He flung back his head, until his black-tipped muzzle pointed up to the stars, and the voice rolled out of his throat.

But it was only half a howl.

Even then, oppressed by his great loneliness, there gripped him that something instinctive which warned him against betrayal.

After that he remained quiet, and as the wolves drew nearer his body grew tense, his muscles hardened, and in his throat there was the low whispering of a snarl instead of a howl.

He sensed danger.