The Spider and the Butterfly

Chapter Five

The cottage was still and calm, its elderly occupant working at a counter. She seemed oblivious to the bugs' presence. Right now, the old woman seemed focused on her latest project: a small leather satchel she was knitting together.

"Over here," Dot whispered. The insects walked over to a waste basket that was overflowing with strips of leather. "Take your pick, Daisy."

Daisy examined the many strips of leather spilling out of the bin. "Maybe this one will do," she told the others, pointing at a wide but relatively short piece protruding from the pile.

Sage nodded. "I'm on it!"

The grasshopper leapt up onto the bin with a thump. "Not so loud!" Dot whispered, casting a glance over at the woman. Sage tried to yank the leather piece out, but it stuck. "C'mon," he grunted. Unfortunately, he pulled a bit too hard, and the waste basket started to topple over.

"Daisy, look out!" Dot screamed, shoving the butterfly aside. The bin slammed into the floor with a resounding crash, sending the leather pieces flying everywhere.

The old woman looked over. "What on earth was that?" she exclaimed. Dot and Sage scrambled underneath a nearby stool, but Daisy helplessly fluttered, trying to untangle herself from the leather pieces. When the human approached, the butterfly whimpered, crouching low.

A giant, yet gentle hand scooped Daisy up. "Oh, my!" the old woman said. "You're so beautiful! Oh, you poor little thing! Your wing's broken!" She carried the butterfly to the window and opened it. Directly outside grew a few yellow rose bushes. Daisy was put on one of these. "There you go," the old woman warmly murmured. "At least you'll be able to have a nice drink of nectar now. Good luck out there, sweetheart."

When the woman had left, Daisy looked down for her friends. "Sage? Dot! Where are you?" she called. Soon enough, she saw them running up under the rose bush. "Daisy!" Dot cried. "How did you get up there? Oh, Sage! We must do something!"

Sage, who somehow managed to hang on to the leather piece in the previous turmoil, stood at attention. "Not to worry, Daisy! I'll get you!" The grasshopper steeled his legs, hunching his body low to the ground. With a loud thwack, he kicked himself up into the air, landing on a branch next to the butterfly.

"Hang on," Sage said. He crawled over to where Daisy was. "Get on my back. And don't let go, ok?" Daisy nodded, wrapping her arms tightly around Sage's waist.

Dot looked like she was going to faint. "Oh, goodness gracious! Don't fall off, Daisy!"

Sage jumped down. The butterfly felt an adrenaline rush as they fell towards the ground, and when they hit the ground she almost DID fall off. "Be careful!" she chided Sage. "That's not how you treat a delicate little lady!"

The grasshopper snorted. "Well, sorry! I don't jump around with dainty girls on my back very often! You need to stop freaking out over everything, Dot. It's gonna get us killed one of these days!"

Dot exclaimed, "My instincts are what has kept us alive so far! Besides, I wasn't the one who knocked over the waste basket in there! Your clumsiness is what's gonna get us killed, not me!"

"Hey! That was an accident! Also, you took off and left Daisy!"

"So did you!"

Daisy yelled, "Stop! Both of you!"

They quieted down, looking rather ashamed of themselves.

Sighing, the butterfly picked up the leather piece. "We've got what we came for. Now let's just go back to Fang's den before it gets dark. And please...stop fighting."

The ladybug and the grasshopper stared at one another for a moment before Dot took the lead again. "She's right," Dot said. "Sage, please help her carry the leather." Reluctantly, the grasshopper picked up the other end of the piece and made his way down the path with his two friends.

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It was nearing the end of spring. As night descended, nocturnal bugs came out to play. Crickets played their melodious orchestra. Fireflies chased one another through the meadows. Frogs sang back and forth across the ponds.

Summer was here, and it seemed more full of life than spring had been. Young insects were taking their first steps in the world.

But despite the serene beauty laid out before him, Mist wasn't moved. He didn't care about the dazzling glow given out by the fireflies, or for the chirping crickets, or for the singing frogs. If the mantis could, they'd all be gone just like the humans would be soon.

And maybe that idea wasn't too far off, given the progress his wasps were making. Wasps. He didn't even care much for them, either. They were born to die, as far as he was concerned.

In short, Mist didn't care who he had to step on, so to speak, in order to reach the top of his goal. Who would care, really, if one insignificant little swallowtail vanished?

His eyes reflected this canvas of summer before him, but they reflected something else too. Impatience. Rage. Hostility.

A lone beetle walked past him. With a sudden movement, he snatched the insect up in his claws and drove his jaws into its skull. It let out one mournful squeak before fading away. Mist's gaze never left the fields, keeping an eye out for his troops.