.

.
Olva knew that behind him in the storm the Pursuit was again upon him.
That brief respite in the wood had not been long granted him.

The snow choked him, blinded him, his body was desperately cold, his soul trembling with fear.

On every side he was surrounded--the world had vanished, only the thin grey body of his dog, panting at his side, could be dimly seen.
God had not been in the wood, but God was in the storm.

.