Unnamed

Insert Name Here
Butterfly Child || Meadow Singer || Lost one
"I wander through the meadows without a care, knowing someone will someday find me there."

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Wasteland Pauper Insect Every year, vast numbers of this butterfly migrate across the plains. It is called the blue harvest. 25 3 White Cabbage Butterfly Insect Caution: Excessive consumption of this butterfly may cause cabbage farts. Think of your den mates. 25 3 Meal Moth Insect The gritty texture of the Meal Moth can leave a bad taste in the mouths of some dragons. 25 3 Fallout Whisper Insect These moths fly erratically around the sites of Arcanist's experiments. They make your tongue glow when eaten. 41 4

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Walking up to a meadow, it isn't strange to see butterflies flitting through the gently blowing grasses. Their delicate bodies dip up and down, fliers who seem to glow with grace. This is what has enamored many with them, that and their silence. Unlike songbirds who sing pretty lullabies to those who choose to befriend them, butterflies will never say a word. They show their affection through their presence, choosing to stay close or remain near things that they trust. A butterfly dragon is no different.

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It was a quiet day in the woods. A softness of white blanketed the area, coating the trees in thin layers of glitter. A small clan resided in the icy home, one of fae dragons and their crystalline nests. They found the trees surrounding produced healthy amounts of amber, and could easily tolerate the cold for a few months. Then the shining layer of white would melt, leaving behind flowers and crunchy bugs to munch on. During winter they only had what was stored in their nests, which became unfortunately dry and crumbly. It left a taste of dust behind in their mouths, a nasty one that stayed even if they drank lots of water.

It was on a cold day near the end of winter when a cry came forward from one of the nesting sites.

"A baby is missing!" Came the call from a female fae, one who had been given the task to check over the eggs. Confusion spread through the little group as they realized what was being said, their voices of concerned words drifting back and forth in the amber. They all traveled to the nesting den, to see if what was said held some truth. Unfortunately, the terrible reality of it was that the egg had been lost. They did not know where it could have gone, since there were no markings in the snow and certainly no beastclan member had been here. They were much too large to have left no trace behind. A search party was assembled, the stronger male faes were sent out with furs and warm coats to keep them from getting chilled wings. They branched off into different groups, pairs to cover more territory in the search of the missing egg.

It didn't take long before they found traces of eggshells littering the ground. Their icy blue color stood in striking contrast to the gentle whites and greens of the winter's end. Holding more concern now, the faes nervously fanned their frills. They called a regroup to follow the trail of eggshells, worried that the baby might not be alive when they found it. The eggshells led them into a small clearing, it had no trees covering it and as such the ground was free from snow. Tiny claw prints could be seen around the entire area, little grooves in the moist ground. The fae search party relaxed, seeing the little one they were searching for had hatched on her own and traveled her herself. She was chasing around a butterfly, one of the first of the season. Her affinity for the creatures would remain throughout her life, forever painted across her wings.