He came of a breed of meat- killers and meat-eaters.

His father and mother lived wholly upon meat.
The milk he had sucked with his first flickering life, was milk transformed directly from meat, and now, at a month old, when his eyes had been open for but a week, he was beginning himself to eat meat--meat half-digested by the she-wolf and disgorged for the five growing cubs that already made too great demand upon her breast.
But he was, further, the fiercest of the litter.

He could make a louder rasping growl than any of them.

His tiny rages were much more terrible than theirs.

It was he that first learned the trick of rolling a fellow- cub over with a cunning paw-stroke.