Butterfly Effect

     Lisha dug through her backpack of books—twice the size of her clothing bag—while Jeran lowered himself into a rocking chair.

     “What’re you looking for in there?” Jeran asked with vague interest, leaning back and taking in the clear, blue sky.

     She removed a large, leather-bound tome that read “Fauna of the Meridellian Hills” and held it up with a grin. Hand-drawn illustrations of mammals, birds, and reptiles filled the cover. “This one. One of my favourite field guides.”

     Jeran glanced down at the title for a moment and nestled in again. Meanwhile, his sister leafed through colourful illustrations of local Petpets and their behaviour, humming as she did. Eventually, she found herself in the butterfly section. Detailed maps of their habitat and location filled each page along with sketches of each species. Her brow furrowed as she read aloud about habitat this or host plant that. After a few minutes of hearing her jargon-filled mumbles, Jeran stifled a yawn, debating if now would be a good time for a nap.

     Although he tried to be supportive of her scholarly pursuits, Jeran’s interests rarely strayed beyond weapons, battle, or exercise. Lisha would listen with rapt attention to his discussions about sword techniques for the latter part of the day, eagerly taking notes on everything he said. Sometimes, she would even doodle pictures of his dramatic demonstrations. But when she brought up biology, he would politely listen for a few minutes before his mind drifted elsewhere.

     Kayla, Lisha’s potion master friend, joked that Jeran took daily trips to “Planet Meathead,” a notion that had the two ladies howling with laughter. They decided that a few of their others, mainly Serian and Rohane, would be the Meathead Mayors. And to the Zafara’s credit, she kept the joke between the two of them. Even better that she kept the recent saga with Rohane a tight-lipped secret—if word got out, it would be an entire novel’s worth of drama for the lot of them.

     “Hmm, take a look here.” Lisha flipped the book over and tapped on an illustration of a small, purple butterfly. It had three black spots on its hindwing, a black abdomen with five horn-like protrusions running along its body, and bright red eyes. “It’s called the Darigani Three-spot.”

     “Darigani?” His ears perked up for the first time since Lisha began sharing what he called her “nerdy nature stuff.” Darigani was the word used by Darigan Citadel residents to describe their nationality, or sometimes a style of clothing or architecture. He sat up, arched his stiff back forward, and turned to meet his sister’s bookish gaze, immediately noticing her wry grin. She had a smugness to her that few noticed; she hid it very well. As a brother, he knew it better than most. “But why would a—”

     “Yeah, that’s the thing,” she said, anticipating his train of thought. “The first Neopian to describe them lived in the Citadel. They’re native to there.”

     “Native to there?” The cogs within Jeran’s brain seemed to be turning, pushing against his sleepiness. “Did it come over here recently, then?”

     “Yup.” Sensing her brother’s growing interest, Lisha waved him over. “Here, lemme show you something.”

      He let out a soft sigh, debating then and there whether her enthusiasm superseded his urge to slide back into the soft, welcoming pillow. When she let out an impatient groan, he stood up slowly. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbled, the crackle and pops of his knees and back acting in unified protest.

     By the time he made it over, Lisha was hunched beside a light purple, daisy-like flower with a long green stem and star-shaped leaves, examining it with a magnifying glass. The book sat by her side; a page opened to a drawing that looked nearly identical to her subject. With a hardy tug, Lisha ripped one of the plants out of the ground, nearly stumbling in the process. The plant had a purple root the size of a dagger and based on the yelp that Lisha made, the sharpness of one as well. “This is a blade daisy,” she said, massaging her thumb. “It’s a common flower in the Citadel.”

     Jeran tilted his head to the side. “Think it was purposely planted here during the wars?”

     His sister shook her head. “I doubt it.”

     “How do you know?” Brow furrowing, he continued. “It could have been a tactic to change our landscape, to damage our soil or harm our crops. War is fought beyond the battlefield, after all.”

     Lisha hummed out loud, considering what he said while investigating the plant further. “Seeds have a habit of dispersing on the backs of wild Petpets or the wind. And this one…” she poked the centre of the flower and a poof of yellow exploded from the centre, “seems wind-pollinated. Plants like these could be moved by accident, through trade. Notice how it is growing most abundantly by the road here.”

