While preparations were being started for a much larger and well supplied caravan of explorers, complete with a portable "tent" built from papery mesh, we sent a drone to ask the bees about the surrounding lands. They know quite a bit as their flying nature and a desire for variety in their nectar has led to them exploring a wide area. Though it was difficult and slow for them to convey much about the outlying regions through gesticulations, we eventually gleaned some knowledge. We're getting better at communicating, too; a sort of pidgin language is developing.

They warned us that the grasslands eventually give dry up and give way to a bleak and sandy landscape out west. It seems to extend quite far, but as there are hardly any flowers to pollinate, the bees rarely venture in that direction. Perhaps there is something beyond the desert, but they've never tried to go out so far. They also warned us of the presence of dangerous predators, confirming our suspicions of what might have happened to that fateful scouting party that vanished in the northwest so long ago. They described one type of lizard that lurks still and hidden in plain sight with natural camouflage, and which likes to stalk the various flowers or edible plants. In light of these revelations, perhaps the expedition and colonization efforts should be focused elsewhere. There still is a reasonably large patch of land between our central hive and the swamp that is both habitable and seemingly rarely frequented by frogs.

But the bees told us of more than just the west. If we can ever manage to cross the river, they have claimed that the land there is lush and rich with a natural bounty of fruits and berries. However, there is a forest much denser than the woodland near our own home, and within those trees lurk all manner of other insects and creatures that would prove to be competition.

The queen that we spoke to surprisingly knew little of the lands south and the rest of the forest. It turns out that the various beehives are all independent from one another, and that we've only ever been in communication and good relations with one--that one nearest to the forest's edge. By longstanding agreement with the other bee colonies, our friends do not venture south or very deep into the forest, as those lands sustain the other colonies. Presumably they're rich enough, though, as the other two beehies seem to be getting along fine.

The beehive nearest to the beetles' former territory has been somewhat skittish near us, which probably doesn't come as much of a surprise seeing as they were a front-row witness to our invasion and conquest of the beetles. But after seeing our dealings with the other beehive, they don't seem to feel overly threatened or fearful, just a bit cautious. Perhaps we should investigate establishing relations with them as well.

The continued usage of the mutated spitting workers has led to their saliva gradually becoming an even more powerful adhesive agent. Our two hives have finally been completely coated and built with our biological concrete, but now they are being fortified with additional layers and built even taller. Some attempts were made at developing a breed of flying warriors, but the effort was in vain. Our warriors have evolved to be much larger and better armored than the rest of our species, and it's gotten to the point that any wings are just vestigial. They are too bulky to actually take flight, and perhaps we would achieve better success by starting with the princes or even the workers. But then we would face the issue of having flying insects suited perhaps for scouting, but without the stingers, strong forelegs, armor, or mandibles of the warriors that make them adept at combat. They would need to gradually develop those weapons again, or else adapt a new means of fighting.