Light shocked out of his slatted belly and the world exploded with meaning. He was a glowing arc across the nullity of darkness. His very being was focused: to connect.

He and his fellow artists were chips of sunlight smuggled from day into gloom. Illumination streamed from his being. When a woman responded from her private world in the vital undergrowth, he did not so much see her message as become it: that female response pressed directly on his soul.

He felt too bright to eat, these days. He knew that it was important to chew, to swallow, but he couldn't seem to focus any interest in anything but mating. It was as much as he could do to suck a little nectar in the after-hours, during the blue glow of dawn. Even tasty loaves of pollen seemed boring now, beneath him somehow. There was a clarity, a purity in this radiant giving of his essence.

It could not last, he knew that. Yet each new gout of light, as it burst from his flesh, each bout of soul-bruising carnality, pushed him closer to wisdom.

Once airborne, he forgot Peck at once. It made no sense to waste his art on some dirt-bound spider. The evening air was a pageant of glittering rivals. The ground below was bejeweled with willing women.

The night was splendor itself. The air had just the right level of dampness to avoid desiccation, and a light, assisting breeze that was perfect for stunting. His powerful wing muscles blew heat through his long body. He lit up like a falling star.

He was reaching a personal best, this evening: he felt calm, mellow, yet tingling with anticipation. He looped, he swirled: masterful accents against the velvet darkness. No frenzy anymore, never too much zeal: his glittering arcs were a languid commentary on the universe, an invitation to enhance one's state of being.

The other flyboys in the evening air with him tonight … Yes, these were his rivals, the genetic competition, but Vinnie couldn't help but admire their skill. Some ugly bitterness had died within him tonight. Even the worst among them …. the guys pulling cheap stunts, the vulgar ones who just trawled the briar patch, same old same old … At least they had heart. They had desire, need. Life meant something, even to them.