Alpine Lake I don't wanna row, row, row the boat

mira was still contendedly gnawing at the nearly-bare bone, when a tiny noise caused her black ears to perk up, swiveling for a source. 

a stranger's back is all i see 

her head turned to glance on either side, and then behind her, but no one was whispering in her ear. her brows furrowed with confusion, frusturated with the feeling that she might be going crazy. 

it was then that she noticed an orange fluttering smudge of color in the air. a butterfly. mira tilted her head, expression blank but not unkind. is that you? she wondered aloud. her voice was a tad raspy from disuse, and she cleared her throat. you, butterfly?