Fairspell Meadow See and Wait

She doesn't speak like a wolf, and Louis isn't even really sure how much the butterfly understands. But she must, a little, because she's asking him about the emptiness now. It occurs to him to wonder how such a small thing could recognize sorrow.

He doesn't stop to ponder, though. Instead, he explores. "No. Not really. I'd hoped for something, but it wasn't mine to begin with."

You can't lose what you didn't have, right?

Yet it feels that way.

Louis shrugs, glancing briefly back toward the mountains where a pack of wolves live around a stone circle. "She found a place she belongs, where she wants to stay. And I kept moving. It's strange, isn't it? Things are the same as they've always been for me, but I feel different, now."

It's a deeply personal admission. Especially in the presence of a stranger. But there's no harm in being honest to a butterfly, he reasons.