Warren screws up his face, pushing his mind out until he feels the brush of butterfly scent.
It’s a male, one of Tobias’ holly blues. He’s old now, Warren can tell, with only a few days left. He hasn’t mated yet. This is really important. Warren feels the butterfly’s sadness, his fear and grief. He will die soon and he hasn’t mated.
It’s awful. Warren’s surprised something so small can feel so much pain. The butterfly has no words, of course, but Warren’s mind does and all that roiling fear settles in his brain under one word.
Failure.
I’ve failed, the butterfly says. I’ll be erased.
Warren’s heart contracts like it’s taken a punch. He gasps with sudden pain.
Everything’s been so weird for the last two weeks and it feels like there’s chaos around him, all this running about and every
