Misha’s grandfather was not well educated, but he wrote this letter for Misha to take with her after he died.




My Dear Friend Gabriel,


It has been a long time since last we met, and I reagret having not kept in touch with you more often. I hope that this letter finds you and that you are well.


The little girl deliviring this letter is named Misha. She is my pride and joy and I ask one last favor of you as a friend to a friend. My time grows short and soon I will pass on, leaving Misha with no one to take care of her. I am asking that you take her under your wing and proveyede for her what you can. I have sent some money with the child, it isn’t much, but it is all that is left. Misha knows of her past, but you should as well.


Ate years ago, Goldie and I were out in the hills on a walk, like we had always gone on. It was just before we were to turn back and head home that we came across a wicker basket, hidden poorly by an ever green. Inside a baby girl lay sleeping, having clearly been abandonded by whomever had given birth to her. She couldn’t have been more than a week old at most. You know already that Goldie and I were never able to have children, and we couldn’t just leave the poor thing out in the hills to die. We took her home with us and named her Misha, decideing that the day we found her would be her name day.


Goldie died when Misha was five and I was left to raise her on my own. When she was six, very nearly seven, she came across an abandonded wolf pup and brought her home, naming the wolf Kilala. I let her keep the wolf, knocking it would make her happy. Thus, making the animal by her side now, the same as I have just mentioned. Kilala is loyal to Misha through and through and I ask that the two of you try to pass her off as a dog rather than a wolf. You and I both know how city folk can get around animals they think to be wild.


Misha knows how to read and write, but not as much as I would like. My own edumation being so little, there is only so much I could teach her. Yet, she can sew, cook, clean, garden, and even do some minor hunting and tracking. I taught her all I could and sadly can teach her no more. My hope is that she can work for a seam stress or in some other line of work where she will not be bothereded by hungry lecherous men such as we once used to be. I wish only for my little Misha’s happiness and emplore you to do everyting you can for her. She deseerves only the best.


Take care of yourself my friend. We shall see one another again, when the Wheel weeaves us back into the pattern once more.


Your Friend,