A Calculated Detour

I climbed down from the iron latch to the flat slate stone below. A thin column of black ants crossed the grey surface in strict, unbroken alignment. I paused. Four seconds of assessment. Extending both raptorial forelegs, I retrieved a stiff, two-inch pine twig from the gravel and laid it directly across their path. A deliberate barricade. The lead worker halted, antennae sweeping the bark, before pivoting sharply to the left. The others followed without collision, tracing a clean detour around the wood before rejoining the original line. Adaptive geometry. I folded my limbs, watching the revised route hold its shape.