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Though, he waits for death to overcome him.
Collapsing into the snow- letting the blizzard overtake him,
He is not afraid of death.
Death, he will welcome.
Death is welcome because it has welcomed him .
And the Poppy that watches him bleed out- its eyes watching as its very own color seeps out of his soul and mixes with the snow beneath.
“My Poppy.”
And he reaches out to touch the human skin, wiping some of his blood on its face,
And her brows contort- she is no Poppy, though this strange man lying in the snow caresses her like one.
Her tribe will murder him if he touches her.
If he caresses her like a flower.
Does he not know who she is?
Where is his tribe?
Where does he belong?
Why, it is so obvious- his skin color is so… different.
Her face contorts.
She will save this Daffodil, she will save him.
Allow him to caress her like a flower.
Like a Poppy.
She likes his color, why he is so different.
“My, you’ve so different from me. I’m save you of thy snow, stand.”
And her gentle leaves lift him from the ground.
His eyes are closed- his pupils disappeared.
He is a delicate Daffodil, after all.’
Perhaps he was already wilted.
Maybe death had finally found him.
Maybe this Daffodil had not lived ever in the first place?
“Why thee? So far so away from the tribe of yours, you’ve no burnt skin like I’m.”
He moves on her broad back- the Daffodil clung on- to her, to life.
She would make sure that her, his life.
Why would the Poppy be his life?
But, why wouldn’t she.
“I have no tribe. I’ve come along so far, I found a Poppy so I could share my blood and tears with it. I found my Poppy, so why’re you saving me?”
And the twists of his tongue, she does not understand.
She does not see why he is so… different, hard skin like bark, and fluttery voice with such a pretty face.
“And the Poppy is so stong- its scent could be smelled from a mile away. I will call you my Poppy, my Poppy has come to save me.”
So her mouth goes high- the Poppy finds this stange man quite attractive, she will protect him.
And she likes his scent- she loves Daffodils.
And bravery is she- and wildness is he, and she will protect him from death and ri away its strong fangs and claws.
The Poppy will save the Daffodil.