A darkness that transforms any daring ray of light spreads
from the land and gobbles from within. The little frog
squeaks, he knows by natures gift, that doom is at hand. He
.crocks, and watches his female escape for her life. Alone
Alone, so utterly in the dark. Blood washes his eyes, but
he can not see, can not feel. A red drop falls to the damp
ground, tearing the silence. It begins to burn. Slowly, the
glow grows; the frog knows that the slightest steer of wind
will neutralize it. No. a leaf does not fall, nor breath
.exhaled. It gains power; the frog knows - the end is near
Another drop of blood, his DNA, falls beside the fire. And
in a strong burst of flame and cells, the frog thinks no
longer. The mate, revealed to have escaped, feasts on eggs
she has stored in her. A fly appears, wings roasted, lips
and teeth bloody, his hair disappeared in a blast of black
fire. The mate watches him steadily; something about his
,smell seems familiar. Since his wings don't take him far
he settles nearby and 'fling!' Only two gentle blood marks
.represent his ever being