Chapter 6

Stripe turned around and began to go down the pillar. This time he didn't curl up. He stretched out full length and looked straight into the eyes of each caterpillar. He marveled at their beauty, amazed that he had never noticed it before. He whispered to each caterpillar: "I've been up. There's nothing there." 

Most paid no attention. They were too intent on climbing. One said: "It's sour grapes." But some were shocked and even stopped climbing to hear him better. One of these whispered in anguish: "Don't say it, even if it's true. What else can we do?" Stripe's answer shocked them all, including himself: "We can fly! We can become butterflies! There's nothing at the top and it doesn't matter!" 

As he heard his own message he realized how he had misread the instinct to get high. To get to the 'top' he must fly, not climb. Stripe looked at each caterpillar inebriated with joy that there could be a butterfly inside. But the reaction was worse than before. He saw fear in their eyes. This news was too good to be true. And if it wasn't? The hope that lit up the pillar dimmed. The way down was so long. Doubt flooded Stripe. The pile took on horrible dimensions. He struggled on. It seemed wrong to give up believing. Yet believing seemed impossible. A crawler sneered: "How could you swallow such a story? Our life is earth and climbing. Look at us worms! We couldn't be butterflies inside. Just enjoy caterpillar living!" 

"Perhaps he's right," sighed Stripe. "I haven't any proof. Did I make it up because I needed it?" He continued down, searching for those eyes, which would let him whisper: "I saw a butterfly—there can be more to life."

Finally, he was down. 

Tired and sad, Stripe crawled off to the old place where Yellow and he had romped. She was not there. He was too exhausted to go further. He fell asleep. When he finally awoke he found the yellow creature fanning him with wings of light. 

"Is this a dream?" he wondered. But the dream creature acted awfully real. She stroked him with her feelers and looked at him so lovingly that he began to trust what he had said about becoming a butterfly. The butterfly walked a little distance, then flew back. She repeated it as if indicating that he should follow her. Stripe complied, and they came to a branch from which hung two torn sacks. The creature kept on inserting her head, then her tail, into one of them. Then she would fly to him and touch him. Her feelers quivered and Stripe knew she was speaking. Slowly he seemed to understand. Somehow he knew what to do. Stripe began making a cocoon. And Yellow waited. It got darker and Stripe was afraid. He felt he had to let go of everything. 

Until one day… 

The Beginning.