d found, but she told me to save it for the morning meeting.
Problem was, I didn’t want to make a mess of this in front of my Sisters. I’d never danced before, and I had always been the clumsy one. They’d even nicknamed me ‘Stumble-Bum’. I was always bashing into tree branches, or tripping over the Builder’s feet. But I thought about the delicious scent of that tree and knew that I had to try.
That night I hardly slept, going over the exact steps in my head. You see, this was a special dance. It had to tell the story of a journey – my journey to the white tree. It would have to show the landmarks, the direction I’d taken, how far away it was, and warn of any hazards on the way.
Morning came and I headed for the dance floor. The Harvesters were waiting, tongues hanging out. They’d be watching every tiny movement in my dance – it would tell them where to go to get food for the day.
I made sure I was first up on the floor. I didn’t want to wait for my nerves to get in a knot. Then I started the dance with all the energy I could find inside myself. My feet drummed softly first then louder and louder. I moved my body in figure of eight turns, sometimes even weaving in and out of the audience. Then I waggled my backside and that got a laugh. My dance showed them the rock wall, the river, the sudden waterfall and finally the huge tree.
I overheard someone say that I was dancing so hard I might melt the wax on the dance floor! But I didn’t make a single mistake. At the end of the dance, I raised my front legs and buzzed my wings. The audience cheered and gathered around, touching my face with their antennae, absorbing the smell of the white flowers.
After that, the Harvester bees flew off to find the tree. When they returned that evening, everyone agreed it was the sweetest nectar in the whole forest. We feasted the all that long, long winter on the honey that the Chef’s made from those fabulous white flowers.
And I have a new nickname, but I don’t mind anymore.
I’m now called Sweet-Feet.

Thank you to Philip Webb for his great bee cartoon.