He was more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of terrible winter--and as he slept he dreamed.
Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of man could make them.

For there was that smell of man, as well as of balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air.

She gazed anxiously and sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept.

Her own gray spine stiffened when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream vision.

She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his long white fangs.