Spring Butterfly's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Morning came, but Spring did not fly west. She could not leave her mother alone with no one to guard her. So she set out across the meadow to find someone who could care for her while she was gone. She searched all day. The other butterflies turned their backs. None would take on a frail old stranger. By dusk Spring landed near the far edge of the meadow, tired and afraid. There she found her brother. Black Butterfly lounged on a dark leaf, his wings folded in sharp purple and black. He watched her come with a thin smile. He had chased her from every flower she loved when they were young. "You've come to beg," he said. He did not move to greet her. "Mother needs care," Spring said. "I'm leaving for the ocean. I only need you to watch over her." He laughed. "I won't waste a wing on her. Fly off and let her fend for herself. That's your choice, not mine." Spring's legs trembled. She had known his answer before she asked. But hearing it made the truth solid. Her brother would never help. If she left, her mother would have no one. She flew home in the dark. Her mother waited on the porch rail, small and gray, her worn wings tucked close. "You didn't go," her mother said. "I won't leave you defenseless," Spring said. "But I found something. On my way back I passed a glass house near the garden. Butterflies live inside it. Guards stand at every door. Vines and flowers grow along the walls." Her mother went still. "A sanctuary." "They keep the weak and old safe," Spring said. "No one cruel can get in. You would have food and shelter. You would never be alone." Her mother looked down at her thin legs. "You want to send me away." "I want you safe," Spring said. "If you go there, then I can go to the ocean. And it isn't far. I could visit you." For a long moment her mother said nothing. The last gulls crossed the sky toward the west. Her mother watched them, then watched her daughter. "I hoped you'd stay," she said softly. "But I see now you never will. Take me to the glass house, Spring. I'd rather be safe there than hold you here." Spring pressed close to her mother's frail side. Her chest ached and lifted at once. At first light they set out together. Spring flew slow so her mother could keep pace. They reached the glass house by midmorning. The guards opened the door. Inside, other old butterflies rested among the flowers, warm and guarded. Her mother stepped through the door. She turned once to look back. "Go find your ocean," she said. The door closed. Her mother was safe now. Nothing kept Spring in the meadow any longer. She turned west, toward the gulls, toward the water she had dreamed of all her life. But her wings felt heavier than she thought they would.