But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, saturating himself with the scent of it.
That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new comrades of the great plain.
The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen lake.

The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile away.

The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the kill, and slowly closing in.
With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight.

He was directly in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning speed.

Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, and the leader on that side met her with open jaws.