Like an old friend returning, my hair grew to my shoulders and covered the mark on my neck. I gained weight and felt more secure in the boundaries of the farm, beginning each morning with a trip to the house to make black tea for us before going to the chicken coop to collect eggs from the squawking hens. I hid my ID card in a birdhouse swinging from the cherry tree, kept my hair in a scarf, and pulled the eyeshadow from the trash pail to darken my eyes. When I was doing chores or eating meals, I sat with the cats in the loft and knitted a set of squares for an afghan. With a scrap of stiff leather, I cut out and sewed a waist holster for my knife and wore it around my thigh day and night. Aura soon birthed a litter of three gray tabbies and I watched them grow from pink wriggling forms in
