Fairspell Meadow See and Wait

Louis' big ears, built to hear mice scuttle under snowbanks and the feet of little birds across pine needles, flick at the soft music of an unfamiliar voice. He tilts his head toward it, seeing no one at first, and then realizing as she continues her song that it's the butterfly twirling his way.

He's pretty sure a butterfly has never deigned to speak with him before.

Probably because he was always chasing them, before.

Tail wagging a little, he lifts a paw to look at it. "Would blue shoes really help me?" He supposes he could rub blueberries on them, though he's not sure how that will lessen his loneliness in the long run. Eating the blueberries, though. That might improve him. A little.