There was a time long ago when the world was younger, that a tiny egg sat on a tiny leaf, and from that egg hatched a very small caterpillar. But she did not remain small for long, no! The grasses were plentiful that year, and with her brother and sisters and cousins she ate hungrily. Leaves disappeared, then stems, and when the last bite was munched right down to the dirt she moved on to the next stalk, and so things continued for quite some time. All the caterpillar’s world was stalk and leaf and shoot and stem, and even as her brothers and sisters began to tire and yawn and pull cocoons over themselves, still the little caterpillar continued to eat and eat until she was the last one awake in the whole of that part of the prairie. Only then did she curl up beneath a broad leaf, take one last tiny nibble - for who can go to sleep without a proper bedtime snack - and at last spin a lovely little cocoon to fall asleep in.

Days and nights passed then as all the caterpillars slumbered beneath sun and moon, rocked by Arda’s winds. As he gave way to his sister’s gentle touch, the cocoons began to stir amidst the tall, waving grasses. One by one, the little caterpillar’s brothers and sisters and cousins emerged and stretched their wings, savoring the feel of the wind across them. As one, they all fluttered up into the gentle moonlight in a great cloud, waltzing and cavorting about. Pairing off with dance partners they tumbled about the sky, and all of them whisked away southward before the first light of dawn touched the horizon. All, that is, save one.

Having eaten her fill and then some, the little caterpillar slumbered into the long hours of the next morning. At the touch of dawns light she only muttered gently for a few more minutes, snuggling down deeper into her dreams. But as the sun shone down and its golden warmth soaked deep into her cocoon, she at last stirred and stretched, wriggled and writhed, and burst forth into the day’s light.

And what a sight she was! After all of that eating and all of that sleeping, her wings stretched out and out, gleaming reds and golds and yellows and every color in between. She flapped them and marveled at how large they were, seeming to catch the sunlight itself until they glowed with a light of their own. Never before had the prairie seen wings such as those, and she took to the sky, dancing and tumbling in the afternoon breeze. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, “to have wings such as these! I must go and find all my brothers and sisters and cousins right away!” And off she dashed… or tried to, at least. She moved too quickly in her haste, and her magnificent wings suddenly grew too full of wind and collapsed, sending her spiraling out of control! She righted herself, and set off once more, but again her wings could not take the strain of high speed flight, and buckled.

She perched on a tall blade of grass, gasping for breath, her antenna twitching in dismay. “Oh, my wings! My magnificent wings, but I cannot fly quickly enough! I will never catch up to my brothers and sisters and cousins now! I do not even know where they might have gone, and now I will never know them at all.” She sniffled little butterfly tears for a moment, and then shook herself crossly. “No, I shall not give up! They will see my wings, even if I must walk the whole way!”

Can you believe that a butterfly had such a strength to her? For right away she picked herself up and cast about, trying to determine which direction that her family might have gone. The afternoon sun provided little traces to follow, but she searched and searched, and at last found the faint glint of orange wing scales left scattered across a tiny leaf. “Ah hah! They have gone this way, and likely continue southward still! For there is a chill in the air, and if they are anything like me, a bit more warmth sounds like the perfect plan! So off I go!” And so determined she fluttered away to the south, towards a scattering of trees and a darker shadow across the far horizon.

She rested once, that evening, for she knew the journey would be a long one. Trees stood tall as she floated southward the following day, growing more and more numerous as the dark shape on the horizon became larger and larger, until it became a forest of trunks reaching high up into the sky. The butterfly wove her way between the trunks, until the sunlight was dimmed and dappled and sounds grew muffled beneath the spreading branches. Resolute, she pushed forward, but it was not long before she found herself flitting about in circles. Her wings drooped, tired from the long bout of flying, and so she rested against the bark of one wide trunk. She sighed so deeply that it set her wings to quivering. “Now I am lost as well! Oh, now I will never, ever catch up with my family. I don’t want to be alone in this deep, dark wood!”

There was a great and growly noise then, as if in answer to the butterfly’s misery. It echoed from a dark hole in the trunk, which she had not noticed as she drooped with the weight of her sadness. Now a voice grumbled and roared from the darkness, “Hey! Who is out there making that moaning and muttering! I’m trying to nap!” Out of the hole popped the furry head of a wolverine, who yawned hugely to show his pointy teeth. He glared at the butterfly, who shook against the bark. There are few who can stand against a full on glare from a wolverine! “Well go on, off with you! I can’t get a wink of sleep with all of your complaining!”

“Oh, uh, M-mr. Wolverine, sir, I…” the butterfly started to say, but the wolverine cut her off with a paw.

“What’s this? Some kind of moth, fluttering about my den! Away, scat, shoo with you! I have naps to finish and bears to yell at!” And he waved her away in dismissal. Startled, she flapped awkwardly into the air, where a ray of sunshine pierced the canopy and caught in her wings. The whole of the wood seemed to catch fire with many hues, and the wolverine’s voice died in his throat. He coughed once and goggled. “Well I’ll be, I’ve never seen a moth near as pretty as all that! What are you, stranger?”

