Now that he was out of the hole, the effect of the Willow's shot was stirring every drop of wolf blood in his body.

In him there was a growing animosity--a feeling of rage not against any one thing in particular, but against all things.

It was not the feeling with which he had fought Papayuchisew, the young owl.

On this night the dog in him had disappeared.

An accumulation of misfortunes had descended upon him, and out of these misfortunes--and his present hurt--the wolf had risen savage and vengeful.
This was the first time Baree had traveled at night.