..”She looked at me and then moved closer and tilted my face, “you are not a half breed.”I shook my head and she looked after her father, “and...father wants you to bed me?”I cleared my throat, “I am not ... I have never...”She smiled and then grinned and sat on the bench beside me, “good. I am Kara and I am a half breed. I fletch arrows and do carving on iron wood bows.”She reached out and began to share my meal and I pushed it between us, “I am Michael Jameson.”After we finished I was not sure. .anger. There was one thing I never sensed in him thatconsumed me; fear.One cold winter's day I observed something that was not all that unusualin our neighborhood; four men gathered and trying to look inconspicuous.Then, down the street, I saw him coming down the street; the collar ofhis CPO coat turned up against the wind and his hands in his pockets. Ashe approached I quietly utter only a few words. His reply was simply"Thanks".His voice was so deep that it belied his age. That deepness. More

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