There has been a sweetness in the air since last week. Father says to pay no mind. There is nothing sweet here, has not been for a long time.
I say it is well enough for him to say that since he's a grumpy old Orc. He remembers this village when it was a mining town. He thinks that every promise is poison, so if the air smells sweet it is a trick, foul magic.
But I smell the sweetness, at night as I dream. A lover comes to me in the night, wrapped in honeysuckle and lavender. He is my wildflower prince. He promises to take me away from this backwater, this dead town.
I think tonight I will go with him, if I can. I will go far away from here. But what if he doesn't appear in my dreams again? I don't even know his name.