He did not observe the cub when he slunk back deeper under the windfall.

He rose up on his feet and stood stiff and tense, unconscious of all things but that thrilling tongue of the hunt-pack.
Wind-broken, his strength failing him, and his eyes wildly searching the night ahead for the gleam of water that might save him, Ahtik, the young caribou bull, raced for his life a hundred yards ahead of the wolves.

The pack had already flung itself out in the form of a horse-shoe, and the two ends were beginning to creep up abreast of Ahtik, ready to close in for the hamstring--and the kill.

In these last minutes every throat was silent, and the young bull sensed the beginning of the end.

Desperately he turned to the right and plunged into the forest.
Miki heard the crash of his body and he hugged close to the windfall.
Ten seconds later Ahtik passed within fifty feet of him, a huge and grotesque form in the moonlight, his coughing breath filled with the agony and hopelessness of approaching death.