And she turned away her face and was silenced. And thus she accepted him. She Wolf took the fish and went aside to clean them.
“It will be in the spring,” said Sunrise, “when the earth is soft for digging and the leaves are green on the trees. Are you willing?”
She turned and looked him full in the face.
“I am willing,” she said. Her eyes clung to his and his to hers. He tried to speak but his voice choked in his throat, and for the first time in his life, desire like a flame swept him from head to heel. And mingled with the desire was a nameless shrinking and terror—a shrinking from himself and a terror of Dawn.
He mastered himself and spoke in a thick voice.
“Dawn,” he said, “after this I will hunt for this cave, and collect wood for this fire, but I will not live here any more.”
He rose and went silently into the forest.
“Where is he going,” asked She Wolf from a distance.
“He is not going to live in this cave any more,” said Dawn. “But he will come every day and bring us meat and wood for the fire.”