IN THE COLDEST NIGHT of the season, well below freezing, and the tawny grasses are stiff with frost. Since dawn we’ve been trekking through a shadowy forest of pine and fir, eventually reaching a wide, arched meadow with views extending to the south and west. Ts’yl?os [pronounced, Ts-eye´-los], sacred mountain of the Tŝilhqot’in First Nation, rises above a sea of ranges and valleys, catching the autumn sun on its barren, snow-dusted flanks.