“How did you resurrect me?” Shew asked.
“I heard Dame Gothel say she could bring your soul back within forty-two minutes with her snake,” Cerené said. “I thought I’d use my breath through the blowpipe and see if it worked.”
“Every breath you give is a breath taken from you,” Shew reminded her.
“Yes,” Cerené giggled. “I thought if I’m going to give my breath away, I’d give it to someone who deserved it, instead of butterflies and sea horses.”
“You gave me your life, Cerené,” Shew said. “Those breaths you gave will shorten your life severely.”
“Life comes and goes, Joy,” Cerené said. “Friendship stays,” she raised her blowpipe like a victorious leader to her troops. “Now go. I have to escape through the fireplace, too.”
Shew jumped out of the window and landed on her unicorn. She rode it away with tears in her eyes.
34
A Path of Butterflies
Shew rode away.
She galloped down the hills, heading back to the fields before the forest, looking for the butterfly she’d missed when talking to Cerené.
Hordes of horses and three-eyed unicorns were coming after her. Dame Gothel and the servants urged the locals of the kingdom to help them hunt down the princess. They persuaded them that Shew was a vampire on Night Sorrow’s side. Regretfully, Shew snarled at a couple of locals trying to block her way, making Dame Gothel’s lie believable. Shew had no time to prove otherwise. She had to find the butterfly.
The poppy fields spread wide in front of her. She rode her unicorn across the fields as the weather changed all of a sudden. The sky darkened slowly into purple-reddish patches and snow began to fall, burying the lovely poppy flowers with a thick layer of white. Her unicorn struggled in the snow and the dark but still kept on going.
What is happening to the weather?
The thought reminded Shew that she had been capable of controlling the weather to her liking in the Waking World. It was one of the Sorrow’s powers. She must have learned to control that power later after she’d split her heart because it was beyond her capabilities now. Carmilla had changed the weather, trying to slow the princess down.
The weather slowed the locals down, but not the huntsmen. They were getting closer.
Still looking for the butterfly, Shew opened the bag Cerené had given to her. A wicked smile crossed her face when she saw its content. The bag was full of chalk and dead Rapunzel plants. Shew knew what to do with them.
Finally, Shew saw the butterfly, fluttering her feeble fiery wings against the cold. She admired the butterfly’s courage in this stormy and darkened weather. It put a brief smile on her face. Shew stretched out her hand, hoping it would get the message and rest upon her palm, but the butterfly wasn’t there to take shelter in the warmth of her hand. She was there to show her the way.
Shew followed the butterfly into the Black Forest.
She began marking trees with chalk on her way. It was Cerené’s gift to her so she could find her way back if she needed, and also to have some kind of a map to get to the cottage in the future, in case Cerené couldn’t create guiding butterflies for her.
A little later, the butterfly stopped by a tree. It kept circling around a certain leaf buried in the white snow.
“What?” Shew asked, her heart beating fast as the distant voices of the huntsmen worried her. “What do you want from me? Just show me the way to the cottage.”
The butterfly continued circling, its wings getting heavier. Shew worried it would die. She knew butterflies were Cerené’s longest living creations, but they died eventually like everything else.
“You want me to pick up the leaf?” Shew reached for it, watching the butterfly land on the back of her hand.
“You want me to be gentle?” Shew said impatiently.
She moved her hand slowly over the leaf, brushing the thick snow away. Underneath it, there were seven caterpillars. Shew’s heart almost stopped. It reminded her of another suppressed memory of Angel Sorrow’s infatuation with butterflies. The King of Sorrow had kept caterpillars safe in his garden, taking care of them. He’d been fascinated by their life cycle, watching as their cocoons as the fought their way to a new life.
You have no time for this! That damn voice inside Shew’s head growled. Forget the butterflies and run for your life.
“I know what to do,” Shew told the butterfly, burying her inner thoughts in the same dark place in her mind they came from. She imagined what Cerené would have done if she were in her shoes.
“We’ve got seven soon-to-be-beautiful passengers on board,” she told her unicorn, wrapping the caterpillars in their own protective leaf and tucking them in a safe place in her dress.
The butterfly flew higher, swirling with gratitude then began leading the way to the cottage again.