"But I thought you were just a nice, tasty beetle."

"We've had this discussion before, Peck. I am a beetle. All lightning bugs are beetles. Beetles of the family Lampyridae."

Peck drummed the littered earth with his murderous spiny forelegs. "You're awfully soft-bodied for a beetle."

"I don't need any armor, because I've got toxins," Vinnie snapped. "I'm also built light ‘cause I fly! You want to eat something soft? Kill a snail!"

"I don't like snails," Peck muttered. "Snails got no legs and they eat with their tongues. Plus they got big hard shells!"

Vinnie sighed gustily through his spiracles. Why were spiders so mulish and picky? Snails were delicious. Vinnie himself had eaten snails, back when he was a grub.

When he had been a kid, all he had wanted to do was burrow, eat, and grow. No adult airborne displays. No burdensome public reputation as an artist. Yet he'd been so happy and excited, innocently writhing in the loamy dark. Kids were like that.

Vinnie leaned against a tall dandelion stem and unhinged his striped wing-covers. His left midleg was screwed up, but he was itching to get aloft and shine. "Peck, I forgive you. You're a dumb, meat-eating spider, but at least you don't use webs. Those are just plain irresponsible, webs."

"I could chew your broken leg off," Peck mused. "Your legs aren't poisonous."

Vinnie wriggled his damaged joint cautiously. "How'd things work out with that lady friend I recommended?"

"Oh! She was so pretty!"

"How come you're still alive, then?"

"I tried my best to get close to her," Peck said gloomily. "I really hoofed it up for that chick. I did my big courtship peace-dance … But she gave me the brush-off. Wrong species."

"She didn't eat you," said Vinnie. He was genuinely curious.