Why was she signaling danger to him when it was the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow?
And why did the wolves not come in and feast?
Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf called to him with her whine.

He paid no attention to her, but went on, stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling.
In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was strangely familiar.

It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly.

One of the animals sprang up and approached.

The others followed and in another moment Kazan was in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail.