Devon couldn't figure out the color of her eyes.

He initially would have guessed

that they were green, but the more he looked at them he almost wanted to say they
were a golden yellow. Then there were the flashes of red and orange that seemed to
be streaked throughout them. It was almost as if her eyes were made of opal with
the sun constantly glinting off of them and bringing out more color. They were
definitely the most unusual pair of eyes he'd ever seen.
Sometimes it's simply better to ignore the haters. That's the lesson that Tom's dad
had been trying to teach him, but Tom still couldn't let it go. He latched onto
them and their hate and couldn't let it go, but he also realized that this wasn't
healthy. That's when he came up with his devious plan.
The spot was perfect for camouflage. At least that's what she thought when she
picked the spot. She couldn't imagine that anyone would ever be able to see her in
these surroundings. So there she sat, confident that she was hidden from the world
and safe from danger. Unfortunately, she had not anticipated that others may be
looking upon her from other angles, and now they were stealthily descending toward
her hiding spot.
She sat in the darkened room waiting. It was now a standoff. He had the power to
put her in the room, but not the power to make her repent. It wasn't fair and no
matter how long she had to endure the darkness, she wouldn't change her attitude.
At three years old, Sandy's stubborn personality had already bloomed into full
view.
I recollect that my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall
walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at
noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of my
own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around and was prolonged and
reverberated by the angry echoes.