The creature touched the Glowrot. The purple fuzz did not burn. Instead, it sang —a low, inaudible hum that made Pliny’s leg joints tingle. The blight on the strawberry began to recede, curling into a single, jewel-like spore.
“What if,” Pliny clicked, “the blight is not our enemy? What if it’s a teacher?” A Bug-s Life
The Queen’s antennae went still. The colony held its breath. The creature touched the Glowrot