Go and meet your grandfather.
A warmth spread from the center of his body to hands and feet that a moment ago had been icy with fear. Knowing that he had not left his spirit helper behind when he left Saukenuk gave him new confidence.
He held out his hands, palms up. "Let us go to meet my grandfather."
The smile on Pierre's long face mirrored the glow Auguste felt inside himself.
They remounted and rode around to a gateway in the west side of the fence surrounding the house. Auguste, with his newfound strength, endured the curious stares of the men and women gathered at the gate to greet Pierre.
"Look, your grandfather is waiting for you," said Pierre, his voice ringing with joy.
Before a doorway sheltered by its own wooden roof, an old man, a very stout young woman and a plump young man awaited them.
The old man's eyes were blue like Pierre's but they seemed to glitter and to see deeply into Auguste. He was tall and thin and slightly stooped with age. His clothes were simple—a black jacket over a white shirt, and black trousers that tightened below his knees and ended in straps that ran under shiny black shoes. He leaned on a black stick with a silver head.
His heart fluttering with excitement, Auguste got down from his horse and took a tentative step forward. The old man approached him, his expression as fierce as a hawk's. He looked hard into Auguste's face.
The old man spoke to him in a language of the pale eyes, so rapidly that Auguste could not hope to understand him.