Usually he was in his windfall at dusk, but this afternoon a great and devouring loneliness had held him on the trail.

The spirit of Kuskayetum--the hand of the mating-god--was pressing heavily upon him; the consuming desire of flesh and blood for the companionship of other flesh and blood.

It burned in his veins like a fever.

It took away from him all thought of hunger or of the hunt.

In his soul was a vast, unfilled yearning.
It was then that he came upon Oochak.