As narrated by Nurse Bee Petal

It was just after pollen brunch when the nursery went quiet.

Too quiet.

I buzzed through the rows of waxy cells, counting as I went.

“Larva 51A? Present.”
“Larva 52B? Present.”
“Larva 53C? … Hello?”

No response. No wriggle. No goo-glob.

Larva 53C was GONE.

The Buzz Begins

“Missing larva!” I cried.

Immediately, the hive snapped into action.

Scout Bees zipped in from flower fields. Ventilation Bees paused their fanning. Even the Queen tilted her head in royal concern.

“Find that larva!” she boomed.

And so, the Hive Hide-and-Seek began.

Suspect #1: The Tidy Drone

We checked with Dip, the unusually organized drone who liked lining up pollen crumbs.

“I haven’t touched a larva all day!” he huffed. “Too squishy for me.”

Fair point.

Still, we peeked behind his pollen stacks. Just wax lint and a half-eaten petal.

No larva.

Suspect #2: The Curious Caterpillar

Someone spotted a fuzzy caterpillar near the wax wall.

“Did you eat a larva?” I demanded.

He looked scandalized. “I’m vegetarian!”

We checked his leaf pouch. Nothing but chewed greens and a napkin made of silk.

Still no larva.

Then We Heard It…

A faint, squeaky giggle.

“Gloop?”

It came from the Honey Storage Chamber.

We zipped over.

There, stuck between two golden globs of honeycomb, was Larva 53C — grinning, sticky, and absolutely not sorry.

“Why Did You Wander?” I asked.

“I was playing Hide-and-Seek,” he gurgled. “But no one was seeking.”

The Queen’s Decree

Later that evening, the Queen made an announcement:

“From now on, all larva games must include both hiding and seeking. And Nurse Bee Petal gets a full pollen parfait for today’s heroism.”

I blushed. The larva jiggled happily.

Moral of the Story?

Never underestimate a larva with a squishy sense of adventure.

And always count twice after brunch.