Ants Were Biting

It was a mission to reach the little fire. The ignition didn't aid the healthy light expressed by the noon. There were laughter, the family present. The insects moved in the good old time, sliding through the tunnel into the burrow; the setting in a garden of green and dead leaves. The focus shifted. Running started and I was bit by the ants. All were bitten by the ants. No one reached the end.