A/N: written for mogadeer on tumblr. Butterfly belongs to she and I.
Windswept
A very sudden gust of wind catches her completely off guard, and the butterfly is sent tumbling backward through the air. Though the sky had been darkening with storm clouds, she hadn't expected the weather to change quite so suddenly. Bracing herself against the wind proves to be in vain, and the breeze carries her roughly backward. She's almost certain she's going to crash into a tree or some sort of bramble, and she prepares for the inevitable impact as much as possible.
She does collide with something, though it's much softer than the trunk of a tree, and the hands that catch her are kinder than the ragged limbs of any thorny bush. She steadies herself on her knees, only to have the wind knock her back again, up against the warmth she had crashed into. She tips her head back, and gazes upside down at her would-be savior. Whatever she had expected, it certainly hadn't been this stranger.
"Oh, are you alright?" he asks, and cups one hand in front of her, blocking the wind.
The butterfly turns herself around now that the wind isn't keeping her pressed up against this person's chest. Instead, she presses her back to his hand, getting a better and proper look at his face now that she can. She knows that he won't understand her, and so she just gives him a little nod, and a tentative smile.
"That's good!" Snufkin says, a little smile of his own tugging at his lips. "You're lucky I caught you when I did. A little thing like you could have been really hurt in a gale like this."
Butterfly gives another little nod, hugging herself as the wind slips through his fingers, brushing roughly against her back and wings.
"Let's get you out of this mess," Snufkin says while carefully cupping both hands around her and bringing her close to his chest again. There's more than enough room for her to move, but she decides to stay close to him. He's warm, and the comparative thunder of his heart is a more welcomed sound than the howling of the wind.
It doesn't take him long to get where he wants to go. Though she can't see, she can tell he drops down to his knees, and one hand leaves her so he can shuffle forward on his knees. The wind is still howling, but less so, and there's a definite warmth about them suddenly. And when he moves his hand - and her - away from his chest, Butterfly can see that they're inside a tent. She assumes it's his; it smells like him, which is a strange thing to notice, all things considered.
"There we go," he says, and sets her down carefully on the top of his backpack. The bag is propped up against the side of the tent, securely standing. "It's not much, but you're welcome to stay until this weather takes a better turn."
Butterfly settles down into a more comfortable sit, a little shiver rushing up her spine as the warmth really settles back into her. She gives a nod, and he can't really help the small, shy smile that sneaks across her lips.
Snufkin smiles back.
Though the rain never comes, the afternoon is still dark and dreary. When evening comes, the weather is no better.
"I guess you'll be staying the night, huh, little lady?" he asks. The question makes Butterfly look just a little panicked, but she settles into a comfortable shyness again when he chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. "I don't mind," he assures her.
He produces his harmonica from one of his pockets, and begins to quietly play. The tune is nothing she recognizes, but it's slow and pleasant, and it doesn't take long at all for it to lull her to sleep.
When morning comes, Snufkin wakes to find the butterfly gone, but a small bunch of daisies and cosmos are tucked into the brim and folds of his hat.