“Butterfly…?”
A furry face poked around the trunk of a tree, black eyes wide, pink nose quivering. Sneak, as he was called, had been sent out to find Butterfly, their medicine man, so he could come back and help with a feverish child.
Fluffy tail twitching, Sneak scampered forward, wet nose sniffling. He could smell the iron scent of blood that always accompanied their medicine man. Mixed with the odor was the honey-like smell of Roma, his snapdragon. She was blooming.
He stood on his back two legs, brought his claws up to cup his mouth, and yelled, “Butterfly?”
Once again, no response.
Squawking angrily under his breath, Sneak kicked at a stick before squeaking as a frog jumped away from under it. He hated frogs, no, loathed-
Suddenly, a streak of green snapped out, and the frog disappeared down the gullet of a familiar golden-streaked plant. Sneak stared at the golden snapdragon before asking, “Roma?”
Roma, Butterfly’s snapdragon, had blended in with the tangled mess of vines and roots at the base of the white oak that Sneak now stood before. She weaved forward, growling and snapping at Sneak, and clacked her jaws down on the large stick that he had kicked. Dragging it back, she curled around it protectively, thrumming angrily.
Sneak groaned. Roma was very protective of Butterfly’s possessions; no doubt that this was his staff.
Roma snuggled around her branch before wheezing at Sneak, tail twitching. She was unhappy that he had touched her branch. Only her master could touch it…
“Hello, Roma… Where’s Butterfly? Do you know?” Sneak stepped closer, tail curling in uncertainty.
Roma cocked her head to the side, the little orange squares darkening slightly before she snapped at him, deciding to try her luck. Sneak jumped back, fur rising on end, and hissed at the snapdragon, who rumbled out a disappointed growl before turning and retreating to the white oak whose roots she had been hiding amongst, dragging the large branch behind her. She wiggled up to the trunk and rubbed against the bark, grumbling.
The bark on the tree trunk shifted suddenly, the coarse lines twisting around and out of their place. They bunched together before pulling away from the trunks. It flowed fluidly into a familiar figure. Tall, skinny, scruffy hair… All of it made of whitish bark.  
Sneak crouched down, shivering. No matter how many times he watched Butterfly pull himself away from a plant or tree, he still found it unnerving. The lines solidified as Butterfly pulled away from the tree, and his colour began to slowly return.
Only then did the single black eye wander down to see Sneak, and Butterfly smiled gently, “Sneak!”
Sneak’s fur flattened before he scrambled up to the medicine man. Scaling up his side, he perched on his right shoulder and began to chatter, “Butterfly, there’s a sick cub back home. Maybe you can help? Please?” He whined, dragging out the last word.  “And what were you doing in the tree? It frightens me, you know…” Shivering slightly, he glanced down at Roma.
Butterfly was silent as he bent down, picking up his long staff. Roma released it, twisting beside his leg, wanting to be held, but Butterfly just tapped the end of the staff next to her. Finally, she wound up the staff, allowing Butterfly to grip her gently around the middle, and rubbed her head against the wooden stick.
Finally, Butterfly returned his eye to Sneak, who had begun to wash himself nervously, and asked, “It was sick inside, so I helped it a little. And a fever…?”
“Yes. It’s little Shadow. With a cough too.” Sneak slid around his head and sat on the other shoulder, brushing Butterfly’s hair into clumps and looking through it for mosses or bugs. He found a spider and ate it up with a little squeak.
“Mmm… Need something then. You have food?” Butterfly turned his head towards sneak, eye slightly wanting.  He had heard Sneak’s chewing. Roma grew attentive at the word ‘food’.
Sneak swallowed and grumbled, “At home. Someone caught a dear this morning. It’s cooking. But you can’t eat until you see Shadow.” He found a piece of moss and shredded it with his claws before stuffing it into his mouth. Butterfly watched unhappily, obviously hungry.
Butterfly watched him enviously before sighing, “Fine…” Glancing away, he stilled when he saw a frog before darting his eye back to sneak, suddenly hopeful, “He is at home?”
“Your hut, yes.” Sneak licked his paws and washed pieces of moss from the sides of his furry face.
Butterfly raised a hand and traced his mouth with one of the bloody fingers, “I have food at home…”
Sneak sighed. Butterfly ran on a one track mind when he was hungry; if he let him go about his own way, the simple-minded medicine man would be head-first into some blueberries instead of doing his duties. “You can’t eat until you’ve looked at Shadow.”
Butterfly blinked before sighing, “Fine. I will see Shadow first.”

