A drabble inspired by the following WOW: Write on Wednesday prompt from newlywrittenbooks .

Prompt
Write in 167 words what happens next, using this prompt:
"You stumble upon a tomb bloom flower."

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The early morning predawn light, just beginning to extend its rosy fingers in the briefest whisper of the welcome dawn, fades into oblivion as the flower's amber glimmer, a magnet to your night-weary human eyes, captures your rapt attention. Your curved bow, ready for the hunt, falls to the carpet of grass beneath your feet, and your empty hand extends to the bloom.

Closer.

Nothing more than a flitting whisper, yet you pause.

Closer.

What of the way home? The sentiment echoes in the back of your mind for only a moment as your gaze pivots back to the glowing blossom, its amber now edged in a gently pulsing lemon-gold.

Closer.

If you possessed wisdom beyond your age, you would turn back, for you would possess the knowledge of long-dead ancestors: that the blooms signify the haunting of a faerie race long gone. But alas, you do know nothing of the faeries' demise, their rage, their need for vengeance against the humans who ensnared them.

Closer.

All you know is the blossom.

Closer.

So you touch it.