A Deadly Bite

30 || Scent Of Lavender

The grass is so tall it surpasses my knees.

It is soft to the touch, velvet soft and smooth as ribbon as it wraps my fingers. Though my fist is small, the blade I clutch crumples as easily as paper. It seems odd to term something so flimsy a blade. A blade should have a sharp edge and a point, and should be hard as steel, unbreakable. This grass tears with only the slightest pull.

I pull again, and the grass blade rips jaggedly in half, leaving me with the severed upper section. Some stirring awakes in my core at the sight of the torn edge. Frost pricks my heart despite the honey-like sunlight caressing my face. It appears harsher this way. A broken blade.

"Noli?"

My name. I jerk, thoughts melding into a single blob of curiosity. In the shimmering haze of light, colour blurs in a similar way. Circles of translucent white and gold blot the view of emerald fields and the clear blue sky beyond, bold and brighter than anything I feel I should recall seeing. Everything is so beautifully, endlessly alive. The bare skin on my arms seems to pulse with fluid heat, like the sun itself has grown strong enough to stretch out its yellow fingers and cradle me, gentle but intensely firm.

The call of my name comes from a splash that cracks the view: a swaying lilac dress, fluttering with movement rather than a gusty breeze, and a mess of tumbling black curls. Blinking, I raise a hand to shield my eyes, and my mother's image sharpens.

She strides briskly towards me and drops to her knees. Her eyes are glinting forest jewels, and they catch the light in an odd pattern, their dim shine lighting only as her gaze locks to mine. "There you are," she says, her voice soft and cool, an intrusion of winter amongst the warmth we bathe in. She cups my cheek. Her touch thrums through me strangely, kindling an alarm that chimes with a spark of confusion until it settles and fades to my heart's drumbeat.

The corners of my mouth rise. She grins back, fingers threading my hair as she tilts my head forward and plants a kiss on my brow. "Don't play with grass, Noli." Her tone skips like a snowflake, bouncing through the swirling wind currents of her smile. "It's far too dull for you. Why don't we find some flowers to pick?"

My chin dips in a nod. Laughing as if in tune to a joke I don't understand, my mother takes hold of my hand and leaps to her feet, guiding me through the field. I have to jog to keep up with her swift, lithe movements. She moves like a graceful storm.

"Here!" she cries. There are trails of gold sewn into her dress's pale purple, and they glitter in the sun's full glow, outshining the darker violet shade of the flower she bends down to pluck. There are many of them clustered together at her feet, a splash of stark difference amongst the green. The flower itself forms a short funnel guarded by miniature petals. It sways atop a long stem, seeming to stare up at me without eyes as she brings it closer to my face.

"I always loved this one." Glee carries almost too thickly through her whisper. A throbbing urge in my chest pushes me to look beyond it, to the mild sadness in her expression. It's contradictory, and it fizzles the buoyancy of her smile.

There's something dull about it. Distant. Alarm whines again in my ears, and I frown, wishing I could swat it away. The sun's rays are starting to burn.

My skin is hot, yet my hands prickle with cold.

"Lavender," my mother says, and the thought snaps like a blade of grass. "Go on, give it a sniff."

Obedience is easy when it's her voice I follow. I oblige, and a sweeping wave of calm accosts my senses. Woody smoke scatters across the scent. It's softly sweet, and it scoops up doubt and soothes it until it fades to nothing but dust. With my nose full of it, I can only grin.