He heard the low hum of the insects, the murmur of running water, the rustle of the wind.

A coyote cut the keen air with high-keyed, staccato cry.

The owls hooted, with dismal and weird plaint, one to the other.

Then a wolf mourned.

But these sounds only accentuated the loneliness and wildness of the silent night.
Wade listened to them, to the silence.