Sleeping in Rowan trees

I remember the night Sleepwalks-With-Elk came to my tent and whispered to me to dress quietly and bring a blanket.

I heard crunchings and gruntings and glimpsed the silhouette of a large, hunched shape in front of the campfire, before Sleepwalks hurried me along.

I won’t easily forget that night.

In the morning when we clambered down from our trees, aching and stiff with cold, everything was just as we had left it: nothing to suggest what had happened. We broke camp, and continued our search minus one member of our party.

There was no need for a burial.