Blushing Rose

      Looking about, he surmised he had gone as far as Sector Six slums this time. The slums were quiet…. Quiet until there was a scream.

      He stopped short, wondering what he should do. On one hand, he had to return to the barracks. On the other, he had a conscience too. Deciding that the trip back to Sector One could wait, he ran towards the direction of the scream.

      It was a group of four men attacking a young woman… a girl. One of them had grasped her arm, twisting it behind her back while another closed in on her, his fingers already beginning to greedily unbutton the front of her dress.

      “Let her go.”

     The men turned. “ A SOLDIER,” one of them slurred. The place reeked of drink. 

      He hated the small, he thought as he drew his sword. The sharp sound of it coming out of its scabbard seemed to register some sobriety into the drunkards’ eyes. 

      “Leave. Now.”

      They heeded his words, running away. The girl looked visibly shaken, but unharmed. She couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen, he thought. Quite attractive, he acceded, with large dark eyes and long brown hair tied into a simple braid. 

      “Are you all right?” he asked her quietly. 

      “I… I think so,” she answered, picking up a basket and then bending to gather some frilly things from the floor. 

      He blinked. “Those are flowers!” he exclaimed, helping her.

      She smiled a little sadly, nodding. “I grow them and sell them for a living.”

      He handed a few stems to her. “That’s amazing, considering these are the slums….”

      “Some people think I’m a witch, because I’m the only one who cultivates them. But most people just don’t have the time or patience for this.” He saw a flicker of loneliness in her eyes.

      “They’re just ignorant. Your flowers are very beautiful.”

      Those eyes took a sparkle. “Thank you.”

      “Do you live around here?”

      She nodded. 

      He frowned. “Isn’t it dangerous walking around the city at this time selling flowers?”

      “It’s not really all that late, and I was actually selling them at Wallmarket. It’s busiest there at this time. That’s where everybody is.”

      “Except for those men that tried attacking you, of course,” he added dryly.

      “I can take care of myself,” she tried defending herself, flushing. The she smiled brightly. “But at least you came along.” She looked around. “I’d better get going now.”

      “I’ll walk with you,” he offered, not knowing why.

      As he walked beside her, he noted the colour of her eyes in the light of the streetlamp. They were green, projecting a soft sort of serenity that was little, if at all, troubled by the trials and corruption of the slums. Her build was slight, an inch or two over five feet and her form slender. She wore a pink dress, topped with a red vest.

      He could see why she had been attacked. She was very appealing.

      “Are you a SOLDIER?” she asked, looking intently at his glowing eyes. There was a bit of uncertainty in her eyes.

      “Yes,” he admitted, not really wanting to drive her away with that confession. “But that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

      The openness returned to her eyes. “No,” she decided. “It doesn’t.”

      They reached a house with flower beds and blooming bushes. It was easy to see she lived there. She sighed a little. “Mother’ll be disappointed.”

      “Hard times?” 

      “Yes.” Her green eyes looked a bit tearful. “Nobody seems to be very interested in flowers anymore.”

      He wanted to help. Subconsciously, he thought of the wad of gil he always kept in his pocket ‘for emergencies’ that never came. Why not? Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and took out one full month’s pay. “Here.” He handed the money to her. “Take it.”

      She looked at him, bewildered and doubtful.

      “I don’t need it,” he told her. “Have it all. I never go out to spend money anyway.”

      Slowly, she took the gil from him, their fingers brushing. Uncomfortably, he turned away, focusing on a bush nearby. He felt something being pressed into his hand. Looking down, he saw it was a rose, white on the outside, but a soft, blushing pink within the petals. 

      “Thank you,” she said softly before turning away.

      He stared at the rose in his hand, bemused. Finally, he lifted his gaze to the closed door. “You’re welcome,” he whispered. Then he tucked the flower into a pocket and walked away.