He had caught, in the voice of the wolves, the ravening note that had made Pierrot cross himself and mutter of the loups-garous, and he crouched down on his belly at the top of the rocky mound.
Then he saw them.

They were sweeping like dark and swiftly moving shadows between him and the forest.

Suddenly they stopped, and for a few moments no sound came from them as they packed themselves closely on the scent of his fresh trail in the snow.

And then they surged in his direction; this time there was a still fiercer madness in the wild cry that rose from their throats.

In a dozen seconds they were at the mound.