aAound and around

The steps of hundreds can be heard, and yet, I can no longer do it. My legs can't carry me for much longer.

”Shouldn't we stop for a rest?" My meager voice could barely be heard over the dust and heavy breath. The ones surrounding me are making the air shallow and thin. My companion, my friend, a few steps before me slows momentarily at my words. Surprise colored in dismay in his tired eyes. "We cannot afford to stop, not when there are so many signs that we are close." His feet already shift to continue, the dust picking up again between his worn feet.

He walks another step, and all I can do is cry after him, for truly, I am spent off strength in my hollow bones. "I can sense it too, my friend, yet we have walked for so long to no avail."

"We have no shelter to rest our feet upon, no food to return strength, only dry land. After we find the resources, we shall feed. Until then... we must continue, for the ones waiting at home."

I bite my dry tongue and look to the side, gazing upon my resting brothers on the side way. "For no longer can I continue, I shall rest with the others for a moment, no more, and meet you later."

"Do as you see fit. We don't have a true choice in the matter."

As I slow to a stop, my friend continues. With the blink of the eye, he blends with the others, all following the path written by steps. I sit next beside the tall trees, watching the long, long row of soldiers continue forward. Our squad had long lost its main source of food. I look to those who had been taken by hunger and thirst, being forced to rest upon the ground by weary legs; many of them wouldn't be able to stand back up again.

None of us said we are lost. I didn't say it either. It seems impossible, considering there's only one path forward, and beyond the path there is nothing. Darkness obscures any other path. And yet, I cannot help but have my suspicions.

Something is wrong; the group that was before us had left signs, so that means resources must be ahead. Many, many signs.

Too many signs. Every rock and blade of grass reeks of steps, and whichever way I look upon the visible path has a sickly strong scent of something. I can't name it, but it crawls under my skin in a very unpleasant way. Gazing blindly between the forest trees behind me, I can note weak trails that are cut too short, shallow foot steps that lead back or to nowhere at all. Looking more carefully, by chance I find a path that keeps going, leaving behind a small clearing far into the dark.

My comrades continue; an endless number of soldiers go farther, for no other path is available. Turning my heel on them, I go after the narrow path with the hope of finding something; anything that doesn't reek of sweat and rot that turns my stomach upside down. It's absolute darkness between the trees. The farther I go from the original path, the less I sense. Yet every corner I take, every step I find upon the grass is like a broken light, leading me deeper into a different way.

As the end of the steps comes into view, a small clearing can be found a little farther on the deluded path. The skies a sheet of clouds, of fresh breath slightly disordered of the same smell from before.Glancing back, I realized I no longer can see the path I came from, and panic grows within my heart. Has this been a mistake?

"Well, look at this. Another little ant has lost its way, hasn't it?" The voice of a man? Close but not quite, an heavy accent weighs his words down.

Something resembling the form of a man, without his legs, rests upon a broken log in the clearing, the footsteps leading towards him.

He calmly leans upon his hands with his head hanging low. The light shines from between the clouds upon the clearing he sits in, letting me view him somewhat clearly while I hide in the shadows.

Four long colorful robes rest along the sides of his waist and high back, looking as if having eyes hidden under the folds. Under them he wears a silky, worn-out sweater in the color of silver. The words grind against my tongue as I try to speak. Not a single drink or drop of water passed my lips in what could have been weeks. I put a foot forward as I take a deep breath, trying to regain my voice from shaking. "I assure you, sir, by no means am I lost. A path found my way, and so I followed it. I know what I look for, I am here by my own volition."

The man's voice is raspy and amused, yet at my short step to approach, he seems utterly weary. Moving his head uneasily, looking around, his robes rattle with him as he scanned the way I came from. "So you choose to lose your way? How fun.”

“That isn't what I said.”

“Then tell me, boy, where did you come from and what you seek— if you are indeed not lost I mean."

Silence followed. It takes me a moment to reconsider my position. To tell where I came from could risk my colleagues, I do not know the man's intentions. There is no need to reveal information without a compromise. "I own you none, why should I answer?"

"I know only a little more than you, and yet I find myself lost at words before you, little ant. For your own safety and mine, I am curious of your whereabouts considering... with what is happening near here with your kind."

"My kind? Elaborate."

The man's body language freezes as his face grows tense. His robes rattle like shivering, moving in a way similar to waking up. His head highers to the skies, silver gray eyes shining in the dim light as he looks to me with pity. "You are younger than I hoped. Never saw anything other than work around you, have you? I believe you deserve a proper introduction from me, at the very least."

His robes open as if the wind had blown through them, the light dancing colors of blue skies and wanders yellow upon gray silk. Black dot eyes adored every corner of his four wings, feeling as if staring me down from their high-up placement in the air. "I am what you may call a butterfly."

