It was filled with many things, of which Kazan and Gray Wolf were not the most important.

The monsters he had seen on the moonlit plot of sand had roused in him a new kind of caution, and the one greatest instinct of beasts--the primal understanding that it is the strong that prey upon the weak--was wakening swiftly in him.

As yet he quite naturally measured brute force and the menace of things by size alone.

Thus the bear was more terrible than Kazan, and the moose was more terrible than the bear.
It was quite fortunate for Baree that this instinct did not go to the limit in the beginning and make him understand that his own breed--the wolf--was most feared of all the creatures, claw, hoof, and wing, of the forests.

Otherwise, like the small boy who thinks he can swim before he has mastered a stroke, he might somewhere have jumped in beyond his depth and had his head chewed off.
Very much alert, with the hair standing up along his spine, and a little growl in his throat, Baree smelled of the big footprints made by the bear and the moose.