She spotted two strangers on her branch from afar, but something kept her from waving. They appeared to be having a conversation and were alert, yet not overly alert. Both of them were wearing the same uniform Bob had on whenever he was doing something for the Grand Patrol. It was the same grey vest and colourless wingwear with nothing but a large dot in the middle. The design was supposed to be simple, but Jeannie did not know whether the dot represented one of the moons, the sun, or perhaps a rock. It could have been any of these floating objects one could spot around the Hackberry Forest.

Climbing up the tree bark was getting harder by the second. The two strangers made Jeannie feel uneasy, and she ended up making smaller steps without thinking about it. She remembered the day Bob had decided to join them: it was a cold day, perhaps a bit foggy. He had always aspired to be someone who made decisions. It was in his blood. Yet the day after joining, something changed. He no longer laughed at Jeannie’s jokes, and she suspected he didn’t really pay attention to them either. Her interactions with him had become limited ever since that fateful day.

Jeannie reached the top of the branch and tried to appear calm, even though her throat was starting to feel dry. One of the strangers took a long look at her without moving as much as a muscle on his face, which made Jeannie felt even more nervous. Her left wing started twitching, and she cursed the Lizards.

“Jeannie, is that correct?” the stiff one asked, staring intensely at her.

“Yes,” Jeannie replied. So far she was following Bob’s instructions with great success.

“You complained about yellow mold?” he continued.

“Yes, sir. Yellow mold.”

“Can you show me where this mold is?”

“You are standing on it, sir.” Jeannie pointed with her head to the fuzzy, yellow mass that had already stained the boots of the two officers with unknown gunk.

The stiff one turned towards to other one (shorter, plump and just as emotionless), and gave him a strange look, as if they knew something about their location which she didn’t.

“Can you verify whether this mold is yellow?” the stiff one finally asked the short one after an unusually long pause.

The short one nodded, bent down, and scratched a piece of mold from the branch with the tips of his legs. He gave it a long look, and then sniffed it with his antennae. His face tried to remain professional, despite the tears that formed in his eyes.

“This type of fungus is common and, lucky for us, very young. Such fungi are known to change colours in the beginning of their growth stage, but they will eventually turn grey.”

“So you are saying this is just normal mold?” the stiff one asked somewhat disappointed.

“Yes. This lady stumbled upon it in its early development, like I mentioned. The freshness and smell leave no doubt on my mind: the mold is less than 5 hours old. If you concentrate, you can even watch the spores multiply. Common mold is yellow this early in its growth phase.”

“That’s more than enough.” The stiff one ended the conversation abruptly and turned to Jeannie before the other guy could add anything else. She watched his eyes turn from slightly bored to intrigued. For whatever reason, he wasn’t trying to conceal his emotions any longer.

“Jeannie, do you have a last name?”

“No.” she shook her head.

He stared intensely at her for a few seconds. The expression on his face barely changed.

“Of course you don’t, why did I even ask such a silly thing…Take off your wingwear.”

“Excuse me?” she was shocked by the request, but that didn’t seem to bother the stiff butterfly at all.

“Both wing mittens. Take them off,” he insisted.

Jeannie reluctantly took off one of them, then the other. The two officers in front of her just stared at her naked wings for a few long seconds without flapping a single word.

“To be frank, my knowledge of fungus can only help me so much. I can’t tell you what kind of butterfly she is.”

“Neither can I. But, look, the edges of her wings have some strange black spots. Is it possible she is a White Swallowtail?”

“Praise the Lizards if it’s true!” the short fungi expert flapped and gently grabbed Jeannie’s left wing, accidentally pulling her closer to himself. He marvelled at the small, black pattern she had on both wings. Jeannie had never taken notice of it; she had treated it as something normal everyone had. At least she thought it was normal. Jeannie had never seen another naked butterfly in her life.

“She has to be a Swallowtail,” the short butterfly concluded and scanned the rest of her body.” The last one. Could we really be this lucky?”

“The Grand Patrol will be pleased,” the stiff one flapped back with relief in his eyes. Jeannie just stared at him, not knowing what to flap.

“Get dressed, Jeannie Swallowtail. You’re coming with us.” The fungi expert finally let go of her wings.

“Where are we going?” she asked wearily, not quite sure if she was ready for the answer. The stiff one just giggled and tossed her one of the wing mittens lying on the branch. It had a few yellow stains from the mold.

“To the Grand Patrol, our lords and saviours. They will be very, very pleased.”