Donna leaned comfortably on a soft floor pillow, watching the girl remove blankets from a beaten leather trunk.

 “Jessamine, are you tired? If you are not exhausted, please tell me a little about your country before we sleep.”

“Of course,” said the girl. She lit a small oil lamp, sat cross-legged on the floor, and pulled a basket filled with yarn toward herself. “I will work as we talk, though. I hope you don’t mind; this blanket must be finished before the cold season starts.” She started manipulating a bone-colored, delicately carved crochet hook speedily and efficiently. The hovering light of the little flame illuminated the dark blue blanket magically growing under the skillful hands and brightened Jessamine’s neatly braided, glossy black hair. “You can do...

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