“Please, sir!” The butterfly flapped back closer, her wings dimming once more. “I’m trying to find my family, t-they went away south, but the woods are confusing, an-”

“Lost, huh! Family, eeeeeeh well I’m not one much for it.” The wolverine looked the butterfly up and down, and then harrumphed. “Not much for it though, or else you’ll be back around again in a moment while I’m trying to nod back off. Besides, ain’t every day some critter as pretty as the stars above comes by my den! I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any like you before sorry to say, but I know someone who might’ve.” With that, he jumped to the ground with a great thump, stretched, and sauntered off into the woods. After a moment he turned to look over one shoulder. “Well, you comin’ or what?” And so off he went, with the butterfly skipping forward to perch on his shoulder.

They walked and walked through the day, until the trees started to thin once again. At last they came to a dead tree which stood taller than its neighbors. Way up near the very top of its branches was an enormous clump of sticks, poking out this way and that and several more besides. “HEY!” yelled the wolverine at the top of his lungs. “HEY, FEATHERS! GET DOWN HERE!” But no matter how he shouted and smacked at the bark of the tree with his paws, nothing stirred high up above. The butterfly had flown off a little ways, not wanting to be accidentally smashed in the wolverine’s fury; now she became curious, and flitted up to try to get a look at who her companion was yelling at so loudly. As the sun caught in her wings, there was a great squawk from up above. Wings shot out to either side of the nest, and down swooped the largest eagle that the butterfly had ever seen!

“Oye now, sir!” she cried, perching just above them and clacking her beak, “there’s no need for all this racket and fuss! Most times I wouldn’t bother with solicitors as rude as yourself, but you.” At this she turned her head to peer intensely at the butterfly. “I have not seen a sight nigh as beautiful as you in many a season! Why, your family passes through twice a year, and-”

“So you have seen my family?” The butterfly flapped up at that, spreading her wings wide in joy. “Only, they left to the south without me, I think. And I cannot hope to catch them, with wings like mine. Did you see which way that they traveled?”

“Well of course I saw! What do you take me for, some near-sighted finch?” The eagle ruffled her feathers in pride, only to glare down at the wolverine’s scoff. “I can certainly see why you haven’t found them yet however, if this is the help you’ve gotten.”

“W-why you! Come down here and say that again, you great lump of fluff!” The eagle screeched in laughter as the wolverine raged below, and not much of any help was done until the butterfly once more flapped up between the two. She spread her wings wide and caught the sun with them, dazzling both creatures to silence.

“Enough! Please! I just want help to find my family, a-and so if you’re not going to help, say so and I’ll keep flying south on my own!” The wolverine and the eagle both looked ashamed at this. “Er, sorry,” said the eagle, and the wolverine muttered an apology as well. “I saw the rest of you away to the south, down past where the river bends. If you ride with the wolverine, then I shall fly above, and guide us.” The butterfly agreed to this, and so they set out across the plains that spread out south of the wood.

The day wore steadily on until the sun began to dip low. The eagle drooped lower and lower in the sky, and the butterfly could feel the wolverine tiring despite his protestations; they were all tired, and so when they came upon the bank of a river rushing by them on its way southward, the butterfly gave a great flap of her wings as a signal for them all to come to a halt. “We must rest,” she said as the eagle landed beside the wolverine, panting slightly. “We will have to keep chasing my family in the morning.”

“What’s this about a missing family?” All of them jumped at the new voice, calling up from the river’s edge. A brown and furry head popped up over the edge of the bank; and otter, who barked at them in amazement. “Oh rapids and tumult, I thought I was seeing things, with that much color bobbing along besides the water! But ain’t you just the prettiest little thing! And you’re trying to find your family, you said?”

“Well, uh, hello! And yes,” said the butterfly, flitting over to land just before the newcomer. “Only we have traveled far all of today, and must rest now, as much as I wish we could continue.

The otter twitched her whiskers at that, and chuckled warmly. “My word, but a gorgeous thing like yourself? I can do you better than that! You just climb aboard, and we’ll float you on downstream easy as you please! If you hitch a ride through the dark hours, you’ll catch up your siblings and cousins in two shakes of a tail. Er, wing!” And with that, she disappeared once more over the edge of the bank.

The rest shuffled forward, the wolverine grousing to himself that one otter wasn’t nearly enough to float him. A chorus of barks had them all peering over the edge, to find a score of otters all grinning up at them. The eagle and the butterfly flapped down to perch on a friendly belly, while the wolverine clambered down the bank with a steady stream of grumbling to join them. When they were all settled the otters pushed off into the current, and the whole group began to float down the river as the sun spread fire across the western horizon.

All through the night they bobbed along in the current, rocked to sleep with the sounds of otter snores. As the sun crested the eastern horizon once more and the sky lit up, the butterfly shook its wings and awoke where she had perched on the head otter. Hearing an odd noise, she fluttered one wing under the otter’s nose. Snorting as she was awoken, the otter cracked one eye open. “Mmmf, what is it, sunshine?”

“There’s an odd, rumbly noise coming from ahead,” said the butterfly, at which point the otter came fully awake, whistling something to her kin.

