It had been during the first rising of the moon when they had guided their horses into a coulee a little south of their present location. There they had left their horses, the coulee being populated with cottonwoods, pines and numerous stretches of short dense patches of willow trees. They had hobbled their horses deep within the concealment of the many cottonwood trees, the height of these providing some protection against the sharp eyes of an enemy war party. It had been there, also, where the prairie grasses grew abundantly, providing food for their ponies.
"Do you not worry about someone finding the horses while we are gone?" Czanna had asked, her voice no louder than a whisper.
Stands Strong had merely shrugged before responding to her in a like manner, saying, "Only if the horses of an enemy speak to them."
"Speak to them?"
"Ponies talk to one another in many ways: by scent and by horse talk."
"Well, if it happens, perhaps I might help. Since childhood, I have often talked to my horses, and I think sometimes we understand each other."
"Do you now?" he'd asked, eyeing her mysteriously. He’d then smiled before saying, "You continue to surprise me, and I wonder what else I will discover about you besides your beauty and your willfulness."
"Thank you for saying I'm beautiful, but I am not willful."
"Stubborn, then."
"Sir, I am not stubborn either, but if you will only agree to my pact with you, perhaps you will discover much more about me."
His grin at her had been wide and oddly sensual before he'd replied, "I intend to discover all your secrets and secret places without having to place my thumbprint upon your treaty paper."
She had wanted to question him further about what he'd meant by "secret places," but he had already turned his back on her and was moving away. She'd had to run to catch up to him, but if he'd noticed her difficulty in keeping abreast of him, he hadn't mentioned it.
She had been utterly dismayed to learn they would go the rest of the way on foot, or rather on their forearms and outstretched bodies. Why?
As though she had asked the question aloud, he had answered her in a whisper, murmuring, "To walk upright is to invite any wandering warrior to seek us out and kill us. To be a scout means to use concealment as a means to remain alive, and a scout must be, at all times, unseen regardless of the environment. We will be traveling the rest of the way over the tops of these hills—"
"You mean mountains, don't you?"
"Hills." He'd emphasized the word. "We must travel in this way so we will be able to look down into the land and the coulees below. We must observe everything in the environment without ourselves being seen, because we are looking for any sign of an enemy."
"A sign?"
"Áa. Any smoke or its scent, waves of motion in the air, plants moving without wind or game startling suddenly. We are looking for anything out of the ordinary. If we see or smell or detect any of these, it means there is life nearby, and it is probably an enemy war party."
"Why an enemy? Couldn't it be a bear instead?"
"And so, you would consider a bear to be no enemy?"
"Oh. I see your point. But, couldn't it be a friend who starts a fire or who causes the animals to suddenly run?"
"Perhaps. But, if they be friends, why try to remain concealed when they are in Pikuni country? And, not always are 'friends' friendly." He grinned at her. "A scout does not assume that warriors from an allied tribe are always peaceful. He does not take chances. He sees, he inspects and he reports his findings to his chief when next he is in camp."
And so they had crawled, scooted and bellycrawled across the prairie and its hilly apexes. Sometimes they'd been required to descend or ascend a hill to get to the other side, and then, happily, they had walked upright, yet bent over at the hip. Always, they were looking down, looking down, trying to see if there were any indications of a war party.
At present, the sun was still shining down upon the land from its high place almost directly above them. Below them stretched one coulee after another where, at their lower edges, stood a few trees. Much farther in the distance were mountains, some still showing white at their peaks. But, those might have been hundreds of kilometers away. Yet, whether there were enemy warriors roaming about in the deep coulees or not, it was a beautiful sight to feel the warmth of the sun. Low green buttes rose up here and there on the ground below them, some closer to hand and showing off a tall bush or two.
Although it seemed to her that they had ridden or crawled well over fifty kilometers in the night, she knew it wasn't true. Perhaps they had ridden ten kilometers at the most.
According to Stands Strong, they were now close to Grass Woman Springs, and even though he pointed toward it, she still couldn't see it. It was a famous place, and Stands Strong had regaled her with stories of it when they had rested, those short breaks being too few in Czanna's opinion.
But, Stands Strong had kept her entertained, regaling her with many of the tales and legends of Grass Woman—his almost-uncle, Eagle Heart, having heard the stories from his father, who had known Grass Woman personally. It was at this particular sulfurspring where Grass Woman— known to Czanna as Sacagawea—had cured an illness which had threatened her life while she had been journeying with her husband, her baby and the white men. Czanna had found it fascinating to hear the stories as related to her by Stands Strong, if only because the tales had been told by Sacagawea personally.
But, these little respites for rest were quite few since she and Stands Strong were on a mission to determine if the spring were free of enemy warriors. So far, they had not seen any sign of an enemy.
Oddly, since beginning this adventure with Stands Strong, Czanna had begun think of herself as "Stands Strong's woman," though she didn't really merit the status since they were not married and since she did not intend to marry him. Although Stands Strong had made references to her becoming his woman many times during their rests, they were yet to tie the knot in any way, be it a mere romance or marriage. Indeed, there had not been the opportunity to do more than ride hard in the beginning of their expedition, and then, having secured their horses, to sneak over the grassy and rocky landscape.
Though her arms were protesting the uncomfortable position of crawling through numerous bushes and over uncomfortable rocks, there was another aspect about this journey she hadn't expected: she felt happy.
