Burl was aware of wasps with stings nearly as long as his own body that could rapidly kill prey. The skulking tribe members of Burl had minimal fear of wasps since each species had a defined prey item. Invoking the horrifying screams of his grandfather, who had been attacked by a black-bellied tarantula years ago, he opened his mouth to scream. In addition to crickets, beetles, and spiders, Burl once spotted a swarm of large, red Amazon ants moving in a neat line across a blue-green mold that had emerged from the river. Under the same silky covering, the tarantula writhed in agony on Burl's spear point. He awaited the introduction of the poison fangs. Above the flames, moths, flying beetles, enormous gnats, and midges performed the death dance. Burl could see them as the flames drew closer to him. Moths beat the air fiercely with their wildly colored thirty-foot-spread wings. As they fixed their crazed attention on the blazing fires below them, their enormous eyes shone like carbuncles. It didn't matter to Burl that one large insect was consuming another. He kept vigil, his eyes darting from the cricket to the odd opening behind the trap.
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