AUTHOR'S NOTE

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Part 3

The butterflies didn't take her to the ends of the Earth; the journey seemed to be shorter than that.

The path was already getting familiar. Mirabel looked up at the golden butterfly with a genuine smile. Whatever good luck was happening to her, she was taking it all in with no hesitation. Or so she thought.

Turns out the girl was keeping her eyes on the butterflies a little too intensely. She no longer felt the ground beneath her. Gravity pushed her down a slippery slope into a ditch.

Her legs pushed against the mud and dirt, hoping to hoist her body back up. "Shit! No, no . . ." It was useless. The slope was too steep.

The fall had a soft landing. She shook the dirt out of her hair, then looked up to see the butterflies on the other side sitting there. Waiting.

"Haha, you can fly. So what?" She kicked dirt towards them. To her surprised, it actually reached the two. They fluttered around in hopes the dirt didn't damage their wings. After that they flew out of her view. "Wait, don't go!" she cried, suddenly not so tough anymore.

Mirabel looked at her surroundings. No rocks to stack and step on, no ropes to climb on, no people to help her. "Why is this happening to me?" she asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"That's a good question," a familiar voice stated. "I've met many accident prone people, but you? Ay, do I have to save you every two seconds, Mirabel?"

She still didn't know how that boy knew her name or always found her at a time of need. But it didn't matter much. She was too happy to see him. "Pedro!" Her lips curled into a big grin.

He took out her hand to pull her up. "How did you get yourself in this mess already within the five minutes I left?"

She hugged him unexpectedly. Pedro rolled his eyes and patted her back lovingly. Mirabel wasted no time to ask her burning questions, "Pedro, do you happen to be my- I mean, are you actually my- I know it seems impossible because in the picture you were older but it makes sense in my head since you know so much."

He blinked twice. "Sorry, what? I didn't quite get some of that. Any of that, actually."

Her shoulders slumped. "I'm trying to ask if you're my-!"

The ground shook. Tree branches snapped and peeled off of trees. The sides of the ditch began to cave in like digging back in a grave.

Pedro held the sides of Mirabel's arms. "Sorry, can we put a rain check on that question?"

He carried her on his back and shot up in the air like a water geyser. Mirabel sucked in a potential scream. Pedro didn't take her back to the ground right away since it was still shaking. Mirabel watched from above, amazed. They never had earthquakes in the village. Maybe she was far from home after all. Still, that couldn't be. Things looked familiar.

The two butterflies fluttered next to Pedro. One landed on her nose. Mirabel cringed at the feeling of the creature's tiny legs on her face. It stared at her.

"She looks just like her mother," it said, then it flew off of her nose.

The other one objected, "I said that earlier and you said she didn't."

The two butterflies began arguing. Arguing butterflies. That was a lot to take in. Mirabel wasn't even sure if butterflies made noises in the first place.

Her shaky finger pointed at them. "They spoke. You heard that, too? They spoke. The butterflies spoke. They can talk . . ."

"They're not supposed to." Pedro said between his clenched, aggravated teeth and rolled his eyes. "They were the spirits that were talking earlier."

"Spirits? You said you were talking to yourself!"

"I didn't want you to freak out."

Mirabel looked up at him. "Well, I am! You're flying, butterflies are talking, the ground is shaking, and there's spirits now apparently? Pedro," she rubbed her temples, "if you don't tell me what the hell is going on right now, I think I'm better off being lost forever."

He sighed, "I'll explain. I owe it to you. We just need to find a place that's not falling apart first."

He looked around. Trees were splitting, dirt was sliding, rocks were crumbling. He had never seen something so destructive in a while. Fortunately, it slowed and less things were tearing in half until it came to a complete stop. Pedro still held Mirabel, flying along with the butterflies across the forest. He wanted her to do more on her own; follow the butterflies the whole time. But emotions have other plans.

He grumbled, looking at the aftermath all over, "Pepa, why now?"

"Pepa?" Mirabel scoffed, "Pepa doesn't make earthquakes."

"When she's stressed enough, she can. She must be extremely worried about something."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Mirabel whispered to herself.

The butterflies floated down to an empty, grassy spot. Some branches managed to make it there but for the most part, it was fine. Pedro set Mirabel on her feet. He could hear her breathing. It was obvious she was panicking. He appreciated that she was trying to keep it together. She deserved to know everything.

"Mirabel," he began, "I'm dead."

Her shoulders tensed. "That's, uh, an interesting way to start things. But once you said spirits I kinda already figured that out."

He rubbed his arm. "I don't know if Alma- Er, your grandmother ever talked about me but-"

Mirabel hugged him tightly. "You're Abuelo Pedro, aren't you?"

He hugged her back and smiled. So she did speak about him. That made him the happiest. "Yes! Yes. I am."

She released and looked at him. "You don't really look like the picture in our house."

"I can change my form to reverse my age. I figured you'd feel better seeing someone your age helping you out than a grown man."

Mirabel nodded, not noticing the butterflies planted in her hair. There were many, more than ten. "Thank you so much, Abuelo. I don't know what I'd do without your help." She sniffled, feeling the tears coming. "Wait until Abuela hears this."

"You can't!" he quickly denied. "I'm only allowed to talk to one person a century."

"C-Century?" she questioned.

"Yes. It's hard to explain. But I know if you told her you found your way back home from her deceased husband, I doubt she'd believe you without seeing it for herself. And as much as I would love to- as much as it would satisfy me- I can't see her. I can't see her alive at least."

Mirabel's bottom lip quivered. "So you took the one chance of speaking to her to help . . . me?"

He silently nodded yes.

"Why?"

"You have your whole life ahead of you. I couldn't let you go like that. You have an important role in the family, Mirabel. Like I said, you'll see. Time will tell. Now please get back home before Pepa has another earthquake." He wiped the smiling girl's tears with his thumbs.

She replied with "Okay," in a soft voice. She began to walk off, but came back. "One more hug," she told him, embracing what's left before his essence floated away and he became the dirt of the Earth once again.

"Pedro . . ." she cried softly. "I will make you proud."

"That's sweet and all," a butterfly said, "but we want to go home, too."

Another agreed, "I hate this butterfly form. All these legs are confusing to operate."

Mirabel shrieked, causing all of the butterflies to flee from her head. "Why are there so many of you?"

"You had problems with following two butterflies, figured you needed more."

"I fell in a ditch." She facepalmed. "You're acting like that's my fault."

"Kinda is," one said.

Her hands rested on her hips. "For dead people, you guys are full of attitude."

One led the way, the others followed including Mirabel. Through the trees, over big rocks, until met with a beautiful pond with tropical flowers and lily pads. She knew where she was now. Just beyond this point was her village. Her Casita. Her family. Her Encanto.

Mirabel sighed with a smile. That sigh released the burdens off her shoulders. She felt as light as a feather. As light as the butterflies that disappeared back into the spirit world.

Things weren't peaceful or quiet, though. She heard crying. Mirabel looked around to the direction of home. There stood a boy on the other side of the pond, weeping. His curls hung over his face. Behind him stood a leopard. The animal was so close to him. Crouching, ready to pounce.

Mirabel ran through the water. It splashed all over herself and the flowers as she screamed, "Antonio, look out!"

To answer alphared45667 question, Pedro is the name of Mirabel's late (dead) grandfather.