The Spider and the Butterfly

Chapter One

A gentle spring breeze blew through the plains. Schoolchildren were out and about gathering pansies and bluebonnets, laughing merrily. They didn't seem to mind the honeybees flitting around them. A few butterflies were out too. There were monarchs, red admirals, California dogfaces, and even a few buckeyes.

But in the midst of them was a little emerald swallowtail. She was only a month old, and she had been following the crowd of butterflies for a few days now. Her name was Daisy. She called herself that after the first flower she drunk nectar out of. She didn't have a mother that she knew of.

As young as she was, Daisy learned to be cautious. Too often, there had been butterflies who had been easily caught and eaten by other insects. Or even frogs and lizards could get them. She hadn't heard of many spiders roaming the area. There was an ocassional black widow that often tried jumping out at them, but so far, arachnids were far and few between.

Daisy socialized with the other butterflies, and they all got along splendidly. But she couldn't help feeling sad. All the others had friends that looked just like them, or even a mate for that matter. As far as she was concerned, she was the only emerald swallowtail in this entire plain. It made her feel hollow inside.

As she flew from flower to flower, she couldn't help but notice a few red wasps dashing about as well. The children acted wary of this and ran back to the village. Much to Daisy's surprise, the wasps started flying around her.

Instead of going for any of the surrounding flowers, they zeroed in on her.

Daisy tried to get out of their path, but one of them ended up colliding with her. She squeaked in surprise as the wasp clutched her close to its body. "Don't move or I'll sting you," it threatened. Completely helpless, Daisy was flown through the fields.

The butterfly felt scared. Wasps didn't eat butterflies, did they? What did they want from her?

She didn't want to find out. If she did nothing, she would die anyway. She was sure of it. Anything a wasp got its mitts on was never seen again. So, despite being a weak little bug, Daisy jerked free from the wasp's grasp. It growled and dove for her. She screamed and flapped the opposite direction. The wasp was much quicker. It tried to sieze her again. Daisy went into a freefall before opening her wings again.

More wasps, perhaps over a dozen of them, flew her way. Daisy yelped, fluttering as fast as she could towards the prairie grass. Perhaps she could lose them there.

She almost made it, too. But in her desperate attempt to get away, she collided with a rose stem. The sharp thorns tore part of her wing off and she fell. The wasps veered away, pursuing her no farther. Daisy kept falling.

She slid down a dirt trail, coming to a stop in a clearing. All around her was tall prairie grass. Daisy slowly got up, looking around her. This was a very strange place for her. She was so used to seeing wide open fields full of flowers and the bright blue sky. An ominous feeling loomed within her.

Daisy tried to get back into the air again. She couldn't; her left wing flopped uselessly at her side. "Oh, no. No..." she whimpered. She tried again. The butterfly got only about half an inch off the ground before falling once more. Daisy cried, tears streaming down her face. She needed to find help. She didn't know where those wasps went or what they wanted with her, but if she didn't find a way to fix her wing quickly, she was as good as dead. A grounded butterfly had the lowest survival rate than any other insect.