Chapter 3: Forbidden Daffodils
Someone was straightening a quilt about his worn body. Yazoo's eyes flashed open in an instant. Back at him stared the eyes of a very young woman. He tried to sit up but found that his muscles were too sore to do so. She watched his quiet struggle
"Where am I?"
Still the girl did not reply. She seemed to be lost for words and curiously eyeing his features.
"Who are you?" he said after a long silence, obviously perplexed by her silence. Not expecting an answer, he was slightly surprised when she said, "Rachel." Rachel fidgeted with her light yellow skirt piece. "My name is Rachel and you're in my house. I live near the ruins. I found you lying in a ditch and didn't want you to catch a cold. It was raining." This all came out at once. If Yazoo was certain of nothing else it was that she could indeed carry on quite a lighted conversation with herself if only given a single match. Also, the fact that she had said nothing of his wounds worried him considerably. Hopefully her seemingly secluded life in the country hadn't taught her to be ignorant of emergencies.
Rachel stood abruptly and scooted off to what looked like a wooden wash barrel. It was then that Yazoo noticed her full appearance. She was definitely shorter than he, her dress only going down to just above her ankles. The antique white, sleeveless top attached to the billowing skirt was low and wrapped around her subtle breasts, the only thing covering them another garment of ivory lace underneath. A strip of baby maze embraced the lower part of the dress, blending softly with the spring moss of the daffodil stems which reached for some place higher. She was very attractive for her age. Auburn wisps curled about her peach petal skin as she dipped a rag into the steaming water.
"Do you live here alone?" Yazoo asked, still quite occupied with thoughts of Kadaj and how it might be possible to return him from the lifestream. Surely there was always a way to fix things.
"My mother died a few days ago." She replied nonchalantly as if it had not affected her. Yazoo only continued to think of questions that might better his situation. Perhaps he could live here until he regained his health. He pondered the girl's death but eventually decided against it unless something pressing arose.
"Would you like some soup?"
Yazoo shook his head, stirring a slight headache. As he was very good at pretending to be courteously inclined, he tended to get more out of strangers than Kadaj or Loz ever did. Rachel walked to the small, mahogany bed where he lay and placed a damp cloth on his forehead. She then walked to the window and opened it. Many yellow daffodils whirled about the room as the wind blew restlessly from outside.
"It's windy," she said, after standing unmoving in front of the great flower storm for a few seconds. Yazoo thought she was being quite obvious, but noticed a look of content color her face a light shade of pink, a healthy color. She shut the window after a few seconds more and simply stood there.
She heard nothing.