The Spirit Path Read Free Page B

cave shrouded in darkness and mystery.
    He took another deep breath, for courage. He had done all that Heart-of-the-Wolf had commanded. He had not eaten for one full day. He carried no weapons, he wore no coup feathers in his hair, nor did he wear his bear claw necklace.
    Clad only in a deerskin clout and moccasins, his hair falling over his shoulders, he took his first step into the cave, which was cut into the side of the hill.
    For a moment, Shadow Hawk stood just inside the entrance letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, which seemed blacker than the night. He had expected the cave to be musty and damp; instead it was cool and sweet-smelling.
    He took four steps, his moccasined feet whispering over the ground, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He had known fear before, but nothing like the nameless anxiety that brought a fine sheen of sweat to his brow.
    Reminding himself that Heart-of-the-Wolf had entered the cave and survived to tell the tale, he took four more steps, and then four more before he stopped, deep in the heart of the cavern.
    Removing a small deerskin bag from his belt, he reached inside and withdrew a handful of corn pollen, scattering a small amount to the east, the west, the north and the south, to the Great Spirit, to Mother Earth. When that was done, he poured the remainder back into the bag, then sat down facing east.
    The cave’s darkness closed around him, so thick he could almost touch it. Head high, his body tense, he faced the east wall of the cave, silently beseeching the Great Spirit to grant him a vision that he might obtain the knowledge that Heart-of-the-Wolf required to lead the people through the coming year.
    Over and over again he uttered the same prayer. He lost track of time. Indeed, time might have ceased to exist. The darkness seemed to have a life of its own, moving over his bare skin like a caress, its touch probing, testing, challenging.
    Hands clenched, Shadow Hawk stared toward the east wall, all his thoughts and energy focused on the future.
    Slowly, so slowly he thought he must be imagining it, a faint light began to glow on the face of the cave and at the same time images began to appear within his mind, images that grew stronger as the darkness within the cave seemed to grow thicker, heavier, until he thought he could feel it sitting beside him, an entity with a life force of its own.
    In the back of his mind he heard Heart-of-the-Wolf’s voice warning him to concentrate on the future, only the future.
    Shadow Hawk shook off the fear crowding his heart as the glowing light and the images in his mind grew more distinct, and now he saw the Lakota village clearly in his mind’s eye. He saw his own lodge and that of Heart-of-the-Wolf. Snow covered the ground, the sky was gray and lowering. It was the winter camp in the Black Hills, he thought, surprised. The images seemed to fill the cave now and he seemed to be a part of it. He felt the cold wind, inhaled the scent of smoke and roasting meat. He shivered as it began to rain, but the rain was blue and dry and wherever the rain touched the snow the flakes were stained with crimson.
    Startled, Shadow Hawk recoiled, then gasped as he felt something warm and wet slide down his right side.
    “A-ah!” he exclaimed, and the images in his mind melted like frost beneath the sun. The light disappeared, the air lost its heaviness, and he felt suddenly empty and alone.
    Rising, Shadow Hawk hurried from the cave, surprised to find the sun climbing over the mountains. The early morning sunlight seemed unusually bright after the darkness of the cave. He felt weak and lightheaded, as if someone had drained all the strength from his body. There was a sudden pain low in his right side and when he looked at it he saw a bright splash of blood just above the belt of his clout. Blood where there was no wound.
    Bewildered, he turned to stare at the cave entrance, wondering what it meant, and she was there, silhouetted in the mouth