A gray leaping form joined them from behind.

Another followed.

Two came in from the side, and Kazan's solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack.

Numbers grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter.
Four--six--seven--ten--fourteen, by the time the more open and wind-swept part of the plain was reached.
It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters.

Gray Wolf was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders.