Understanding The Misunderstood [Private/Mature]

Shaina Morrison was rumored to be the most aloof, secretive, self-dependent person in the whole county. She held a massive hundred-acre farm that she ran all on her own. She was seen maybe two or three times every month, and then it was only to get the supplies that she needed from the farm. Out of the town-collective, people could say that between them all, they had only heard her say about two hundred words total. She had been like that ever since Old Monty Morrison, the man who found her abandoned and adopted her, had died, and Shaina had inherited the farm.

A woman of about five feet six inches gave the tiniest of grunts as she tossed the last bale of squared hay into the back on her truck. Blowing a lock of hair back from her face, she walked around and got into the driver side of the truck. Cranking up the vehicle, she started down the main street that ran through town, on the way back to her farm. Tracer had a limp in his right hind leg, that had her worried that something might be wrong with the gelding Paint's hoof itself. She was intent on getting home within the next twenty minutes, but the sight of a car at the corner where she needed to turn off to, threw that time window out.

Stopping the truck about four of its own lengths behind the car, the strawberry-haired woman got out of her truck. Squinting from under the brim of her hat, she noticed that the car had a complete flat tire. Locking her truck, she started towards the car. "You seem to have a flat tire. The town is ten miles back that way, but I can help you if you need it." She said as she caught sight of the driver's back.