They noticed that the strange creatures in the tree began to move
oftener, and to draw their limbs up as if they were growing stiff, and
then their long-drawn howl grew longer and more ferocious than ever; the
game, tired out, would soon drop into their mouths. But it did not, the
two creatures made sounds as if they were again encouraging each other,
and the hearts of the wolves filled with rage and impatience that they
should be cheated so long.
The night advanced; the moonlight faded again and the dark hours that
come before the dawn were at hand. The forest became black and misty
like a haunted wood, and the dim forms of the wolves were the ghosts
that lived in it. But to their sharp red eyes the dark was nothing; they
saw the two beings in the tree do a very queer thing; they tore strips
from themselves, so it seemed to the wolves, from their clothing in
fact, and wound it about their bodies and a bough of the tree against
which they rested. But the wolves did not understand, only they knew
that the creatures did not stir again or make any kind of noise for a
long time.
When the darkness was thickest the wolves grew hot with impatience.
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