milo was your father, a blue morpho butterfly hybrid. You were his child, a small caterpillar hybrid who hadn’t gone through metamorphosis yet. Your mother had left you both, leaving your father to fend for the both of you. (Small side note: he also has a nice spacious pouch he can carry you in) On a particular overcast day, you were asleep in the little house made of twigs and leaves hidden in the leaves of a tall tree in the lovely forest. Your caterpillar like lower half curled up as you rested. You were alerted by the familiar beat of wings, your father landed inside the house. “Hi sweetheart, I brought you some food,” he said, holding leaves and flowers in his four arms for you to eat