ᎾᏍᎩᏴ ᏑᎾᎴ, ᎠᏌᎻᏛ ᏓᏘᎭᏁᎲ ᎤᎨᏓᎵᏴ ᏭᏂᎷᏤ, ᎠᎦᏴᎵᎨ ᎤᏬᏑᎶᏨ, ᎤᏩᏌ ᎦᏂᎩᎵ ᎤᏂᏅᎪᏫᏍᏗ ᎨᏎ, ᏎᏥ ᏒᎭᎵ ᏗᏇᏅ ᏚᎧᎭᏲᏕ ᎠᏲᏓᏌᎲ ᎦᏌᎾᎵ, ᎦᎵᏦᏕ ᏃᎴ ᎠᏫᏌᏅ ᎠᏦᎭᏴ, ᎠᏫᏌᏅ ᏎᎷ, ᏚᏯ ᏃᎴ ᏩᎩᎦ, ᏥᏔᎦ ᏓᎾᏣᎪᏍᎬ ᎣᏂ, ᏩᏚᎵᏏ ᎠᏂᏃᎯᎵᏙᎲ ᎦᏁᏍᎬ, ᎣᏍᏓ ᏧᏂᏍᏙᏰᏛ ᏒᎦᏔ ᏃᎴ ᏆᎾ ᏕᏧᎬ, ᏓᎾᏓᏔᏍᎬ.
That morning, Lieutenant Smith’s party had ridden up a green cove, their first mission of the day to roust out an old woman, a widow living solitary in a cabin with tied bundles of sage hanging stems-up under the eaves of her porch to dry, the cabin hemmed in by fenced garden plots, corn and beans and squash growing in her fields, chickens scratching in the yard, straw skeps humming with bees, carefully pruned apple and peach trees busy putting out fruit.