But after a time, while the awareness of them continued uncomfortably with him, the hair on his neck remained laid down and he neither uttered a snarl nor bared his teeth.
And when he parted from what had been and which had ceased to be, not like the bush dogs did he whimper and run.

Instead, he trotted along the path at a regular and dignified pace.

When he emerged upon the main path, he found it deserted.

The last refugee had passed.

The path, always travelled from daylight to dark, and which he had so recently seen glutted with humans, now in its emptiness affected him profoundly with the impression of the endingness of all things in a perishing world.