Sara reached in and gently stroked the soft material and sighed dreamily. It was the first time she'd really held a dress since the beating her father...had given her for wearing one. She was tempted to look through the whole lot right where she stood but it was far too dangerous, so she closed the suitcase and hid it in the weeds. She would take her mother's flour to her and then try to slip back for it that evening after her "boy lessons" were done.The sun was just setting as Sara slipped. I didn't need to be a credible old woman, or whatever disguise I wanted to use. I just needed to be unrecognizable as me. I was sure I could handle that.Thinking of handling things reminded me of the way I had handled the three young thugs who tried to steal my purse. I was disappointed that I couldn't think of something better than taking their clothes and sending them home naked. It seemed kind of juvenile. Still, until I had much better control over my strength, I wanted to avoid thumping. More

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