Older Jacob had told many tales by the fire, some true, others embellished by the imagination of a man who loved a good narrative. Behind him, he heard the sound of someone falling. He turned to see a young woman on her knees in the sand, too weak to continue. Before he could react, Storm Spirit was already there, lifting her with surprising gentleness. He carried her on his shoulders without apparent effort, though Ryder noticed the tremor in his legs.

Even the strongest warriors were at their limit. We must hurry, Great Bear said in broken English, approaching Ryder. Hours, maybe three. After that, he didn't finish the sentence. It wasn't necessary.

Ryder gently spurred his horse, accelerating the pace as much as he dared without leaving the weakest behind. The eagle rocks were closer now, rising majestically against the ruthless blue sky. From this distance, the illusion was perfect. wings extended, head bowed, as if the stonebird eternally watched over the desert. When they finally reached the base of the formation, Ryder dismounted and studied the rocks intensely. The sun was nearly at its highest point.

According to his grandfather's story, the eagle's shadow would point the way at exact noon, but the sun was not yet in position. "We have to wait," Ryder said, pointing upward. Great bear's expression darkened. Storm spirit, who had left the woman under the scant shade of a giant cactus, approached with furious steps. He spoke rapidly, his voice laden with accusation.

He pointed at the sun, then at the thirsty children, then at Ryder. He says, you have brought us here to die. Great bear translated with a tired voice. He says that while we wait, death finds us. Ryder kept calm, although his own heart pounded hard.

"Tell him that if we move now without knowing where to go, we will surely die." "This is a gamble, I know, but it is the only one we have," Great Bear translated. Storm Spirit spat in the sand at Ryder's feet, a clear insult in any culture. But he didn't leave. He stayed there, arms crossed, watching every move the cowboy made.

The minutes dragged like hours. Ryder watched the eagle's shadow move with agonizing slowness across the sand. The children no longer cried, a silence that was a thousand times worse than any wailing. Some of the women sang low songs that Ryder didn't understand, but whose meaning was universal. Prayers pleased to the gods for a miracle.

A baby began to convulse in its mother's arms. The woman screamed, a sound of pure desperation that chilled everyone's blood. Great bear ran to her. He took the little one in his arms, rocking him urgently. The baby's lips were blue.

Now, shouted Storm Spirit, pointing at Ryder with fury. There is no time left. Ryder looked up. The shadow was almost in position. Almost.

But the baby made the decision for him. Ryder took out his canteen, the last water he had left, and handed it to Great Bear. For the child, just a few drops on the lips. Great Bear looked at him with surprise. Then, with something akin to respect, he carefully moistened the baby's lips.

The little one coughed, then began to cry weakly. It was the most beautiful sound Rider had ever heard in his life. The mother took the crying child, whispering thanks that Ryder didn't need to understand. Storm Spirit watched the scene, his expression unreadable. For a moment, something changed in his eyes, but the distrust quickly returned.

The shadow, great bear said suddenly, pointing. Ryder turned. The stone eagle now cast its shadow perfectly toward the east like a dark arrow on the bright sand. It was time. He began counting steps from the base of the rock, following the line of the shadow.

10, 20, 30. His heart beat faster and faster. 40 50 He stopped. In front of him there was only more sand and scattered rocks. Nothing.

There was nothing. A murmur ran through the group. Stormspirit let out a bitter laugh and began walking toward Ryder with clearly hostile intentions. But Ryder did not give up. He knelt, beginning to push aside the sand with his hands.

It had to be here. It had to be. His fingers touched something. Stone, but not natural stone. Work stone carved by human hands.

Help me, he shouted. Great bear and several others ran to him. Together they began to dig, removing sand that had accumulated over who knows how many years. Soon they revealed a structure, rocks arranged in a circle, sealing something. Storm Spirit joined them, his curiosity overcoming his hostility for the moment.

They worked feverishly, moving stones so heavy that it took three men for each one. Finally, the last stone moved. A bubbling sound came from below. Then, as if the earth itself sighed one with relief, water began to spring forth. It wasn't a dramatic fountain, nor a geyser.

It was a constant, beautiful flow of crystalclear water that quickly filled the space between the rocks, forming a small pool. The silence that followed was absolute. Then, chaos erupted. People threw themselves toward the water, some crying, others laughing hysterically. Mothers carried their children.

The young helped the elders. The sound of water being drunk, of hands submerged, of shouts of joy filled the desert air. Ryder stepped aside, letting them drink first. He sat on a rock, his legs trembling with relief. He had done it.

Old Jacob had told the truth. Great bear approached, his face still dripping with water. He said nothing, simply placing his hand on Ryder's shoulder and squeezing. The gesture said more than a thousand words. Even Storm Spirit Hunt watched from a distance with a different expression.

It wasn't friendship, not yet, but the pure hostility had disappeared, replaced by something more complex. Ryder smiled to himself. 40 lives saved. Not a bad day's work. But what he didn't know was that this was only the beginning.

The real trials were yet to come. Three days had passed since the discovery of the spring. The Apache camp had come remarkably to life. Children ran and played among the rocks, their laughter bouncing off the stone walls. The women had organized the tents in a circle around the water, creating a small oasis of life in the midst of the relentless desert.

The elders sat in the shade, regaining strength, telling stories of better times. Ryder had planned to leave on the second day. His job was done after all. But something held him back. Perhaps it was the silent gratitude in the people's eyes.

Perhaps it was the way the children had started following him, curious about this strange white man who had saved their lives. Or perhaps it was simply that. For the first time in years, he didn't feel like a loner wandering without direction. That afternoon, while Ryder prepared his horse to finally depart, a young warrior approached running. Great bear calls you," he said in surprisingly good English.

"It is important, very important." Ryder followed the messenger to the largest tent in the camp. It was an impressive structure, decorated with symbols he didn't understand, but which clearly held deep meaning. Two warriors guarded the entrance, their faces serious, but not hostile. Inside, the tent was more spacious than it appeared from the outside.