stubborn. {solo}

RIVEN FOWLEY

Wiley was getting on my nerves again. Today he had managed to leave the chicken coop open, shatter three dishes around lunch, and not ten minutes ago he'd spilled an entire sack of flour. It wasn't a large sack, but it was almost a quarter of what we had for winter. Mama came at him, explaining how we couldn't afford to lose any more food over the winter, Wiley snapped back, and I left. I love my family. I do. But sometimes, I just need a break.

I hurried up to my room and grabbed my little brown satchel. From amongst the papers scattered all over my floor with half-finished drawings, an array of little silver coins that I'd found, and bundles of blue and grey clothing, I pulled one of my sketchbooks and shoved it in the bag along with a charcoal pencil and my knife. It was small and not very sharp, really only good for giving myself a rough haircut and sharpening the pencil. But that was all I needed it for anyway. I threw on a thick, navy blue sweater and grey scarf, shoved my overly large feet into Kennedy's black boots, and hurried out the door.

It closed behind me and I paused. Deep breath in, hold it, let it out. I watched the little puff of steam that escaped my lips as a result. Slowly, it dissipated into the air, and I hopped off the front step. Snow crunched beneath my feet as I walked, and a slight wind nipped at my fingers. I tossed the satchel over my shoulder and quickly shoved my hands into my sweater pockets. Inclement was a good word for the day.

Inclement. Adjective. Unpleasantly cold or wet.

Well, it would be a good word, if I had been slightly more displeased with the temperature. But to be perfectly honest, I didn't mind the cold that much. So long as I didn't get frostbite it was okay.

I set off at a brisk pace along the road, my grey-blue eyes intent on the spot a few feet in front of me. I suppose most people would look straight ahead, but that doesn't really help me, since everything looks like little blobs of varying colors and shades. My hearing is fairly good though, and so I picked up on the sounds of a braying donkey before I ran into it.

I looked up, mildly surprised. What was a donkey doing out in the street? I passed by horses a lot, but as far as I could remember, I had never seen a donkey walking along the side of the road like it belonged there. Well, this one didn't exactly look pertinent either.

Pertinent. Adjective. Relevant or applicable to a certain matter.

That was a good word too. Perhaps not perfect for what I wanted to use it for, but at the time I deemed it good enough.

Quite suddenly I snapped away from my train of thought, focusing in on the situation at hand. Yes, there was a donkey. I'd established that. A girl, too, kind of pretty-looking, with short brown hair and a concerned look on her face. She was taller than me, but that was a given. Everyone in the world was taller than me.

"You know it doesn't understand you, right?"

The words were out in the open before I thought them through. A small hand flew to my mouth and covered it, eyes wide and hopefully apologetic. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I uh..." I trailed off and bit my lip, my hand moving to nervously twist around a stray piece of black hair. A short, indecorous laugh escaped me.

Indecorous. Adjective. Not in keeping with good taste and propriety; improper.

A good word, but oh gosh, I was making the situation worse now, wasn't I? And as far as I could tell, the donkey hadn't calmed down. "Of course, your tone of voice, it understands that I guess." I mumbled, half talking to myself. I shook by head and glanced up, focusing more on the girl's ear than her eyes. "Do you need help? I don't have a donkey, I uh, I don't really know what to do."