“She had taken to keeping the deerskin covering around her shoulders nowadays, even as they walked. She had grown used to thinking of this journey as a curious adventure, one she would write about if ever she returned to civilization. She only wished she had a journal with her, that she might jot down her observations of the Indian, of the wilderness, of this land. She had never seen anything so beautiful as these plains, these valleys that they traversed, nor had she ever seen anything so wild.... The wind blew incessantly, though it was fragrant with the smell of wildflowers and sage. It whistled around stone-carved hills and whispered across the fields. Sometimes it blew cold, seeming to freeze her to the core; sometimes it felt warm, blowing her hair back as though it were a lover’s caress. The fields were brown here, summer coming late to this prairie. The grass was dry, brittle and crunchy beneath her feet; the hills were rolling, seeming to stretch out forever against a wide blue sky, and always in the distance now were the mountains—snowcapped, majestic mountains.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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