ᎨᏍᏗ ᏂᎦᏓ ᏱᏓᏥᏃᎮᎵ ᎤᏦᎠᏎᏗ ᎤᎶᏒ ᎠᏆᏓᏅᏖᏗ ᎾᏍᎩᏴ ᏚᏙᏓᏋ, ᎯᎠ ᏥᏂᏥᏩ, ᏧᏒᎯᏓ ᏥᏐᎯ ᏥᏅᎬ, ᏕᎦᎦᏙᏍᏛ ᏃᏈᏏ ᏚᏓᏴᎳᏛ ᏕᎦᎶᏍᎬ ᏚᏩᏂᎦᏢ ᏃᎴ ᎦᏓᏅᏖᏍᎬ ᎨᎵ ᏱᏭᎷᏨ ᏭᏕᎵᎬ ᏃᎴ ᏥᏍᎦᎢᎲ ᏱᏭᎷᏨᎾ.
I won’t tell every lone camp and miserable thought that crossed my mind those days except to say I lay awake every night, flat on my back, watching the stars transit through the tree limbs and wondering if Claire had made it to the West and fearing she had not.