Page 177 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

I look down at the bracelet I’ve just finished weaving, think about all the ways I’ve found a place in this village. Learning to read and write, fixing everyone’s clothes, making friends. I have done it all without her, and somehow it still hurts to think I didn’t need her in the end.

I don’t know if I can do it without you.

She’d looked right at me at that, and it was almost possible to believe she could see me clearly. Reaching behind her neck, she’d unclipped the locket she always wore, then reached out, fastening it around my neck.

Then bring me with you.

Those words. Spoken as the weight of the locket settled against my breast. The last words she spoke to me.

I’ll make the most of this. I’ll work hard. I’ll save up and bring you out to join me. I promise.

I feel the weight of the promise around my neck.

I know it’s not my fault. I know I had no choice.

That even if I made it to Alpha Colony, I probably wouldn’t have had a choice.

But does Mom know that? As she waits for a message that’s never going to come, does she know that I would never have abandoned her willingly?

That even trying to give up the guilt I feel about it feels like betraying her all over again.

I blink away more tears, then, quite suddenly, the sadness is pushed aside by that other, sharper feeling that’s been building inside me and I’m angry.

More than just angry. Furious. Furious at the cruel circumstances of our life back on bottom tier, furious that I was ever chosen in the lottery, furious that I never made it to Alpha Colony, furious that Alpha Colony was probably a lie, anyway.

Furious at Mercenia and the control they had over all of us, always.

It builds and builds inside me until every space is full and bright and so, so angry.

I want to scream, but no sound comes out.

An itch comes under my skin, my hut suddenly feeling too close, too small. It’s as if my emotions have filled it, zinging round the space, trying to find a way out. I set my things down and go to the door, throwing it open, tipping my head up to the sky, unleashing all the feelings out into it.

Overhead, the stars twinkle down, a million million of them. So many there are parts of the sky where there aren’t so much individual stars, but milky rivers of them. I think of my emotions as like fish, diving into those starry waters, swimming out into the universe.

A lightness fills my chest as the poison, the anger and the sorrow bleed out of me.

And as I come to the end of all my hurt and pain, I send a few words out there to go with them.

The same words I tried to give Endzoh earlier.

My lips form the shapes of them once more as I think them into the stars.

I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

And then it’s all gone. There’s a cavernous echo in my chest, and I feel small. Deflated.

Empty.

I close my eyes. Let the relief of it wash over me, even as I wonder what I’m supposed to do now it’s gone.

A wind stirs in the trees, the sound of rustling leaves accompanying the cool, tickling wind that winds between my legs, whispering through my hair.

The air feels full of potential, an energy in the atmosphere that’s more than just weather.

I can sense the trees around me, but not just their enormous trunks, the branches reaching up into the sky.

There are also the roots stretching down into the ground, tangled together beneath my feet.

Less a series of individual plants, and more one giant, interconnected network.

And living amongst it, not just me and the girls, our raskarran protectors.

Not just the other raskarran tribes, good and bad, but the birds, the cats, the insects - all those lives out in the trees.

Each of them shining in my mind like the stars overhead.

The forest its own constellation of light, me a tiny pinprick amongst it, but still part of it all the same.

In that moment, I believe in the raskarran’s forest goddess with every part of me.

And when I open my eyes, it’s the first thing I see.

A butterfly.

Or, at least, something like a butterfly. I’ve never seen one in real life, only the shadow puppets Mom used to make on the walls of our bottom tier apartment, the flickering candlelight making the shadows move in a way that granted them an uncanny impression of life.

This creature isn’t made of shadow though, but rather light. As it settles on the wall of the hut opposite me, it folds and unfolds its large white wings. A soft glow surrounds them, a luminescence coming from somewhere within it. It looks like it’s made of moonlight and magic.

My breath catches in my throat at the delicate beauty of it, and I step closer, keeping my feet as light as I can against the ground, my soft boots doing a lot of the work to keep me quiet.

The butterfly-creature shifts its wings again, casting a shadow against the side of a nearby hut so similar to the ones Mom used to make.

Then, abruptly, it takes to the air, wings flapping in a floppy kind of way that looks like it shouldn’t produce flight.

