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"I have to go," I said. "I'm starving." Me too," Stephanie said, as she looked at her watch."Do you go to the dinning hall for dinner?" I asked."Where else can I go?" Stephanie said. "Are you asking me to go with you?" No, no, no, no. I was just asking," I stuttered. "I mean, I was just asking."Stephanie giggled. "Okay. Let's go," she said, and started to pack her stuff.While we were heading towards the dinning hall, I noticed that Stephanie was about three inches shorter than me. It was the first time we were both on our feet together."Who do you usually have dinner with?" Stephanie asked me."Sometimes with Pete, sometimes myself," I said. I didn't have many friends and I was accustomed to it."Yea, me too. I usually go with my roommate or other girls on the same floor," Stephanie said.There weren't many people in the dining hall when we got there. Stephanie looked around and couldn't find anyone she knew. We ate together."How long have you been in America?" Stephanie asked, when we. Don't get me wrong, I was taken care of and my parentswould come to see me when they could squeeze it into their schedule but whenthey split up when I was 12, I rarely heard from them and rarely do now even. This isn't one of those stories whereI blame everything on school, society and mum and dad, I'm actually fineand not 'disturbed' through all of this. The boarding school where I wasbasically brought up was great and they gave me a brain and made sure thatmy body was fit. But all-girl schools tend to churn out saints or sluts andI ended up in the half and half camp, slutty mind but too shy and properto actually make myself available. Even worse, my slutty mind was focusedon a couple of 'instructional videos' that the school grudgingly was forcedto show us in lieu of what American schools call 'sex ed'. I'm sure you getthe idea, my creativity when it came to sex was pretty much none but I knewthat I wanted something more than what I'd seen. Once I was out of school, I ended.
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And soon, thought Larissa as she felt the evening frost sting her fingers, soon the snows would come, and then perhaps he would come too.He had come to her last fall. Trekking back to Fort Compton to sell his furs and to shelter for the winter, he had asked whether he might rest awhile. He had stayed nearly a week. In their giving and taking, Larissa had thought they were merely bartering need for need, as he had bartered with Mohawk and Seneca. Only when he left, did her winter truly arrive, and only then did her empty heart discover the cost of their trade. Now her sole comfort was the prospect of his return. So Larissa watched the skies and counted the days, and waited.The first snow arrived a few days later. To the other farmers around Kimberling it was an early, unwanted guest. But Larissa welcomed the snow like an old friend. She busied herself, stabling the horses and stacking logs next to the fire and stove. From the cupboard she retrieved a pair of old silk sheets and laid.

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