There was almost distress in his restlessness as he hovered about the mouth of the cavern.

A last time he went to Neewa, and then he started alone down into the valley.
He was hungry, but on this first day after the storm there was small chance of him finding anything to eat.

The snowshoe rabbits were completely buried under their windfalls and shelters, and lay quietly in their warm nests.

Nothing had moved during the hours of the storm.
There were no trails of living things for him to follow, and in places he sank to his shoulders in the soft snow.

He made his way to the creek.