“Aah, we’ve made good time then! Gotta land this raft before the waterfall though; normally we’d just slip ourselves over, but I doubt y’all would take kindly to getting wet!” She chuckled as the group paddled for the shore. The wolverine was the first to disembark, complaining loudly about the damp in his fur. The eagle flapped up into the morning air, and called a greeting to someone the rest could not see. At that the butterfly took to the air as well, leaving the otters and the wolverine to clamber up the bank. Flapping up to join the eagle, she immediately spotted the newcomer. A young bison stood foraging through the new grasses at the top of the bank, and the butterfly called her own greeting and floated closer.

“Hello to you, travelers!” The young bison smiled as the butterfly approached. “Aah, another comes south to join the migration! What has you following behind your family, and with such varied company as this?” The butterfly explained once more the circumstances that had led to her being left behind, the bison gasping or laughing in turn as the story unfolded. “My my, what a tale you tell, my brightly colored friend! I saw the rest of your kin just yesterday, as I passed northward to make camp. Come, ride on me, and I will take you to them!” As the wolverine made his grumbling way up to them, he yelped as the bison picked him up and set him upon her broad back. The eagle came to perch alongside him, laughing uproariously, and the butterfly merely settled herself upon the bison’s horn as she bid her thanks to the departing otters, and the group set off on the final part of their trek.

The bison trotted along, the eagle and wolverine bickering good-naturedly as the sun shone down on them all. The hills of the prairie rolled and spread out before them, the grass rippling green and gold in the sunshine. The butterfly felt hope fill her from antenna to abdomen - soon, she would rejoin her family!

And sure enough, coming over a final line of hills, the grasslands spread out below them seemed to have caught fire in a dazzling display of reds and oranges, yellows and golds, and all the colors in between. From the foot of the hill to the far horizon, butterflies flitted and floated and fluttered through the air, or perched thick on the ground or hung from bushes and trees. They rose up in a cloud about the bison as the group picked their way down the slope, muttering and murmuring between themselves. When the butterfly flew up to greet them all however, they hushed and giggled and pointed her onwards, to the center of the swarm. So the bison continued to pick her way forward, stepping gingerly as more and more of the butterfly’s kin swirled in her wake.

It did not take long for them to reach their destination; ahead, they could see from some way off the swirl and spiral of butterflies rising up high into the sky in their great migration dance. As the bison and her passengers approached, the swirl and sparkle broke apart and dissolved as it seemed the whole of the sky became full of flapping wings. The dancers crowded close, and the butterfly rose up to greet them at last. “Brothers, sisters, cousins! You left before I had awoken, and I have traveled far to find you. I am so delighted to see you once again!” She swirled up into the air, her delicate wings flashing in the sun, and there were gasps of amazement.

“Sister! We missed you when we set out, but none of us could miss you now! How incredible it is that you came so far, with such wings,” they cried aloud. “They were not made for flying! How could you possibly have caught up with us?” They swirled around her then, and waggled their wings in disapproval. “Will you not merely slow us, now that you have re-joined the family? Perhaps it would have been better for you to stay!”

The words struck the butterfly like a sudden rain fall. She drooped and alighted once more upon the bison’s horn, ashamed to be so different from the rest of her family. “No, I- … I can be just as strong as any of you! I will not slow you down! You will see!”

The other butterflies only murmured and giggled and spun around her, while she wilted like a flower on a dry day. Seeing her sadness, the bison snorted and called out, “Here now! How can it be, that her wings were not made to fly? For did they not bring many friends to her side, who helped her on her way? Why, she traveled more quickly than any of you, to have found you here! You yourselves were amazed; think of what you all might see, if you were to let her join your dance!” And with that she tossed her head, sending the butterfly soaring up into the air. Her spirits lifted with her, and the butterfly spread her wings as wide as they would go, flapped them as hard as she ever had before. They shone as she shot skyward, shone with not only the light of the sun, but with her own joy and happiness in flying. She shone so bright that the rest of the butterflies could see her, all the way out the horizon, and as she began the steps of a new dance, all of her brothers and sisters, all of her cousins and family, could join in as one. They spiraled up and circled, rings enclosing rings in fluttering steps that filled the whole of the sky.

As that first great migration dance of the butterflies came to its last steps, all of the dancers turning to the south to continue their journey, the butterfly floated gently down to where her friends waited, wide-eyed and full of wonder at the beauty of what they had seen. “Friends! We all must go now, but I want to thank you! Thank you, for helping me, for bearing me here to re-join my family. I could not have done it without you.”

“Awww, go on,” said the wolverine and turned his head away to hide an embarrassed smile. The eagle cawed aloud, and the bison smiled, her tail swishing back and forth in merriment.

“It is our joy to have met you, my fluttering friend! And we shall meet again; go now, and when you return, tell us all the tales of what you and your family have seen. We will be waiting!” The wolverine and the eagle raised their voice in agreement, the wolverine loudly proclaiming he would be the one to tell the otter to keep an eye out as well. The butterfly floated to each in turn, waggling her wings in blessing to her dear friends.

“Then it is not good-bye, but until we see each other all again!” With that she rose up into the sky once more, the swarm of butterflies blowing in her wake as she led them all southwards once more.

And such is the way of it!