The temperature plunged that night, and when they arose, the snow, which had been dangerously soft the previous afternoon, had frozen, and they were able to proceed with little danger of avalanche. Because this side of the summit had taken the full force of the wind during the blizzard, the caravan track had little snow on it, and they made good time going down. By midafternoon they passed the last of the snow and rode down into a world of spring. The meadows were steep and lush and speckled with wildflowers bending in the mountain breeze. Brooks, which came directly out of the faces of glaciers, purled and danced over gleaming stones, and soft-eyed deer watched in gentle astonishment as Garion and the others rode by.

A few miles below the snow line, they began to see herds of sheep grazing with witless concentration, consuming grass and wildflowers with indiscriminate appetite. The shepherds who watched them all wore simple white smocks, and they sat on hillocks or rocks in dreamy contemplation while their dogs did all the work.

The she-wolf trotted sedately beside Chretienne. Her ears twitched occasionally, however, and she watched the sheep, her tawny eyes intent.

"One advises against it, little sister," Garion said to her in the language of wolves.

"One was not really considering it," she replied. "One has encountered these beasts before—and the man-things and dog-things that guard them. It is not difficult to take one of them, but the dog-things grow excited when one does, and their barking disturbs one's meal.'' Her tongue lolled out in a wolfish sort of grin. "One could make the beasts run, however. All things should know to whom the forest belongs."

"The pack-leader would disapprove, one is afraid."

"Ah," she agreed. "Perhaps the pack-leader takes himself too seriously. One has observed that quality in him."

"What did she say?" Zakath asked curiously.

"She was thinking about chasing the sheep," Garion replied, "not necessarily to kill any of them but just to make them run. I think it amuses her."

"Amuses? That's an odd thing to say about a wolf."

"Not really. Wolves play a great deal, and they have a very refined sense of humor."

Zakath's face grew thoughtful. "You know something, Garion?" he said. "Man thinks he owns the world, but we share it with all sorts of creatures who are indifferent to our overlordship. They have their own societies, and I suppose even their own cultures. They don't even pay any attention to us, do they?"

"Only when we inconvenience them."

"That's a crushing blow to the ego of an emperor." Zakath smiled wryly. "We're the two most powerful men on earth, and wolves look upon us as no more than a minor inconvenience."

"It teaches us humility," Garion agreed. "Humility is good for the soul."

"Perhaps."