     He spared a glance around them. “I see that. It makes sense, but the idea of it makes me uneasy.” He sighed. “I guess not everything has to be an effect of war—we’ve been at peace for a while now, thank Skarl.”

     Thank Skarl indeed. And thanks to the light faerie who saved his life. Lisha could not help but smile sadly as she focused her mind on something other than the war. “You can tell it apart from similar species by its opposite leaves, purple stem, long tap root…”

     She continued for another minute, listing off the plant’s attributes in detail. Meanwhile, Jeran’s eyes glazed over as he mindlessly tapped his tunic. It took until Lisha waved a paw in front of his face for him to snap back into reality.

     “I was listening!” Jeran said, looking for some sort of passage in the book to back his bluff. “Its leaves sure are … sharp. Erm, speaking of, you might want a little bandage for your finger.”

     “Yeah.” She quirked a brow before shaking her head with a huff, clearly frustrated. “They sure are sharp, Jeran.”

     He rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” was all he said.

     She opened the book back to almost the exact same page with a frown. “I will.”

     Within no time, he cosied himself in the swinging chair on the porch. Or tried to, anyway. After a few moments of sitting still, his knee began to bounce. Apparently, even a small amount of exercise had the knight itching for more.

     It didn’t take long for Lisha to gather up a whole bouquet of Blade Daisy (after the first run-in, she cast a protection spell on her hands) and beneath its leaves… were little translucent orbs, perhaps the size of a millet grain. Caterpillar eggs. She continued to read on between counting eggs with the help of her glass lens. Once she could recognize the flower, it seemed to appear everywhere. The picnic grounds. Alongside the cabin. Clumps of Blade Daisies dotted the landscape well into the distance. Sure, most of them grew along the road, but wind-pollinated plants had a habit of moving… and efficiently, at that.

     Now that she thought about it…

      When trade increased, so did the spread of new species between the two cities. Merchants and scholars lauded the opportunity to sell and study “exotic” flora in new markets, and indeed, many a noble boasted a rare plant or two from the Citadel. A few even created specialized greenhouses to display their new prizes year-round. But some plants had become thorns in the sides of farmers and tradesmen alike. According to the book, this blade daisy and its associated butterfly were among them. Some farmers nicknamed it “Darigan’s Revenge,” using its unceremonious invasion as even more reason to shake their fists at the airborne city.

     She plucked a Blade Daisy flower and folded it into an envelope for her journal before calling Jeran over once again. He had since changed from his vacation wear into light armour, stubbornly insisting on carrying a sword at his waist. When she gave him a bemused look, he shrugged. “Seemed like a good time to practice again.”

     “On vacation?”

     He patted the base of the pommel. “Given my track record, you never know.”

     Lisha wanted to refute it, but practically the only one with worse luck was Rohane… the Blumaroo’s string of misfortune gained infamy almost as quickly as his international fame.

     Just then, a purple and black butterfly flit right in front of the Lupe’s face; Jeran watched it meander, dipping and diving around the field of flowers before landing squarely on a blade daisy. Its feet danced around the disc florets as if showing off a jig. When its wings opened, Jeran’s eyes lit up with surprise, even more so when it fluttered from its perch and landed squarely on his nose.

     He stood as rigid as a board while the little creature crawled onto his moustache, tickling him as it went. It took every ounce of discipline for him not to sneeze. Seeing this, Lisha laughed with delight.

     “I think it likes you, Jeran.”

     Eyes crossing towards the butterfly, he watched it crawl closer and closer to his mouth before it finally set off in search of food.

     “That…” Jeran let out a loud exhale, then wiggled his nose, “was more up close and personal with nature than I’m used to. Kind of weird that it landed on me, though. Why in Skarl’s name—.”

     “Probably the sweat on your face from being out in the sun. Kind of surprised it didn’t poke around with its proboscis.” Lisha said it matter-of-factly, watching swarms of question marks fly over her brother’s head like so many Springabees to a flower.

     Jeran blinked; his mouth stood wide open. “Pro-boss-catch?”

     “The thing they use to feed—it’s basically a straw.”

