"That'll work," Remy observes, and charges the candle he's holding before chucking it against a wall. He kicks one and, steps on another, and turns around in the frame of the front door, one hand braced on the side, crackling color spreading through the structure from his palm. A soldier ant charges him and he kicks it, lets it gnaw on his shoe a bit, then pries it off one-handed and then hurls it back inside, even as he's already taking backwards steps.

Between that last combustive ant and the fire..

Well.

"Time to run, fille!"