Find myself in this barren landscape - planes and these odd brush trees - flat land. 2 native Americans sit beside one another. One is old. There is a fire they hand me a bowl to drink from and I drink. They then both drink, they point to behind me plus tell me I must head west. I stand, but hesitate and turn back, and am told to not be afraid - that is my path. The indicate the black wolf stood beside me and call him ankira. I start walking and when I look back they are still there watching me. One with a eagle head dress I see and he keeps repeating the word trust and just staring into my eyes. He says this when I ask if it is real. The wolf nudges my hand and I see myself walking onwards