He had almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill that was his first knowledge of love.

And now it was a man who was driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest.
He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke.

For a time he had been filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it.

At last he was free of men.

He could detect nothing that reminded him of their hated presence in the air.