Andrew smiled at the idea. Catching the strange little insects sounded like a nice idea, but keeping them until they died actually hurt a little. "M... maybe we could... let them go before they die. I wouldn't feel right, killing them like that..." Even if they didn't live all that long a life. He wished he knew more about the insects. His father hadn't, but he'd told Andrew that his own father had been the good friend of an Indian chief and had learned many, many things about the land and hunting, making one's own clothes and even some simple, but beautiful instruments. He'd told Andy about them, but had never shown him.

He looked up and felt an odd, unusual emptiness settle in his stomach. It was so unnatural he settled down and pressed a hand against himself. "Um... no... I was... I was alone when I was fourteen. And I just... wandered around. And then when White found me... I thought she was all I needed. I never really thought about it I guess..." But now he did. The looming idea of Joey leaving him behind, perhaps when he screwed up beyond reconciliation, was an idea that hurt his heart, hurt as if an iron hand were squeezing it, made his eyes sting until he blinked the feeling away.