     “And it tried to eat my sweat?” he gave his underarm a whiff and crinkled his snout. “Nature is weird.”

     She nodded, happy to see him interested.

     He tapped his chin. “Sooo… think this is one of those Spot-faced Darconi—”

     “Darigani Three-spot,” she corrected, “although there is a similar sounding Spotted Darginian Clearwing out there as well. Similar host flower and everything.”

     Crossing his arms, he nodded three times. His bottom canine tooth stuck out as he smirked. “Alrighty, nerd.”

     “Proud nerd!” Puffing up her chest and standing straight, she almost stood to Jeran’s shoulders. Standing on her tippy toes, she strained to look taller. Jeran did the same, and with his extra-large feet, looked even taller than before. He couldn’t help but utter a laugh. “Why do you have to be so big, Jeran?”

     “Lucky genes?”

     “I guess. But at least I,” She tapped her forehead twice, “got the smarts.”

     “Hmph.” He slung a small pack around his shoulders with food and water. “Thanks,<[i>Lady Nerd.”

     “Always, Sir Borodere”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“Meathead of Meridell.”

     “Wait.” He spun to face her, glowering as he did. “What was that last part?”

     “Noooothing!” She sang offkey.

     He gave her hair a quick tussle. “You goof.”

     “Well, I am your little sister, after all.” She winked, wishing that she could return the favour. “No matter how old I get, that’ll always be the case.”

     “And I… am your big brother.” His voice became soft, something he reserved only for when the two of them were alone. “Now and always.” After offering a half-hug that she gladly accepted, he added, “I’m thinking of taking a short hike, work up some more sweat—for the butterflies and all. You in?”

     Her ears quivered with joy as she grinned broadly. “Heck yes, I am.”

      It didn’t take long for her to run back into the cabin to grab her supplies, wand and all. “Fauna of the Meridellian Hills” poked out the top of her bag for easy retrieval.

     The two of them set off into the wooded wilds as bird Petpet song filled the air. Lisha couldn’t help but notice how normal it all seemed. She turned back towards their campsite from atop the hill that they had climbed.

     In the distance, the Citadel drifted on like a hot air balloon. Lisha let out a long exhale. Earlier in her life, such a sight would have filled her with dread. Now… it was just a part of the landscape. Little more than background noise amidst the natural beauty surrounding them.

     Lisha picked up a fallen maple leaf and twirled its stem while taking note of nearby shrubs, mushrooms, and scuttling Petpets. It was nice to have time to think about something other than war, the size of the next ration, and whether her brother would return from a campaign alive. For a while after the war ended, worry lingered in her mind like a miasma. Even after the healers promised Jeran would recover, she sat by his bedside each night, silently reading while he rested—sleep that he only managed thanks to the strongest serums in the castle. Kayla proved instrumental in helping Lisha find something else to keep her mind at bay, something to keep the anxious thoughts of Jeran’s near brush with death from consuming her.

     Serian kept his distance, occasionally offering a glass of water or a meal that he had brought from the mess hall. Part of her wanted to hate him back then, wanted to blame him for what happened to Jeran, but then again… he stood against Lord Kass and tried to warn her brother of the Citadel’s counterattack knowing it would put him in mortal danger. He was a victim, too. And lest she forget that he could have perished as well.

     Things had gotten better since then. Trade improved considerably, a boon for many, even with some problem plant and Petpet species. Serian had a good relationship with all of them now, despite his occasional snark and bristly exterior. The Tri-National Patrol seemed efficient at aiding international issues with a deft, fair hand, and...

     So consumed with her thought spiral that she walked straight into Jeran’s back.

     That armour had a bad habit of sandwiching an ear or two. This time, it was both ear stalks. She bit back a curse.

     “That didn’t sound good.” Jeran stopped in his tracks. “You okay?” When Lisha didn’t immediately answer, he pulled out a small potion from his pouch. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Kayla figured we might run into some trouble, so she insisted that I take a bunch.”

     Lisha couldn’t help but laugh before she downed the grape-flavoured goodness. Good ol’ Kayla, she knew them well. Within a few moments, all traces of soreness disappeared.

