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Why Butterflies Migrate

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The brisk surrenders of summer have finally come to open the path, of what was soon to curse the lands. The cold waves of winter came and not a single animal was prepared for its brutality. Water had frozen in fear, while the leaves became no more. Soft breaths of those still living had been uncovered in a white fog. Our young adventurer, Hernasius, had awakened from his deep slumber. And from his mighty abode, his emotions became unkempt upon sight of the cold discord.

“Egad! What has become of this forgotten land?” He cried aloud.

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But, unfortunately, not one man nor one thing, could hear his struggled outcry. Hernasius wandered, soon pacing back and forth, pondering his next course of action. He needed to figure out how to ward off the cold, for there were no hides of warmth; ward off the hunger, for there was no meat to eat; ward off the loneliness, for there was nothing to keep him entertained. There was nothing left for the young and tired Hernasius.

Hernasius became hysterical, weeping and shouting to the heavens above. To no avail, his desperation rewarded him with frustration and eventual exhaustion. The young Hernasius passed out cold and began to sleep on the chilled, unforgiving, mounds of dirt. The temperatures continued to fall and hold a heavy weight on the soft face of Hernasius.

A soft-spoken voice had pierced the drum of Hernasius, waking him from his unexpected slumber. Though the voice had disturbed a great state of sleep, its abruptness, deemed necessary, as the other choice was surely death. But instead of gratitude, Hernasius roared in disbelief.

The soft voice became more audible as Hernasius became less unsteady. The voice said,

“Hern-Hernasius!” Hernasius blinked rapidly and rubbed his eyes. He then shook his head to “awaken” from this daze.

“Do not fret young Hernasius, I am real. Or rather this voice is. I mean, I am real. But like this voice is being carried out through, never mind you wouldn’t understand.” The voice said obscurely.

Hernasius is still confused.

“Okay, listen. My name is Monarch, and with my voice, I will bring you to a path most warm. Do you like warmth, Hernasius?” Monarch asked.

Hernasius nodded.

“Most excellent! Then you will do as I say and embark on a rather marvelous journey! But do understand, difficulty lies ahead and death, possible.” Monarch said with excitement.

Hernasius quivers and is with death-striking fear.

Monarch continues to both dazzle and frightens Hernasius until their exchange comes to a natural end. Hernasius, now filled with determination, embarks on an expedition to bring warmth back to the lands and ultimately himself.

Hernasius follows the carefully coordinated steps, that were planned out by Monarch, finding himself amidst a volcanic pit. Peering inside, Hernasius finds what looks to be a mountainous butterfly. He is discouraged, panting in disbelief. Though not typically afraid of butterflies, Hernasius takes note that the size magnifies the features of the once harmless creature.

The thorax was large, grayish-black, and pulsating. The legs were long, sharp, and menacing. And the black and orange wings, they were fluttering with immense power. Such a power was able to produce gusts, that stormed loudly through the pit of the volcano.

Hernasius swallowed his fear and leaped into the volcano, holding reins in his hands. His body fell victim to the overpowering gust, and his body began to flutter up and down, practically floating in the air. He chose to angle his body perpendicular to the thorax of the magnificent beast and ultimately collided amongst the rigid and coarse gray flesh.

The behemoth began to buck violently in the air, and the young Hernasius held on for dear life. He then pulled the reins with all his might and cracked the neck of the giant butterfly. The butterfly gave out a mighty clamor and seized all barbaric acts. The once mighty butterfly had now fallen victim to the might of the young Hernasius, becoming domesticated. Hernasius, having conquered the butterfly, flew back to his lands as the new emperor of butterflies. Many small butterflies followed the new king, as they were accustomed to following the alpha-butterfly every which way it went before. And with the strong gusts of the butterflies across the lands, the sun blew over across the plains, bringing warmth once again.

And to this day, the sight of butterflies marks the warm tides of summer and spring.


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