“Come on Kristina… you looked down, didn’t you? Ok, do what I tell you: I’m pulling the rope very tight, and you are going to relax and sit ba...k in your harness like it was a chair.” Kristina closed her eyes and very slowly lowered her butt until she felt like nothing was moving anymore and she was sitting down in her harness. Somewhat reassured, she shouted: “What now?” “Well, that’s how far you’d fall if you let go of the wall entirely.” Kristina let go of one hand, then the other, grabbing. The long boots, soles worn through and bound with rags, the ragged dolman. She muttered to herself and crossed herself sketchily. This was the hated enemy, the ravisher of Mother Russia. Confusion seized her. She had known this all along, known it from the moment she saw him lying on the path. Why did she now feign surprise? She had seen enough of soldiers in recent times to know, too, that he was a cavalryman and stomach lurched at the knowledge. She wondered why. Now her very being was. More

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