*

They had returned to the small village. After climbing up a nearby tree, letting down a ladder for Butterfly, and leading the medicine man back to his small hut –Butterfly always managed to get lost–, Sneak disappeared back into the trees, wanting to find some berries that he could eat with his dinner.
Butterfly now knelt beside a small cub, caressing it with his large hands. His eye was unreadable, though the way he bit his lip showed that he was thinking, sorting through what he knew of plants and trees.
Finally, he grinned. Holding the kitten-sized Amori child in one hand, he reached down, upset the pouch he carried at his hip, and then began to sort through the plants that had spilt out. Usually, he carried little Amori cubs in the pouch where they could roll and snuggle against each other, but he had been spared of babysitting earlier. Instead, he had collected plants.
Roma twisted around his waist and chest, peering at the little child in Butterfly’s hand. Her tongue flicked out, and she slid her head down to hiss at him before curling upon her master’s lap, rumbling. Butterfly grunted at her, not even casting her a look, before laying down the cub gently, standing, and retreating to the low, crude desk the Amoris had brought into his hut. He rifled through the bags there, searching for something that would help the little cub.
Roma curled around the cloth pillow upon which the Amori child lay, flicking her flat tongue out. Her friend, her master, was forgetful when it came to feeding her, and the furry child was just small enough...
Butterfly purred suddenly, picking out a small sprig of yellow flowers from a rough-edged box. He snapped off a flower, put it in his mouth, chewed slowly, and then spit out the mash onto his finger. He rolled it into a little ball, not seeming to care that the blood of his hands began to pollute the yellow mush.
Roma continued rumbling at the little cub, the small horns lining her neck perking. She was hungry and she knew that the little animal was sick. He’d be an easy prey. She wheezed at Butterfly again; she wanted food or permission to eat the fur-ball.
Butterfly came back over, smiling. Bending down, he patted her gently on the head before pushing the little ball of mush into the cub’s mouth. The small child shivered, tried to spit it out, but Butterfly gently but firmly forced him to eat it.
Growling in complaint, Roma slithered up Butterfly until she could wind around his neck. She nipped at his ears, voicing in discontent in little squeaks. She wanted to eat.
Ignoring his pet and turning the little cub onto his stomach, Butterfly ran a finger down his spine until the child relaxed. Then, watching for a while to make sure that the little cub was calm, he turned, returned to the desk, and dragged out a wicker basket from underneath.
Roma’s horns perked, the flowers at the end of them rustling slightly. Tightening around his shoulders and chest, she crooned happily, recognizing the basket.
Cooing lovingly, Butterfly cracked open the basket, snatched a frog as it jumped through the small opening, and then closed it. He held the frog up before Roma, lilting, “Good Roma… You want food?”
Roma snapped at the small yellow amphibian, gobbled it down, and then grumbled, wanting more. Butterfly opened the basket again, grabbed a frog, and this time crammed it into his own mouth, ignoring Roma’s jaded coos. He was hungry too.
For a moment, there was only silence except for the crunching of little frog bones. Suddenly, a squeak.
He glanced back at the cub, saw him sitting up, big black eyes watching him. Choking down the frog, he smiled, shoved the basket back under the desk, and crossed over to him, “Are you okay now…?”
Roma wheezed unhappily and dropped down to the floor as Shadow nodded.
Butterfly checked the little Amori over with gentle fingers. He still had a slight fever, though the worst was gone, drawn to the flower-mush. He would keep the child there during the night to make sure that the fever didn’t return to its worst phase.
He set the child down and petted Roma absently as he turned back to the desk, eyes peering over the herbs and flowers as he licked his chapped lips. Now it would be time for dinner. Deer, Sneak had said. Deer would mean charred meat, overdone to meet the tastes of the small Amoris.
Sighing, he grabbed up some of the herbs. He liked rare meat, but he could live through the charred-black mess that the Amoris ate if he buried it in some of his plants.
The cub squeaked again, and Butterfly felt small claws quivering at his ankles. He glanced down and back at the ball of fur, smiled lovingly, and bent down to pick him up. Cupping his giant hands around the little thing, he purred at Roma, “Roma, you want some deer?”
Roma rustled her flowers before slithering back to the wooden desk and slipping under it. Hiding behind the basket, she wheezed discontentedly; she didn’t like being around the Amoris. They only made her hungrier.
Sighing, Butterfly bent over, placed Shadow in the pouch hanging from his waist, and murmured, “I’ll come back after eating… with berries for you.” He smiled gently before turning to the door of the hut.
Roma snuffled unhappily. She wanted to eat the frogs… Why couldn’t Butterfly stay and eat frogs with her…?
Too late, for the curtain separating the inside of the hut with the cold air outside swished open and closed, leaving her there curled up next to the basket.