I stare at him awestruck and confused. Something is indeed familiar in the surname. "Butterfly? Another kind of man? Is that why you have no legs?"

The butterfly seems to chuckle, the absurdity of the situation appearing appealing to his eyes. "No, young one.” Said eyes drop, his voice forcefully continues a little broken. “The one beneath me has eaten my legs away while I have slept. Truly, what a cruel fate, for my bones had been of no value to the poor ant as it succumbed to hunger."

Confusion turns to fear in a breath. I watch the log with new dread, as a body like mine reforms from the shadows of what I thought to be a log underneath the butterfly. The patterns of legs and eyes, a face not far from mine staring into nothingness.I take a step back, and then another, and upon looking up at the butterfly face I no longer find merit. Anguish paints his face, drained and tired.

A cold shiver accompanies his voice as he growles, "So I repeat; where have you come from, young one, for me to know should I be hostile towards you or not. Believe me, I am not one for oblation."

The eyes upon his wings feel as if scaring up upon my flesh, pupils of pure black holding the weight of a predator. I doubt, I do not know what to do, but my fear drowns in my confusion as I slowly find my words.

"Sir, how come you sit upon a body? I do not know that man under you, my home is far from here!"

"Is it now? Your legs seem rather short. How long have you blindly walked?"

"It doesn't matter, I will return home once it's over."

“Over?” The butterfly’s wings violently swing as he laughs an empty sound full of spite. “Over is only in death for your kind. You must have been walking, not even caring about looking at what your feet sink into. Can't you recognize this smell? It's the rot of your friends."

My face unwillingly falls towards my feet, cut and broken; short things they have become.

The ground of rocks and mud is close to my heart. The ground of flesh and pieces of legs—no longer than mine—poke from the surface. Piles of eyes midway to rot between rocks, nails and teeth digging in and out of the ground.

The path that I had come from, it only shows more and more and more and-"I do not know them. I DO NOT KNOW THEM!" My voice cries before I can stop myself.

The butterfly looked down on me coldly all the same. "Their flesh is just like yours. Does it matter if you do not know? We are all friends in death's eyes."

"You make me sick! Sitting so casually upon what you know was alive!"

"Am I the sickening one? I am not the one responsible for their pain; it's the ignorance of yours all that has brought his end. You are here of your own volition, you know of it."

"I do not understand, what ignorance would have to do, to bring this?"

"Again I ask; where have you come from, where do you go?"

"The south I came from, what else then food could we seek? Now tell me why, do you know why only more grow hungrier by the day? Why do you fear me attempting to claw you from hunger?! The way was full of promising signs for something, anything!"

"You already know the signs were wrong; that's why you cut yourself out. There is no paradise in the path you have walked, no end to find."

"Nonsense!"

"Then why are you here!?” His composure, the act of it, falls apart. His wings flare violently, the air itself making me stumble backward into the shadows. The being before me seems suddenly far larger than he had moments ago. “Why do you hunger, why do you cry of pain? There's no end to your people marching. Do you really want me to prove this to you?"

I stop, my head spins, and no voice comes from my mouth but my shaken breath. Do I want to know? What if his words hold weight? I can no longer find strength in my voice, choking upon my own tears as I can't even find clean space to stand upon to rest my feet. "I- *sniff* Sir, I do not know... I am scared."

The butterfly immediately let his wing fall close. His mouth closes shut, stopping whatever he wanted to say next. After a bit of silence, he hesitantly lets the four of his last remaining arms open– and with concern painting his face– he beckons the ant to come closer."

I am sorry for overwhelming you, child, I am… simply enraged. Powerless before the pain that has come from ignorance. So much so that I take it out on you. I mean no harm, I just can't bear to see more of such foolish suffering, and yet suffering comes whether I want it to come or not. If you may, I will show you what you will never be able to see alone. I can't promise you more."

Trembling, I walk a step forward, and then another. Weakly grasping onto the open hands, I hold exhausted, as I am sure he will devour me whole– such a small, easy prey I have become. Yet all the butterfly does is embrace me back in an awkward attempt of a hug, our forms making it difficult.

His wings open in a swift motion, letting light in. They move with the wind up and down, up and down, until the wind picks us up slowly.Weightless, higher and higher we fly, the wind strikes and rain greets, only to dispute, as we come to see the forest in its full sight. And from below I can see it.T

housands upon ten of thousands of soldiers, all going in cycles again and again, forever bound by blindly following each other to no end. Again, around and around and around and-"How can I stop them?"

I didn't notice the question leaving my lips, barely more than a weak plea or a beg.Mister Butterfly stays silent for a moment, flying in circles above my family, my friends, and bitterness grows in his silver eyes.

"You can't."

At a distance not far, my home could be seen, a shell of its former self, looking bare of life; only a few were left at the end of the field.