Spring Butterfly's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Spring flew west, but the wind soon changed. She passed a dark garden house on a low rise. Its roof spread like black wings. Roses climbed the walls, red as blood. A cold went through her wings, and she dropped fast. She landed hard by the crooked door and could not lift off again. A thin voice came from the shadows inside. "Lost, little one?" An old butterfly crept out. Her wings were pale and torn, streaked with gray. Her legs were long and bent like twigs. She moved slow, but her eyes stayed sharp on Spring. "I only stopped to rest," Spring said. She tried to fly. Her wings would not answer. The chill from this place had sunk deep. The old butterfly smiled. "Many rest here. Few leave." She stepped closer. "Stay. It is warm inside. You need not fly at all." Spring's heart pounded. The words sounded kind, but the voice was cruel underneath. She looked past the roses at the dark windows. Something in there wanted her to stop wanting the ocean. It felt like her own fear made real. "No," Spring said. "I have to reach the sea." "The sea is far," the old one said. "Your mother is close. Go back to her. She waits." That was the trap. Spring saw it now. The chill wanted to send her home for good. But her mother was safe in the glass house. Her mother had told her to go. Turning back now would waste every hard thing she had done. Spring pressed her cold legs against the stone. She thought of her mother's last words at the sanctuary door. She thought of the gulls crossing the sky each dusk. She forced one wing to move, then the other. It hurt like ice cracking. "You cannot fly," the old butterfly said. She reached out a long leg. Spring beat her wings once, hard. She lifted a hand's breadth off the ground. The old one lunged, but Spring was already climbing. The cold clawed at her, then let go. She rose above the black roof and the red roses and did not look down. She flew until the dark house was small behind her. Warmth crept back into her wings. Her body still shook, but she was moving, and she was moving west. Ahead the sky opened wide and empty. Spring had beaten the chill. She had beaten the pull to go home. But now she saw how far she truly was from the water. Alone, with tired wings, she had no idea how many days of open sky still lay between her and the sea.