Page 61 of The Spirit of the Wolf

Taking her hand in his own, he led her to the water.

They squatted next to the stream, and Grey Coyote, picking up her hand, directed it to the different textures of the soil, asking her to identify each one. “What do you feel here?”

“Mostly sand,” she replied.

“This is true. There is much sand, and sandstone. You see it in the cliffs. But is there anything else?”

“Hmmm… Well, there’s dirt and clay.”

“Hau, there is dirt and clay. And do you see this clay is the same color as the soil, and that it is also the same shade as the dry, golden grass?”

“Hmmm…” she murmured, hesitating. “Yes, I guess I can.”

“Waśté. We will paint our bodies with this clay.” He eyed her with a fair degree of wariness, as though he expected her to suddenly burst into flames. “I cannot say enough how important it is for a scout to remain as invisible to his environment as possible. Now, in order to paint yourself with mud, you must first strip down to only the barest necessities of clothing.”

At first Marietta laughed, certain he was jesting. But when he remained solemn, she said, “Surely you are making a joke.”

“I am not,” he assured her quietly. “You must strip away most of your clothes. I will do so also, although I do not wear as many as you.”

“But—”

He held up his hand. “Consider this. When scouting, one will be trudging through swamps and valleys, bushes and brambles. Clothing can snag, can tear, and if your clothes are also excessive, they will burden you. If you continue to wear a dress as big as this one”—he touched its cloth—“it will hinder you. It might also catch on branches or pricks, and will leave a trace of you behind for even a neglectful warrior to see, and, because of this, he could follow you.”

“Oh. Of course. I begin to understand.” She looked away from him awkwardly. “But there is one part of this you have failed to consider…”

He raised an eyebrow.

“And this is that every single bit of cloting I am wearing is a necessity.”

His look at her was amused. “Perhaps this is so in the white man’s world, but the kind of clothing you are wearing is not useful here on the prairie, and particularly not if you wish to look as though you are a part of the environment. Come, it will be a great pleasure for me to help you remove your clothes one by one—and we will discover what your basic necessities are...unless you wish to go naked.” His grin at her was full of mischief. “I would not object to this.”

She wagged a finger at him, smiling, and she started to respond in kind, but suddenly Grey Coyote froze mid-action, brought up his gaze to scan his environment, and before she could say a word, he placed a finger over her lips. Motioning her to silence, he came down on all fours, put his ear to the ground and lay there for a good few minutes. She followed him down, resting on her knees.

Before long he sat up, looked at her, and said under his breath, “A war party approaches.”

Instantly, her eyes went wide and her stomach dropped.

She didn’t doubt him. Why would she? If the man were attempting to teach her how to perceive motion and objects at a distance, it would surely follow that he must, himself, have such an ability.

She asked quietly, “How far away are they?”

He didn’t answer.

Marietta quickly scrutinized the gully, looking for a possible escape. What had once seemed a haven, now appeared a prison. This land was dry, barren. The cliffs were of sandstone, with little to no vegetation. There wasn’t even a good cave in them. Literally, there was nowhere to hide.

True, there were bushes and scrub brush along the stream, but most of these were small, and those that were of a larger variety were full of thorns. Worse, it was the early part of the day. There wasn’t even a shred of darkness to conceal them.

She glanced toward Grey Coyote, but though he seemed alert, he did not appear to be frightened or concerned. On the contrary, he looked vigilant, determined.

Because they were still on their knees, he motioned her to crawl in close to him. In her fright, she plunged forward quickly, but he motioned her to stop, then coaxed her to approach him as slowly as possible.

“Remember, movement can be sensed by an alert scout,” he explained.

She gave him one brief nod then carefully crawled toward him. When she was well within his ability to reach for her, he took her in his arms.

Placing his lips to her ear, he whispered, “No matter what happens, you are not to cry out, do you understand? We must hide. It will not be a comfortable spot I will choose, but it will be a good cover, and it should be effective. Are you ready?”

Too scared to speak, she nodded.