Prancing inside a fenced and guarded field, littered with thistly shrubs and thorns which leave her bandaged limbs in crimson patches; the countless beds of flowers sprawled in this scape tug at her to keep on barging in, despite the evident toll on her body.
Intoxicated she's become, and she'd do just about anything to sway with those myriads of warmth and solace in persistent regularity. But if this seemingly too great of a comfort comes to a haze and halts in an abrupt, yet foreseen depart, what becomes of the hues she's come to know and long for?
--•--
A short story I had penned on impulse, and one that only contains a single chapter which holds the entirety of the narrative.
Word count : 630