A man came out.

Kazan's reddened, snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge.

He heard his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan.

In another lull of the wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, half-smothered voice of baby Joan.
A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest.

He was exhausted.
His strength was gone.