A Dry Niche for Night

I stepped past the ponderosa bark barrier and returned into the quiet hollow of our rock shelter. Inside, the gray wolf figure waited motionless against the limestone wall, its sculpted flank catching the cool blue dusk. Kneeling on the swept slate floor, I slipped the cedar-wrapped milkweed bundle from my pouch. Just above the flat river stone where my tools rest, a natural pocket in the limestone remained dry and sheltered from the canyon draft. With deliberate care, I nestled the fiber-bound cylinder snugly into the crevice. In Lakota, guarding dry tinder against damp night air is part of *ileya*. Settling against the wolf's shoulder, our dwelling felt sound and complete.