The cloud of bees swirled and thickened into a pillar the size of a man, that bent its shapeless top this way and that as if to search for the person responsible. The song rose into a bellow of rage, a war-chant for an army of myriads.
The pillar of bees was circling now, like a beast closing in on its prey---but no beast went upright, none but man, the most dangerous of all. She fancied that it would soon put forth a head to see her with, arms with poisoned talons to grasp and kill. She took in a last deep breath, dropped the torch and trod it underfoot till it was out.