Thief of Time - Shrink

The war was going badly for the weaker side. Their positioning was wrong, their tactics ragged, their strategy hopeless. The Red army advanced across the whole front, dismembering the scurrying remnant of the collapsing Black battalions.

There was room for only one anthill on this lawn...
Death found War down among the grass blades. He admired attention to detail. War was in full armour, too, but the human heads he normally had tied to his saddle had been replaced by ant heads, feelers and all.

DO THEY NOTICE YOU, DO YOU THINK? he said.

'I doubt it,' said War.

NEVERTHELESS, IF THEY DID, I'M SURE THEY WOULD APPRECIATE IT.

'Ha! Only decent theatre of war around these days,' said War. 'That's what I like about ants. The buggers don't learn, what?’

IT HAS BEEN RATHER PEACEFUL OF LATE, I AGREE, said Death.

'Peaceful?' said War. 'Ha! I may as well change m'name to "Police Action", or "Negotiated Settlement"! Remember the old days? Warriors used to froth at the mouth! Arms and legs bouncing in all directions! Great times, eh?' He leaned across and slapped Death on the back. 'I'll bag' em and you tag' em, what?'

This looked hopeful, Death thought.

TALKING OF THE OLD DAYS, he said carefully, I'M SURE YOU REMEMBER THE TRADITION OF RIDING OUT?

War gave him a puzzled look. 'Mind's a blank on that one, old boy.'

I SENT OUT THE CALL.

'Can't say it rings a bell...'

APOCALYPSE? said Death. END OF THE WORLD?

War continued to stare. 'Definitely knocking, old chap, but no one's home. And talking of home...' War looked around at the twitching remains of the recent slaughter. 'Spot of lunch?'

Around them the forest of grass grew shorter and smaller until it was, indeed, no more than grass, and became the lawn outside a house.

***

The Thief of Time - p228-229