“Look,” she said. “There’s the Big Dipper.”
“Where?” he asked.
She pointed.
“Ah, that is known to the Cheyenne as the Seven Brothers.”
“Seven Brothers?”
“Haa’he, seven brothers and a sister. They escaped from a herd of wild buffalo by climbing a tall tree. But the buffalo tried to knock down their tree, and in defense, the brothers and their sister took refuge in the sky, where they remain to this very day.”
“Hmmm.” She squatted beside him and hugged her knees. “What a wonderful legend.”
“Yes, and there are many more legends I could tell you. Someday I will.”
“Yes. Someday.” She glanced at him, and her eyes widened in some alarm. “Swift Hawk, what are you doing?”
“I am painting myself.”
“With mud?”
He shot her a lopsided grin. “Watch closely and see how this mud will harden on my body. For when it is dry, it is a similar color to the prairie wolf.”
“A prairie wolf? Ah, I see. So by caking mud on yourself, you become a wolf?”
“Haa’he. Watch.”
She did. Indeed, when he painted himself with the stuff—sometimes trading the mud for ash, which was supplied to him by their fire—she could begin to see the transformation. Bending, she put a finger-streak of mud on her arm and watched it as it dried. Interesting. It did actually resemble the color of the wolf.
Meanwhile, Swift Hawk was covering every inch of himselfwith the muck, even going so far as to create wolf ears on top of his head. When at last the deed was done, he crouched next to her, looking, in her estimation, half human, half wolf.
“Do you see how it is done?”
“I do, indeed. But I have a question, for you forgot one thing, I think.”
He glanced at her. “Did I?”
“Yes. And it is something of importance.”
He raised that eyebrow of his.
“It is this: How do I kiss you goodbye?”
“Kiss?”
“Yes, I would not send you out alone on the prairie without a kiss.”
He grinned. Even beneath the disguise of mud and gook, she could discern his smirk. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he opened his arms wide, inviting her in.
“Now, wait a minute. As it is, I have very little clothing with me. I am not about to muddy this blanket.”
“Then take it off,” he said quietly.
“Take it off?”
He nodded. “If we are to say farewell to each other, then let us do it properly…”
No sooner were the words uttered than she dropped the blanket to the ground, uncaring that the soggy earth would muddy it. She stepped toward him and threw her arms around his neck. “When you leave, you will be careful, will you not?”
