The day I met her, she smelled like daisies. 

I was sitting on a threadbare blanket in the village square around noon. Other vendors had set up their booths around me and yelled their deals to the passing crowds. Half-priced walnuts. The finest silk from Kerene. A shoe that once belonged to the King's great aunt. Live snakes. Half-priced pecans. I always set up my blanket as far from the snake booth as possible. As the people around me ran errands, crossing to and fro from the blacksmith to the baker to the shoemaker, I played my pipe. 

The first day, she merely glanced at me as she hurried past, wicker basket in hand, to the woodshop, letting her eyes linger for a moment on my thin fingers as they danced across the flute. For three days she glanced whenever she passed. I noticed the way her eyes darted, like they were accustomed to fear. I noticed the way her eyes were pretty and glowed golden in the sunlight.

On the fifth day she drifted closer to my blanket. As she was walking past, she glanced at me. In her moment of distraction, a stray mule blasted through the square, almost knocking her down. As she stumbled from the shock something slipped out of her basket. It hit the dusty road and I saw my opportunity.

"Miss?"

She glanced back and then quickly looked away, forcing herself into the crowd. I stood up hastily and scooped up what she had dropped.

"Miss, wait!"

She walked on, so I ran to catch up. I grabbed her sleeve, pulling her to a halt in the center of the busy path.

"Miss," I panted, "you dropped this."

Flustered, I held out my hand, only afterwards realizing it was holding my wooden flute. She blushed lightly as I quickly switched it for the small wooden leg in my other hand. For the first time, I looked closer at the leg. It was freshly carved with joints that worked and little holes that looked like eyes of needles. Her eyes met mine. She swiped the leg from my hand. It disappeared into her basket as a bearded man jostled into her. I caught her mid-stumble and she blushed again.

"Thank you, sir," she said hastily.

I spoke slowly, holding her gaze, "You're welcome, miss." I paused. You're very pretty--"

"Thank you, sir."

"What's your name--"

"Madeleine, sir."

I bowed and tipped an imaginary hat, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madeleine. I'm--"

An older woman with gray waves of hair and sharp eyes gripped her arm and jerked her away. Madeleine managed a sad smile over her shoulder as she was ushered into the town's woodshop. I stood, somehow emptier than before, and watched the door close behind her. For three weeks she paused whenever she passed. I noticed the way her eyes became more and more drenched in fear. I noticed the way her feet betrayed her and brought her closer and closer to my blanket.

The sky was bright the day she approached me, cloudless and yet it smelled of rain.

"Help me."