The Shaman woman was at least in her sixties, but she was tall and imposing. Her long, graying hair was tied into two braids that hung down her front. Her eyes, dark and narrowed, glanced over at me briefly as she opened a pouch around her neck. She was muttering words in her native language.
“What is she doing?” I asked my uncle. He stared straight ahead into the open field, his eyes fixated on the old corral.
“She’s breaking the cloaking spell.”
“Isn’t it a different type of magic?”
“The ancient magic she uses is not the dark sort. Her people use the earth’s natural powers and she calls on the wolf goddess.”
I nodded as I began to strip myself of my clothes. The men behind us already shifted behind our own cloaking spell so we could not be picked up in woods just beyond the fi
