There was movement! Zeek rolled onto his belly, ears pricked with a high-lifted tail. A wet nose twitched in the cold air, and from it he smelled wolf. And blood. This was Jakten territory, for sure, but there was little to prove the ones living here were part of the pack.

Had he found an invader? Had he found the Big Bad Wolf, warned about by Papa? Zeek wasn't scared, no way, not even a little... but his fur did bristle magnificently as he growled. To show he was bigger and badder, obviously.

Then the Heblo came. Mumbled and small and not at all scary. Nothing this small could have hurt Papa. So it had to be a different kind of stranger.

Zacharie had known that! Of course! Totally! He shook the snow off his fur (though the downpour of flakes would undo that work quickly enough, and several clumps stuck stubbornly to his coat.)

Salut! Qui es-tu? (Hello! Who are you?) He demanded, not quite willing to step closer to the dark mouth of the cave where the one eye peeked out of gathered gloom. But definitely not scared, either! Zeek held his ground!