Moth Larva

The caterpillar crawls along the branch and stops on a protruding twig, probing its surroundings with small circular movements. Look, Taru, it looks like it's standing at attention. My Alter Ego bends down to observe the banded larva, not the least bit impressed. I even sense silent rebukes budding at the edges of my mind and coming through in his grumpy behavior – because it's cold, because there's still a long road ahead, and because he's the only one keeping an eye on our surroundings while I spend my time contemplating crystalline leaves and the unreal beauty of the taiga. OK, message received loud and clear, buddy. I remind him that what I'm doing is not just a waste of time because part of our mission is to log anything interesting we see so that we can report it to the Expeditionary Corps. He raises his tentacles in response, as if saying, "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

I sigh in resignation… and with some irritation, to be honest. When he gets in one of his moods, I know it's no use trying to cheer him up. Looking more closely at the caterpillar, I see it weaving a little ball of Mana, as though the larva itself were secreting it. And as it does so, its physical body becomes translucent, almost transparent. Could it be starting its transformation into a chrysalis? I think again of Saskia and of everything she explained to me that day, including the life cycle of these Mana moths, from the larval state to their final form. As I learned about the unique characteristics of these little insects, I had wondered if the solution might be found not in magic alone but perhaps in biology. After listening to my story over a cup of tea – or several, actually – she had told me that she'd help me find a cure for my sister. And it felt good to finally share that with someone.

AKESHA

393 AC