They were the big northern owls swooping down to investigate him, and if he had been a rabbit instead of a wolf dog whelp, his first night under the moon and stars would have been his last; for unlike Wapoos, the rabbit, he was not cautious.
Gray Wolf did not watch him closely.

Instinct told her that in these forests there was no great danger for Baree except at the hands of man.
In his veins ran the blood of the wolf.

He was a hunter of all other wild creatures, but no other creature, either winged or fanged, hunted him.
In a way Baree sensed this.

He was not afraid of the owls.

He was not afraid of the strange bloodcurdling cries they made in the black spruce tops.