a full view of the deserted fort. timmons sits on the wagon by himself.
considerable time has passed. dunbar, bundled warmly against the chill of an oncoming storm, and cisco are coming back into camp from a hunting foray. a brace of grouse is slung over cisco's withers.
the spectacular face of kicking bird is staring at something.
dunbar is sitting cross-legged in the grass. his mouth is occupied with chewing. in one hand is a knife, in the other is a chunk of slab bacon. he saws off a slice and extends it, waiting patiently.
six sioux warriors, the escort, are sitting atop their ponies high on the ridge.
wind in his hair and kicking bird are sitting comfortably under the awning, each holding steaming army-issue cups. they are staring straight ahead with a curious expression.
dunbar is watching kicking bird and wind in his hair walk their horses up the ridge to meet the waiting escort. each horse has a gift of coffee and sugar slung over its withers. occasionally, wind in his hair dips a hand into one of the bags and carefully licks each finger.
it's raining. high on a hill, the indian escort waits stoically, horses heads bowed in the drizzle. on the haunches of one of the ponies is a single deer.
old fort sedgewick is just beyond the next rise. dances with wolves eases cisco into a full run.
surrounded by guards, dances with wolves is being walked toward a clump of bushes.
two sioux scouts watch from the brow of a slope above the fort. having spotted dances with wolves, they withdraw.
the wagon is pulling out with an escort of seven soldiers.