She shivered, now that she was once more entirely bare and unprotected from the bitter cold and the wind which howled and whistled over the mountain. ...I hope I will be over these awful mountains and into the southern plains before too long. This is killing me!" she muttered, as she took food and drink from the saddle bags and saw to the sustenance of herself and her equine companion. Her hands blue and stiff with cold and the fine golden hairs on her body standing out vertically in the. .." Then I remembered from my first meeting with Demie that asking real names would probably not be well received. "...should I call you? I'm Tom." I handed her the glass.The woman took the glass, sniffed the contents, and then threw it back, gulping the whole thing in one go. That had been half a glass!As she wiped her mouth and held the glass out again, she said, "Call me...Anya. I am pleased to make yer acquaintance, Tom." That appraising look again.I filled her glass this time, and then we. More

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