Page 71 of The Spirit of the Wolf

He kissed her.

She grinned. “Is this what you had to do?”

“Hau, plus I am going to make a doll out of grass and buckskin.”

“A doll?”

“Hau. But I will need to borrow some of your clothing. Will you let me?”

“Of course. But what are you going to do with it?”

“You will see,” he said. “You will see.”

Her smile at him widened. To her surprise, the danger of what they were about to do seemed…thrilling. In truth, excitement coursed through her.

As though he sensed it, he smiled back at her.

Crawling, slithering across the dim moonlight, they traversed over the prairie toward the enemy’s camp, moving guardedly, fluidly, making no sound. But it was slow going.

Dear Lord. Did all scouts possess the patience of a saint? It would seem to her as though they must.

With every motion taken forward, Grey Coyote dropped back to cover their footprints. Because he was also leading their small party, and because he carried a large grass doll on his back, as well as his own and another bow, the continual need to backtrack soon became tedious and tiresome.

Marietta was not used to being crouched into a rolled-up position for any length of time, nor was she accustomed to squatting, for that matter. She soon found her calf muscles spasming.

But she refused to give in to the impulse to stop, or to turn around and go back the way she had come. She had said she would help; she meant to help.

They had probably crawled over a mile or more when at last they came to a ridge.

Grey Coyote turned to her, brought her hand to his lips and formed the words, “The enemy is over that crest. I will put you in a position so you can see into their camp. Scan it, keep alert, but also train your eyes on me.”

She gave him one brief nod.

“Over there…” he pointed to the west of the hostile encampment, “…is where your friend is tied and guarded. When you look for me, watch for earth that moves—it will most likely be me.”

Again, she inclined her head.

Carefully, he guided her into a place slightly lower than the crest of the ridge, taking much pain with the exact position. Only her eyes and the upper portion of her head were above it.

At last he seemed satisfied. Briefly, he placed the fingers of one hand over his lips, bringing those same fingers to her lips.

It was his way of kissing her.

Then he was gone. He had disappeared over the summit of the ridge and was even now slithering down into the enemy camp. Marietta watched him, yet so fluidly did he shift over the land that after a while, considering how the wind blew about the earth and grasses, he literally did disappear.

Nevertheless, she was determined to watch, and every now and again, she thought she caught sight of him, but she was never certain.

Grey Coyote left, feeling secure in the knowledge that Little Sunset would be safe. To the naked eye, she would simply look like a rock on the ledge.

Though he was aware she hadn’t liked many of the conditions he had forced on her, he’d had no choice but to procure her promise. A scouting mission was a very dangerous affair; it was not an undertaking one did without careful planning.

Slowly executing a belly crawl so it was without sound, he slid down the slight incline toward the enemy. As he did so, Grey Coyote also recited his plan in his mind.

He would skim around the outer line of the enemy camp, even though this area lay exposed and open to the eye. Because no one would expect an attack from that quarter, their guard’s attention would likely be elsewhere.

Inch by slow inch, carefully, Grey Coyote slinked across the ground, edging toward the west, where the woman was held. There was but one sentry posted over her, and this man seemed alert, as though he anticipated an attack.

That this would cause Grey Coyote some difficulty was obvious, since the man would be hard to fool. However, it was not impossible.