This word is a suggestion I grabbed from a 365 Day Photo challenge that I am going to use for writing instead of photos.
The sun washes her face, warming her cheeks. They turn crimson from the heat and her freckles become more pronounced. The wind dances above her, she feels its fingers travel from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. The red plaid blanket she lies on is worn and thin. The frayed edges showing its age and frequent use. The leaves whisper to each other, complimenting the sounds of the birds chirping between them. That’s when she feels it, a small prick at first that turns into burning. She slides her hand along her leg and feels her fingers brush a tiny, fuzzy object. It releases its hold and buzzes passed her ear, the black and yellow body generously plump. She starts to panic as the tiny prick turns red and irritated. She is on her feet and running back to the house without consciously commanding her body to move. The red spot is beginning to break out into multiple red spots, her leg starting to swell to twice its size. She limps toward the house, praying as tears fall down her cheeks. And there in the glade sits a perfectly happy bumble bee. The red blanket attracting its eye, left to blow in the wind, never to feel the warmth of a body again.