They were even lightly embroidered. The stitching was better than she could do ... such tiny holes."I'm coming out."She shrugged the dry fir over her ...ead and settled it past her hips.She was standing there with the girding in her hand..."It's never been worn ... you're not wearing others cast offs..." He grinned, "And it's no trophy." Oh."He arranged the rocks from the cooking pit ... added wood and ducked back in to retrieve a burning brand. Very soon there was a nice fire. He set up the. In that span of silence, the sun had just set behind me, but the farmer planned ahead with just a dim lantern on hand. Finally, the farmer moves. With his right hand clutching the lantern, he grabs me with his left and spins me around. He begins to push me, in between an audacious shove and a suggestive nudge, to guide me toward the hay pile from whence I just came. "Here? Why here?" I question to myself, knowing better than to question the farmer aloud. Still, I must obey.When I reach. More

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