Butterflies and Shiny Things

Lily, Barnaby, and Sly skidded to a halt, their paws and feet kicking up a flurry of fallen petals. Professor Hoot, perched precariously on a wilting sunflower, huffed and adjusted his spectacles. "Indeed," he rasped, his voice a dry rustle of leaves, "the trail, such as it is, leads yonder. Towards the… the fluttery ones."

Sly twitched his nose, his bushy tail flicking with impatience. "Butterflies? You mean those flappy things that keep tickling my ears with their wings?"

Barnaby, ever the loyal companion, nudged Lily’s hand with his button nose. "They *are* rather… airy," he whispered, his voice a soft rumble in Lily's ear, though he spoke aloud for all to hear now. "But Professor Hoot says they might have the sugar cubes."