Trench of Insects

Dust curls upward as the tiny soldiers advance, each steel-clad insect leaning forward beneath helmets dulled by soil and smoke. Their proboscises gleam like fixed bayonets, angled with grim intent toward the unseen horizon. The earth trench binds them close, a narrow gash in a world gone amber under heavy skies. At the lip, a weathered plank reads simply: *Where Vojta?*. No other markers stand—only that crude question, vibrating in the churned dirt with each distant thump. Beyond, a monstrous hose arcs overhead, its threaded mouth casting a metallic shadow that dwarfs the fragile rank below. Whatever battle they entered has long since unmoored from time, yet the absence persists like a current running under their wings. Vojta is not here, and still the searching does not end.