Watching the old woman’s face as she spoke, Walks Alone saw the profound change in her eyes. They were the same huge eyes that he had looked into many times, but in the lingering shadows they rose like lightless moons in a cloudy night sky.
It was more than a mile from the top of the escarpment to the foot of the mountain, and His Spirit Watches had walked most of it at odds with himself. He wanted to go up to look for the boy, who had now been gone for two nights, but he knew it wasn’t permitted. His instincts pulled at him, haunting him with images of what could befall the boy up on the mountain, but his abiding sense of tradition and deep respect for the old ways told him to resist.
Before she left, she stopped to re-read a placard that was mounted high on the wall of a room near the front of the exhibit. She had glanced at it quickly before, but now she took the time to examine its words more carefully. She drew them to her as if pulling them down to the floor, where she could move around them from every perspective.