Short story I had no idea where she came from. She was simply there, seated beneath the great oak that ruled our garden. She seemed caught between childhood and adulthood, perhaps fourteen at most. Her face was soft and round, her eyes a shifting green‑blue, alert and trembling like those of a startled animal. When I spoke, she flinched. Her hands flew up to shield her face, then slowly lowered again. “Hey,” I asked gently, “what are you doing here? Did you lose your way?” Sh
