The Darkness of a Butterfly

As the girl wove the intricate pattern into the cloth, she thought over the things that had happened. All the weeks of her life that had past since that day.

It had happened months before, the exact date she couldn't remember, but she remembered the day very well, to well.
The sun had been shining, It was late autumn, already the frosts had taken the leaves from the trees.
The world was cool, the sun weak and the sky pale.
The girl was sitting on a log by the stream, watching, but the bright colour that she had glimpsed was gone, and what it had come from, she was unable to know.
She sighed and stood up. The walk to the home was short, but the path was slippery and wet.
She was lifting the hem of her gown, in an attempt to keep the mud off it as she walked, When she saw it again, the bright flash of unnameable colours.
Without thinking she followed it.