With a suggestive gesture and a hunch of his shoulders he nodded toward the pack, just as they were about to start.
"If you thought I tried to kill you night before last why didn't you set your wolves after me, Bram--as you did those other two over on the Barren north of Kasba Lake?
Why did you wait until this morning?
And where--WHERE in God's name are we going ?" Bram stretched out an arm.
"There!" It was the one question he answered, and he pointed straight as the needle of a compass into the north.

And then, as if his crude sense of humor had been touched by the other thing Philip had asked, he burst into a laugh.

It made one shudder to see laughter in a face like Bram's.

It transformed his countenance from mere ugliness into one of the leering gargoyles carven under the cornices of ancient buildings.
It was this laugh, heard almost at Bram's elbow, that made Philip suddenly grip hard at a new understanding--the laugh and the look in Bram's eyes.

It set him throbbing, and filled him all at once with the desire to seize his companion by his great shoulders and shake speech from his thick lips.