Disclaimer-I still don't own Firefly or the verse. If I did, we'd all be watching shiny new episodes. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

A soft, evening breeze blew past the stately columns, catching silk draperies, making them dance and swirl within the slowly cooling night mist now rising like a blanket over the mountains. Beyond the windows, one could see the sky, once ablaze in fiery reds and deep purple, fading into the still darkness of another night. All around the landscape was filling with the quiet peace which marked nightfall on Sihnon.

Autumn was fast approaching the Companion house of Madrassa, and the trainees were eagerly awaiting its arrival. Autumn saw the arrival of new trainees and the beginning of the next path to becoming registered companions. Each of the trainees strove to prove themselves worthy of this honour with renewed vigour in their studies come the fall, though some suggested this was also due to the added desire of staying out of the coolness of winter weather.

Even registered companions couldn't help but become excited at the promise of autumn and all it brought to their lives. So it was no surprise to find companions and trainees working tirelessly to prepare themselves despite the late hour, all the companions except one.

Sitting alone in a small alcove at the end of an abandoned hallway, sat a young companion, gracefully perched upon a silken window seat and steadily working through yet another needlework piece. The house priestess insisted that just because one had been named a companion did not give one the excuse to abandon her arts, thus every day, certain hours were set aside for the maintaining of skills.

The piece itself was flawless, each stitch minute and purposeful. The women breathtaking: serene in her countenance, composed in her features, and wearing an easy grace which could not be taught. Many in the house had started whispering words regarding her rising place within the house, claiming that not even house priestess was unattainable would be unreachable to the rising beauty. But she was uncertain.

Looking up from her work, Inara realised that the sun had almost completed its nightly ritual once again, and, sighing wistfully, dropped her needlework to watch the sky as it finished turning, small stars beginning to twinkle in her expanse. None of this made sense, life didn't make any sense.

Life as a companion was all she knew. It was all she and her family had ever wanted her entire life, or at least she thought this was what she wanted. Had she been mistaken?

Inara knew the right actions, she had the social graces, her teachers lavished her with praise, and clients strove to woo her but within her heart she was restless, almost to the point of being painful.

Was this really all she was meant to be? Was her life so easily summed up within the life of companion? Condemned to walking a straight road from trainee, to companion, to priestess never altering her path and never getting the chance to discover who she was in the deepest parts of her being? Suddenly, the room, though large and airy, felt confining and claustrophobic. She had to get out, had to . . .

Out of the corner of her eye, Inara saw a flash of colour settle on the sill of the window she had just left. Quietly inching forward, she looked, and spotted a small butterfly with wings that seem to shine under the vibrancy of its colours. Staring entranced, Inara jumped slightly, startled, when the little creature suddenly rose and flew away.

Following its departure, Inara drew back in concealed horror, drawing on her training to fight back a wave of illogical tears, hopelessness overwhelming her as she slowly gazed at the scene around her with new eyes. She had everything she and her family had ever dreamed of for her life, yet she felt like a small caterpillar who had had silk wings glued to her sides and told she was a butterfly, trapped within a world that would never let her mature and fly.

Inara's mind wandered back to her old friend Nandi, was this how she felt before she had left the guild? Desperate, restless, trapped? Smashing dulcimers was not Inara's style; she was a model of grace to be aspired too, a proud example of Madrassa's companions. But there was an ever growing divide between the sought after companion and the woman inside. How could a woman survive divided, should a woman survive a life so torn? Inara's mind brought forth the image of a small box, a vial and syringe it's only inhabitants, before shaking the thought from her mind, like the shooing away of a fly.

Hurriedly, Inara left the now unwelcoming room and went to the gardens to clear her mind, the night air embracing her with its cooling breeze acting like a balm to her troubled soul. What was she to do? Out of nowhere, a small piece of crumpled paper was captured by the breeze and tumbled over the toe of her shoe. Curious, Inara bent down, picked it up and began to read.

It was an advertisement. A local ship was renting out one of its shuttles for business as they travelled the galaxy. A plan began forming in Inara's head. The price was ridiculous but that was easily fixed, she knew enough about business to talk the captain down and the thought of a shuttle. A shuttle meant freedom, a chance to get away. The house priestess would not be happy, would claim she was running away. In truth though, Inara had the strangest suspicion she was running too something, not away from it. Either way, the possibility of expanding her client base would be enough to convince the house priestess of her decision's necessity.

Yes, decision. It was settled. Tomorrow morning she would go and find this . . . . she glanced down again, Malcolm Reynolds and secure the use of his shuttle. Feeling more alive than she had in weeks, Inara rose from the bench she had been sitting on and began the walk back to her quarters, a smile gracing her face. Yes, Malcolm Reynolds wouldn't know what was coming.