In A Field Of Wild Flowers - One Shot

Field Of Flowers

In A Field Of Wild Flowers

Part 1

A cold sweat dampens my forehead, a chill running down my spine as the cold wind brushes past my exposed skin. The frigid air nipping and biting at my fingertips. My thin fingers grip the hard leather of the old, worn bag that is wrapped tightly around my shaking form. I take another step forward, each one becoming harder than the last. My body is growing weak from the sickness that has been plaguing me for many days now.

    I need to move quicker. I'm running out of time. He'll realize I'm gone soon, if he hasn't already. Fear creps its way up my spine, into the base of my skull. Snuggling into my mind, my thoughts granting it warmth and safety from the cold winter air. The fear of what would happen if he found me consumes my mind. I shouldn't have left.

    He'll be angry, and want answers as to why I left. What would I say? What could I say? I couldn't tell him the truth. Telling him the truth meant him knowing me, knowing my thoughts. Knowing my fears.

    Guilt begins to rise to the surface of my mind. I knew leaving- running away like this would cause him stress. Possibly disturb his plans. He has a life, and now because of me it will be put on pause. Part of me doesn't care. It tells me he deserves to have his day be disturbed, that he deserves to be put aside. But the other part, the part that crawls its way up into my thoughts, into my heart, tells me otherwise. It tells me I have made a mistake. That I am acting selfishly. That I am the one to blame.

    Did he really do anything to deserve this? He was just as well thrown into this life as I. Our predicament was not of our choice. Neither of us wanted this. My pale eyes cast down in thought, I had barely even registered the shapes and colors in front of me. The stone path I stand on is a rather plain and boring gray color. My eyes catch a raindrop, it collides with the stone, darkening its color. Slowly more droplets of water begin to fall to the ground, covering the surface in the liquid.  

    I stand in silence, the fear that has been tucked tightly into the back of my mind slowly begins to slip down my spine, washed away by the heavy rain. The cold air around me numbs my now soaked body. I was already extremely sick, and this would only make it worse. Perhaps I'll grow so sickly that I'd die. Was that any better?

    My life was grim and dark and gray. But was I truly so disturbed to want death? I flinch at the sound of a man behind me, calling someone's name. My name perhaps? I turn slightly. The now pouring rain making it difficult to see ahead. But not difficult enough to realize very quickly that it is the man I had been running from, a horse beside him.

    Seeing the worry on his face and the relief in his eyes made me wonder why I had been running at all. What was I doing? He wasn't angry like I had thought he would be. I had worried him sick, leaving so suddenly without a word. My fingers grip  tightly around the waist fabric of my dress, shame washing over me. Rain water runs down the strands of my hair before falling to the ground below me.

    I feel my legs shake beneath me as I try to speak, to give him a reason as to why I had left. An excuse to maybe ease the inevitable anger that he will feel once he realizes that I had wasted his precious time. When he realizes I am nothing. Nothing but a burden on him and this kingdom.

But before I can manage to get the words to leave my mouth I feel myself being encased in a warm hug. I freeze, my eyes widening from the action. His arms wrap around me like I'd disappear if he let go. The warmth I feel calms my shaking body slightly, his simi dry clothing is like fire on my icy limbs.

"Are you alright?" His voice is smooth, his breath tickling my ear as he speaks. I nod my head, unable to speak. A sigh leaves his lips as he pulls away from me slightly. "Please don't ever worry me like that again." He says, looking into my eyes, his words laced with a gentleness that surprises me. Why was he not angry?