It darts from side to side, its movement reminiscent of the drunken raskarrans earlier.

I weave in between the huts as I follow it.

I’m curious, but there’s also a pull in my chest, as if there’s some kind of tether between me and the creature, my heart beating in time with its wings.

I don’t pay any attention to where I’m going, my focus entirely on the butterfly as I follow it.

Its wings grow stronger, its flight path straighter as it goes, as if it were newly born and only just learning how to fly.

Before long, there’s no uncertainty, no instability left in it, its movements sure and deliberate as it veers to the right, slowing down to alight on the hand Endzoh holds out towards it.

And I nearly laugh. Because of course it brought me here. To him.

The glow of the insect illuminates the craggy shape of his features, the delicate light softening him. His grey eyes shine like the moons, only brightening as he looks past the butterfly to spot me.

I smile as I creep closer, taking advantage of the butterfly’s stillness to get a better look at it.

Up close, I can see threads of silver weaving through the white wings like veins in marble.

It has a surprisingly fuzzy body, soft and downy, unlike the shiny hard outer shells of so many of the bugs I’ve seen since arriving here.

Two feather-like appendages protrude from its head, twitching about as if tasting the air.

I try to commit all the details to memory so I can draw it later.

When it launches upwards, I follow it, tilting my head back. Overhead, hundreds of its brothers and sisters fly through the sky, their own river of starlight as they pass over the village. I laugh with delight, wonder rushing in to fill the empty places my sadness and anger left behind.

Fingers close around mine, and Endzoh tugs me, pulling me in the direction the butterflies are going.

I grin, following after him without hesitation, even as he pulls me out into the forest. We dart between dark trunks of trees, leaping over fallen branches, breathless as we sprint, the light of the glowing insects illuminating our way.

I have no sense of time or how far we’ve travelled, the wonder of everything filling my head too much to allow space for anything besides the butterflies and the feeling of Endzoh’s hand in mine.

Then plants start growing up around us, getting thicker with every step we take, until we’re pushing through the large green leaves, moving them aside to break through.

The plants are taller than I am, stretching upward towards the moon, little strands of vine-like growths holding them to the trees and each other.

Sometimes they’re intertwined so much, it’s difficult to get through them and it breaks the spell of the moment long enough for me to wonder if this is wise, if this is safe.

Anything could jump out at us, and we wouldn’t see it coming, the foliage too thick, surrounding us in every direction.

But then, abruptly, we come to the edge of the plants, spilling out onto a rocky outcrop.

Before I even have a chance to get my bearings, Endzoh sweeps me up into his arms, bounding up the side of the rocks until we’re on top of them.

His arms are round me still as he sits me down, my feet dangling over the edge of the rocks. For a moment, I’m so caught up in his closeness, his scent, and the memory of his lips on mine, that I don’t notice what we’ve actually come here to see.

The butterflies. All of them pouring out of the sky down towards the plants.

They fly around, pairing off, then flying in tight little spirals together, before landing on the flowers of the plant.

Flowers I couldn’t see before, because they stretch up out of the body of the plant, white petals opening wide, turned towards the moon.

The whole area around us is aglow with the light of the butterflies as they conduct their mating dance.

I look up at Endzoh, my heart light with the sheer beauty and magic of it all, but he’s not watching them. He’s watching me, those soft grey eyes of his glowing with their own light. Pretty eyes. The only thing about him that could be said to be pretty.

He smiles and a new emotion surges in me, bright and clear and better than the sadness and pain.

Love. I love his craggy face. I love his tiny little smiles. I love him.

I remember the question I asked my mother all those years ago.

How will I know he’s the right one to give my heart to?

And there are so many answers to that question.

Because he makes me feel safe. Because he’s kind and gentle and understanding.

Because he took me to the cave with the flat wall so I could draw on it.

Because he held me when I cried and was grateful for the trust I placed in him.

Because his touches make my whole body light up with need.

Because I can’t imagine that there could ever be anyone else as wonderful as him.

But it’s Mom’s answer, as clear as if she were behind me, whispering in my ear.

Because he’ll give you butterflies.