Myramex, blushed in the beautiful translucent amber of youth, followed in the footsteps of her sisters, keeping close, drinking in their smell that escaped their pygidia and washed against their carapaces. There was food and her sisters were excited. They marched dutifully forward. Myramex glanced up at the sun, fading now and then behind the clouds, and she determined that their path was gently curved. Something's wrong, she thought, but not in words.
They marched and the temperature dropped. The sun fell completely into the ground. Moisture collected on the blades of grass that rose up around them. Something's wrong, thought Myramex. They kept marching, even though their feet began to abrade against the sandy soil. The sun came up again.
The food doesn't exist.
Myramex stopped. The sister behind her stopped. The sister behind that sister stopped, and so on. Myramex twitched her antenna. She looked at the sun with the polarized eyespots on the top of her head. The sisters behind began to twitch, then they started to walk around Myramex.
She watched. They continued on, hungry and excited. Myramex looked around and saw a stone she had passed the previous day. She felt her gut squeeze.
We've been here before.
She clacked her mandibles several times. The sisters that passed her barely glanced her way. She pushed her head into the column, but the sisters just lengthened their detour around her. Myramex began to panic. She ran back and forth across the column's path. The sisters began to bunch up, twitching their antennae. She started to run further away, then back again, then further still. One of the sisters followed her, reinforcing the path, back and forth.
Myramex strayed further, back towards the colony home. Another sister joined in, then another. The scent of the new path grew stronger, and the circular path was broken. Myramex led her sisters all the way back to the colony home.
I recommend googling "ant mill". This apparently, is an actual thing.