Just as Ara turned to face me, thousands of butterflies released from the trees and she froze. Her eyes followed as they fluttered about, blurring the forest in a brilliance of orange, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her. Her face lit with awe, and she gasped as a butterfly landed on her cheek, slowly opening and closing its wings. She brought her gaze to me, smiling faintly, then returned her eyes to the butterfly as it fluttered away. The sight sucked the breath from my chest, and I took a half step back, needing something. Space. Air. Anything. Thirty-nine years. Thirty-nine years of
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