DANIEL HERON: BECOMING

7 - There, you're a butterfly killer now!

Laughter and drunken jabbering of Lucio's gang echoed throughout the factory. Every now and then, someone would raise a glass. For good health! For bitter drinks and sweet life! For the fear in our enemies' eyes! For friends! For Heron, the hero of the day!

The last part was not to Daniel's liking. He did not think of himself as a hero, but nonetheless, he raised his glass along with the others although he didn't drink it. In fact, he only drank down the first time. From then on, he only pretended to drink, grateful that the tipsy guys didn't see through his deception.

They were toasting well into the night. The midnight was far behind when they finally threw in the towel. Most of them crashed out on the spot; Daniel assumed that many of them will be cursing their painful limbs the next day.

He laid on his couch, trying to find the least uncomfortable position and doze off surrounded by the cacophony of loud snoring. It seemed as though hours have passed before he finally fell asleep.

He woke up in broad daylight, his back aching, his limbs numb. He stretched in order to force his blood to start circulating again. He wasn't hungover. He hadn't drunk much the night before, unlike the guys who still dreamed their drunken dreams.

The pungent smell of vomit wrinkled his nose. Not wanting to be the one to clean it, he headed out to get some fresh air. He wasn't wearing a watch. He didn't need one since he had nowhere to get to on time. High above him, the sun was hiding behind the dark clouds that sailed across the sky, but Daniel assumed it was past noon.

The forest attracted him irresistibly. Even on a gloomy day such as this one, or maybe because of it, it seemed like a scene from a fantasy. He looked over his shoulder, casting a glance at the factory so worn down that he had to ask himself what was holding it in one piece. My new home, he reminded himself. That wretched building, beaten down by countless storms, was his new home. Somewhat discouraging notion, when he gave it some thought.

Deciding that he needed a nicer sight, he let his legs carry him towards the forest. At first, he walked, but somewhere along the way walking turned to running. He passed the burnt trash and the rusty, overturned barrel and just kept going. The narrow path led him deeper into the forest while the trees like fortress walls towered over him.

He didn't stop until the last sign of civilization was out of sight. The fall thinned tree canopies, exposing the gray clouds above and a single sunray that managed to pierce through and find its way to the tired young man in a blue denim jacket. He sat on a stump overgrown with moss, lifted his head and for a moment, pushed both of his hands into his uncombed hair. He closed his eyes.

Now and then a bird would announce its presence by nothing more than a silent tweet, but the summer symphony sang by nightingales died down. They were gone, not to return until the next spring. A tiny blue tit chirped just next to Daniel. He opened his eyes, hoping to see the little bird, but she already fluttered away. The sunray was disappeared as well.

Instead of it, he spotted a butterfly. Its black and yellow wings slowly carried it through the air. He landed on a lobelia flower, the last one that opened its petals to greet the autumn sun. Daniel extended his open palm towards the flower and the delicate little creature stepped on it. As if the heat of Daniel's hand suited it, the butterfly remained standing in the middle of his palm, leisurely opening and closing its wings, not at all frightened.

"Heron, are you there?! Can you hear me?!" Distant calling disturbed the peace the forest was enveloped in just a moment earlier. "Heron, you asshole, answer me!"

Daniel stood up. Judging by the sound of the voice, he was guessing it was Manuel calling him. He decided to ignore him. Of all the guys in Lucio's gang, he liked him the least. He had a flair, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he had a tongue, to insert a bunch of insults into each conversation. They were present even now.