Once upon a time, Etwas and Rascal were resting by the waters of the Blá Lonið trying to choose a destination for their very long journey when the northern lights rose in the sky and were followed by frozen rain. The pair huddled under the shelter of a broken column of basalt and the butterfly slowly flapped its wings to draw in the heat from the geothermal lagoon.
"We could go north to Grimsey and shake hands with a Puffin," Etwas contemplated out loud but a sudden gale drowned her voice and Rascal just stared at her.
"We could also, I suppose, go see Finland. I hear there are a lot of Elves in the north." Falling ice clanked upon the stones all around Etwas' feet. Her words were lost in other pitter-patters.
"Want to go pan for gold in the Yukon?" Etwas directed the question at Rascal but so much snow was now blowing under the stone that her words were muffled and even she could hardly hear herself. She sat a moment enjoying the silence and Rascal did too. Then the butterfly danced a quick jig and pointed with his antennae.
"Ok," Etwas answered. "South it is."
And ever since then, Etwas defers to butterflies on matters of migration.
"We could go north to Grimsey and shake hands with a Puffin," Etwas contemplated out loud but a sudden gale drowned her voice and Rascal just stared at her.
"We could also, I suppose, go see Finland. I hear there are a lot of Elves in the north." Falling ice clanked upon the stones all around Etwas' feet. Her words were lost in other pitter-patters.
"Want to go pan for gold in the Yukon?" Etwas directed the question at Rascal but so much snow was now blowing under the stone that her words were muffled and even she could hardly hear herself. She sat a moment enjoying the silence and Rascal did too. Then the butterfly danced a quick jig and pointed with his antennae.
"Ok," Etwas answered. "South it is."
And ever since then, Etwas defers to butterflies on matters of migration.
Nevertheless, I still find it hard to believe ...
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