Word Count → 328
She rubbed at her brow as she was, once again, asked questions that were both unimportant and rather rude. Chitsa took them in, allowing her blue eyes to close as she waited for the girl to simply shut up. It was almost as if the white child didn't have comprehension of her younger years, of how it was to respect an elder or how it was to interact with a stranger. Whoever had raised her had clearly done a poor job as a parent.
Once the girl had finished speaking, Chitsa allowed a silence to fall over them. It was clear she wanted answers, and the autumn-hued woman found it unnecessary to hold the truth from someone so eager to hear it. Her eyes opened once more. "The fact that others don't mind your questions has no bearing on me; we are not all the same. Some are more tolerant of strange children." Slowly, she rose to her feet, combing her fingers through her hair in her habitual way. "I don't answer your questions because they're rude. You do not know me, and I do not know you; we are only acquaintances, not friends. You are a child. Not only should you keep your incessant questions away from adults, they should never be voiced to strangers — if your parents were real parents, you would have been taught these things." Invisible Mongwau let loose a squawk, fluttering from the ground to join his friend and rest upon her head as she checked the pile of wood used for the pack. "When raised right, pups are very pleasant; My niece offers me much joy, for instance. Sanuye raised her well, and Dawali has taught her well."
With the questions answered, she fell silent once again, pawing through the timber as she mentally calculated the need for more — it was stocked up well enough, but she would have to gather more in the morning, whether her head still hurt or not.
Image courtesy of fras@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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