Summer 1835 – The Better to Look Ye in the Eye

The sounds of the river quickly vanished. It could have been miles away rather that a hundred paces into the field. The grasses closed behind me and reached above my head and their roots tangled my feet. I stilled myself and stood like the weeds around me. I closed my eyes and looked for the North. Yes, that sense was still good. 

To know the points of the compass was useful but it would not find me my companions. The prairie had swallowed their trail.