There is a foal that leaps and bounds among the fireflies, visible only for the sparkle in its eye and the gnashing of white teeth. It leaps up again, bites hard at the air with an audible click, and falls to the ground once more. It raises its hindquarters now to launch as high as it can manage, and now, as it gnashes its teeth, it tastes the bitter crunch of a doomed glowbug. The foal gives an excited whinny and leaps up again, but something is different. There is a stinging pain in its rump and back, and his mirth turns to fear. He bites hard at his hide, trying in vain to quell the pain.
Wide holes upon up in its fur, and a light begins to shine from within. It is a bright blue that shimmers for feet in every direction, and a heat of orange rushes down horns and plates and through wild eyes. The foal holds its head up high as the lightning bugs surround it, hungry for its light.
