No wolves had come.
Or if they have come, he thought, I can't see them. They slip along fogfooted behind the larger trees—that tree or that one—maybe. If they are truly come, my brother Reuben will know and tell me. In time for me to draw my knife. Wolves do understand cold steel, they say....
"Ru——"
The boy turned quickly and came back to him. Ben saw his face fade and brighten; the eyes, improbably large, watched him from a mighty depth. Now that, Ben thought, that is certainly an effect of the new cloud-wrack passing over the moon. How warm it is! he thought—nay, damn the thing, how cold! Nothing's truly warm since Mother died, therefore I was deluded.... "Ru, what's the time?"
"Can't be far from dawn."
"How do you know?"
"I can feel it.... Some kind of shack over there—see it? A hunter's lean-to, that's what it is."
"Looks more like a beast."
"Can't you see the poles? Come on—it's not far."
"Ru, listen!"