      The two of them continued until they arrived upon a cliffside. Below, a wooded valley covered the area, bisected by a meandering river. Lisha couldn’t help but take in the view, committing it to memory. But unlike his spellbound sister, Jeran’s gaze had turned… downwards. And what caught his eye?

     Two beetles, each the size of a fist, with long, sword-shaped horns. One of them propped up on its hind legs as if to appear taller, prompting the other to do the same.

     “Are they having a duel?”

     Lisha paused for a moment, a look of bewilderment on her face before she turned to see her brother crouched down and leaning forward.

     Her scientific brain resisted the urge to say that they were having a territorial dispute over habitat. They would have sent Jeran to snooze-ville faster than you could swing a sword.

     Instead, she said, “Yeah. Looks like they’re sizing each other up.”

      Jeran rubbed his chin as if pondering something deep. Could he have learned something from all her scientific musings?

     “Who’d you think will win?”

     Well. At least he was interested.

     “Win?” It took a few seconds for Lisha to hold back from an infodump. Instead, she said, “it’s anyone’s guess, really.”

     “That one looks bigger.” Jeran watched it sway from side to side and make clicking noises with its wings that its opponent matched. “I’d put my money down on that one—he’s the clear winner here.”

     As soon as he said this, the beetles charged one another. Their horns clashed like two swords, pushing against one another. For over a minute, neither gave an inch. Since the match began, Jeran removed a bag of his snacks from his pack and shovelled it mindlessly into his mouth. Crumbs spilt to the ground, catching the attention of nearby ants.

     The smaller beetle dug into the ground, its little legs giving way, as lines formed in the dirt from their struggle.

     “I think this is the end,” quipped Jeran. “Good try, little dude—”

     Charging forward, the smaller beetle knocked its opponent off balance, sending it tumbling back. Jeran gasped. When the larger bug tried to stand, it was met with the blade-like horn of the other.

     “Sometimes strength isn’t all that matters.” Lisha grinned broadly while her brother watched the dejected loser scuttle into the brush. “Sometimes, it’s strategy and grit.”

     “But the big one had the size advantage!”

     “So do you against Rohane, but he usually beats—ahh, I mean—hey!”

     Jeran tapped a fist on his sister’s head. “Says who?”

     When the two of them hung out, Lisha found her inner child. She stuck out her tongue, knowing full well he’d reciprocate in a second. And he did. Such was the luxury of having no other Neopians to place expectations of knighthood or responsibility on their shoulders.

     Lisha broke first, finding herself laughing harder than she had in a while, and with it, Jeran did the same. Sometimes you could swear he had the world upon his shoulders—it was his to see his face relaxed and at ease.

     “Did you bring that book? The one with the bugs in it.” When he saw his sister’s mischievous smile, he added a hasty, “Not that I’m interested in all of them, just the sword bug. The one’s kind of cool.”

      Halfway through Jeran’s inkling of curiosity, Lisha ploughed through her bookbag (which had as many books as provisions) and flipped through the pages of “Fauna of the Meridellian Hills” until she saw something that looked similar. The moment she read the name, she scoffed. “Looks like you were on to something, big bro.” She handed him the book and his eyes darted right to one of his favourite meathead words.

     “Duel Beetle.” He scoffed. “This thing is called a duel beetle?”

     “Fitting name, eh?”

     “Right, then.” He nodded in approval, noting that the beetle stood in the same place where it had won its hard-earned victory, waving its horn in a figure eight. “I like this bug, it’s got brawn.” He began to scan the page, humming with interest. “I wonder what else it can do…”

     Meanwhile, Lisha made a salute to the beetle. “Thanks, friend.” And although it couldn’t be—such advanced thought would be an impossibility for a creature so primitive—it almost looked like it saluted back.

     When Jeran finished reading the entry, he closed the book, clearly satisfied with himself. “Think we could look for more Duel Beetles when we get back?”

     Before she could answer, a Darigani Three-spot flit beside them, twirling effortlessly in the breeze. The sight of it made her heart flutter. She lifted a finger to the sky and the butterfly landed upon it, opening and closing its wings as if pondering whether this Aisha was a yellow flower.

     As it took off into the cloudless sky, she felt the winds change direction—a gentle tug towards the top of the mountain.

     “It would be my honour, Jeran.”

     The End.