Butterflies

The scenery still looks precisely the same, yet they have traveled for days. The grass still grayed by the cold winter air, and the trees the same pale green. The lonely time in the forest has begun. Winter. All the butterflies migrated down south for a warmer climate, leaving the trees with only the wind to keep them company.

The only thing that lives in the forest is the winged splashes of rainbow colors. All the rest left after the war, either dead or too scared to return to the wretched forest. The remaining deer are now hiding in the neighboring woods, commonly known as Firemount Forest. The few bears still alive live in the Thunkulariver area. Even the fish has abandoned the river on which the two people travel now. The war didn’t only kill numerous people and animals but also scar those that lived through it. 

Aria glances concerned at her blue-eyed brother. The azure pupils do not meet her gaze, focusing fully on the unchanged topography. They are the first of their kind to come near the deserted trees, although still a long distance away but closer than any human has come since the great shootings. 

After days of silence, Finn finally answers Aria’s looks of distress. 

“I already told you,” he says quietly, yet indignantly, “We have to do this. We have no other choice”

The only response she can manage is a disgruntled stare. All this was for a good cause. It had to be. It was their mother's last wish before her passing. They had to satisfy her final desire. She was a strong woman. Cautious, but strong. Everything she did was selfless, yet helpful. 

The journey they took was precarious. If anything went wrong, they couldn’t continue. The canoe had to be prepared with food and water supplies, sealant -in case a hole appeared- and warm clothes and blankets. What they didn't account for, was the time they are spending in silence, both too frightened and tired to say more than necessary. Ennui filled Aria and Finn’s minds and left them drowning in the ocean of their thoughts. 

Everything was dull and gloomy. It seemed that even the rays of the sun were scared off by the sound of the gunshots and explosions. Aria’s hair blew in the brumal breeze as she thought about her mother's death. She tried to save her. She tried to make her better but failed. This is mostly why she did not turn back on this expedition, she does not want to fail her mother once more. 

“We’re almost at the end of the forest, ” a deep voice she forgot was accompanying her says, “I can see the clearing.” 

The long journey on the narrow, winding river was coming to an end, which also meant that they had to start searching soon. The last piece of their father they had left. All of it in a small aluminum container the size of a graham cracker. 

The last part of the forest, the part they are now next to, looks the worst. That is where most of Their bombs landed. The ground was ragged and uneven. Some parts will never be able to accommodate a flower in spring, or a seedling from the trees above. That is what happens when pride and lust become more essential than humanity. More vital than hope. It destroys everything caring and loving. It destroys the very thing it replaces.

Finn uses one of the paddles and steers the canoe gently until it hits the riverbank. They get off the tiny, wooden boat cautiously. Their mother's instructions were clear: “At the place where the trees stop growing, roughly 200 meters from the bank, your father left us all a small tin with something sentimental in it.” 

Her final wish on her deathbed was to go and get the small box meant for the four of us, only two left. The war changed the way everyone thinks about life. You suddenly appreciate every living being around you, as if their lives can be taken away at any moment. You ponder about your actions towards others, as it might be your last interaction with one another.

Aria stops after about fifty meters of walking. Finn looks back to see her glancing in horror into the place that tore their lives apart. He walks back and takes her ice-cold hand. Together they walk, eyes on the ground, examining every inch of it, only stopping momentarily whenever either suspects a piece of the soil of being a small aluminum container. 

Aria tries to maintain her hope, but after a long while, she loses her patience. She drops Finn’s hand and starts crying. 

“It’s gone. The last bit of Dad we had is missing and I don't know what to think or what to feel. I'm in a labyrinth and every turn I take leads to a dead end. I need help. I don't want to let Mom down, but I can't do this anymore.”

Finn grabs Aria around her shoulders and hugs her tight.

 “We’re all lost, Aria. None of us know what to do. We survived one of the worst battles ever, but still lost so much we wonder whether we really survived. I need your help too, Aria. I need you to be strong.”

She inhales deeply. The fresh air fills her lungs and for the first time she sees the pale place on her left as quite pretty. She and Finn continue their seemingly endless walk. Still hopeless, but determined. Shattered but still functional. 

That night they walked back to the tied up canoe, took out their blankets and food and made ready for bed. After days and days of searching intensely, they decided to stop and accept the outcome of their search for the box. 

The little container was hidden in the ground. The soil covered it when the bombs were detonated.

Aria and Finn knew that the journey was not purely about finding the box, but about getting out of the city filled with heartbreak and loss, and seeing the beauty in the scarred places. 

You'll see, the butterflies will return next summer.