I'm hovering over an elderly Native woman in a wintry night dreamscape. The moon has cast a blue hue onto the glistening snow blanket. I float down toward the Grandmother until she and I are one. I/we cover our hands with some kind of sweet salve as we lay down behind a large snow embankment.
I hear the sound of snow being packed underneath running paws getting closer and closer then slowing as they round the snowdrift to our hiding place. The three strong and elegant wolves lick our hands as I realize that we were calling them to us. The wolf spirit is still with me.