For a mile or two they followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail.

Gray Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain.

Only her love for Kazan--and the faith she still had in him--kept her that near.
At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail.

With the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion which nothing could quite wipe out--the suspicion that was an inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf.

Gray Wolf whined joyfully when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side.
The "slush" snows followed fast after this.