The Butterfly flutters through the dwindling forest dwelling its stumbled upon in search of a place of rest. The emblazoned Butterfly pops vibrantly against scant and somewhat muted hues of color of the once thriving forest, with The Butterfly’s bright purple and gold coloring, and intricate patterns stretched across its wingspan. The Butterfly flies so effortlessly, but the other creatures of the forest hardly take notice, purely focused on their movements across the earthy soil.

It is another strikingly bright day, The sun shining high as ever, an undeniable presence in the sky. The sun hasn’t set for many cycles, and because of it, many insect beings of the forest move only on the ground beneath the cover of broad encapsulating plants that grow fewer by the day.

One of those Ground Beings, moving from one sanctuary of shade to another alongside its friends, spots the graceful Butterfly flittering spiritedly through the air.

“Hey, you shouldn’t do that.”

The Butterfly gradually descends nearer the Ground Being, curious about the warning.

“Do what?”

“Fly, it’s dangerous.”

“How come?”

“Don’t you know the story? It’s been many many cycles past. There was a time when kin ground beings had wings, and they would eventually take flight. When asked why, they would say it was because their wings wouldn’t allow them to

stay. So they would wander out into the sky, flying so high and leaving the others behind. They became known as ‘those lost to the sun’. It was decided by those left behind, to never get lost to the sun. We must remain with and protect one another here. The problem is, more and more of us are ceasing to be. More and more of us are bing uprooted because our homes are being wiped out. And the sun, once known to take rest for some of the day, seems now to be present at all times. So we rely on the cover of our plant friends to stay safe, and not lose those that remain to the whims of The sky. We focus on what is in front of us, instead of looking up.

The Butterfly begins to notice for the first time, the various creatures moving underneath the comfort of the shade of the leaves. It sees that each of them many of them adorn wings, including their new friend.

“But don’t you know you were meant to fly? We all were”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you have wings just like me.” As though it were the most obvious fact in the world.

“What, these?” The Ground Being flits its wings once, unable to maintain for more than a moment. “Well I don’t need them down here. I’ve never had to use them before.”

The Butterfly takes a moment to consider The Beetle’s words.

“What happens when the plants that shield you are no more? I’ve seen for myself, the forests are not as full and lush as they once were.”

“We are learning to make ourselves small enough so more of us can fit under cover together.”

“You know, in my first existence, I only ever knew the soil of the ground, but I would always overhear stories about life in the sky, told by those who had ever ventured to go, but got hurt, or grew weary of their journey and returned. Over time, I began to transform. My appetite for more expanded, and so I took in more; food made of stories, life, leaves. The more I fed, I began stretching, growing, and shedding, until finally, all I could do was create a safe haven to hold me as I grew. When I was finally ready to come into my new existence, I had these”, The Butterfly flutters its wings for affect.

“And somehow I knew if I didn’t use them, I would cease to be. So I flew. It scared me at first, especially after being wrapped in the most beautiful warm silk, but once I re-emerged I had no choice but to know the feeling of the freedom of the skies, and there was no way I could go back.

“There was a time much further back, when more of us had wings and knew our place in the air. Generation after generation, our ability to take to the air became a shrinking art that only smaller number of us can still do today. We may have adapted to life without flying, but we never lost our wings. I am of both beings of the air and the ground. Some of my forekin found freedom in the sky, some found their freedom on the ground; when you know what you truly are, you can make that choice for yourself. What I’ve learned, is that over time, so many of my forekin ground beings never realized they carried wings, so to choose the ground, was never really their choice.”

They sat together in silence for a time, until The Butterfly spoke up again. This time in preparation for making their departure.

“It wasn’t until I let the sky kiss my wings, that I could see any other way to be.”

__

Over the course of many days, The Butterfly makes sure to fly over that very same area of forest, something it never does. Once it has left a place, it does not turn back. And yet, The Butterfly does it in hopes that eventually, it won’t see The Ground Being still there. But everyday, there they are working harder and harder to find peace in the shade of remaining plant friends to shield themselves from the unrelenting shine of the sun.

The time has come, The Butterfly can’t wait anymore. So they swoop down toward their friend.

“I think you should come with me.” says The Butterfly.

“You know I can’t” The Ground Being replies.