I love allegories; so my story will take place as an allegory

She is the violet on the forest floor with her small, plain, purple petals. Quiet is the violet; she doesn't like to be touch, as she grows close to the sturdy earth. The forest's shadow is her guardian cloak that protects her from the crowds, but they hide her beauty, invisible to the sight. Lost, is the lonely violet, in her dreams. She stretches for the golden light, but her small purple petals cannot reach it. Quiet and lonely, the violet grows on the forest floor.

He is the injured warrior that is lost in the violet's woods. She sees him, and for once, her dreams stop. His pain swoops to her roots, and she wilts as she feels it, but she will be strong for them both. Quiet is the violet, as she stays in the shadows and watches the warrior from a distance.

The injured warrior lets out a cry of pain that shakes the bird from their nest, but the violet does not finch. She watches him from the distance as he stumbles on a path that he is not clear on. She steps from the shadows for a moment, the sunlight gives her strength that she needs.

The warrior stares at her as if he is having an illusion. How can such a thing exist? He thinks to himself, but then quickly, the violet jumps into the shadow, her heart thumps against her chest. Why does he act in such a way? She asks herself. The violet sighs and continues to watch of the lost warrior.

There is a Red Rose that grows in the forest. It's mysterious, wild beauty captivates all. She is a proud rose, and she knows that she is well worth. Her thorns are sharp, and whoever is pricked by them, are stun into her spell. She knows no other flowers, for she is the Queen of the Red Rose.

The injured warrior stumbles on, only glimpses into the shadows, thinking he sees that violet, but then shakes his head. He is a warrior, and a warrior moves with fast speed and accepts no pain. Confusion builds in his mind. He wants to stop and rest, but he has a home at the other end of the forest that he must return.

The violet begins to shake in fear as they approach the Red Rose. Her petals shake with nerves; she cares too much for the warrior. But then why would a warrior care for a simple violet? A violet who he can not see, nor hear? A violet who grows in the shadows of the trees?

A shiny object catches the warrior. He walks faster, and he feels his heart pump at the base of his throat. It's something powerful he approaches, this he is certain.

The Red Rose stares off into the distance, a beautiful light gleams on her. She sees another man, another prize. The queen studies him as he approach. She glows with approval; this man she must have.

The violet gasps as she sees the warrior fall under the seductive spell. For another moment, she jumps from the shadows, and whispers in his ear, don't. Don't go. But alas, he pays no heed. For he is a lost warrior, and she is just a violet. Just a plain violet.

He reaches his hand for the Red Rose. The violet feels her heart stop and crumble. She watches him slowly loose his color, his brilliant, warm, color. His dark eyes become a dull gray, his face sunk into death's mask. The Queen of the Red Rose smiles in triumph. This man is hers, and hers alone to keep.

The violet sits in the shadows and watches at the warrior whom she cares for. Such an evil has taken his features, she almost does not recognize him. Yet, when the hawk calls his name, or when the warrior stands alone at the silver creek, the violet knows the true warrior is alive. When he is ready to walk out of this forest, the violet will show him the way out, but for now she will wait.

She will wait.