She had the feeling of being watched.
She glanced over Paul's head, into the inky darkness of the rain, beyond the range of the diminishing fires. She saw nothing.
Then, when the first headlights of the convoy swept around the bend, she glimpsed a gray timber wolf that stood, out of the rain, at the base of a mighty pine tree nearby.
As she watched, the wolf turned and trod away, and vanished into the night.