[Knowing what the flowers are capable of, Rosetta had parked herself near the edge of the clearing to allow passers-by their privacy. Occasionally, though, a memory would slip inside her mind and play itself out. The newest visions are sweet and tender, if a touch . . . sad.
Then there's shouting, and it shatters the illusion. Snapping back to reality, Rosetta gasps at the sight of the flower field. Fire. So much fire. It's everywhere.]
What are you doing!?
[She rushes toward the perpetrator, quiet grief and fury creeping into her voice.]
4
Then there's shouting, and it shatters the illusion. Snapping back to reality, Rosetta gasps at the sight of the flower field. Fire. So much fire. It's everywhere.]
What are you doing!?
[She rushes toward the perpetrator, quiet grief and fury creeping into her voice.]
Ah, the flowers . . . They're burning . . .