Late in the evening Silvercoat yawned, stretched, and surveyed the land from his perch on High Rock. The land was bumpy with mossy rocks and small pebbles. All around him was gray and green land. The sea was gray, the sky was gray, the grass was green, the rocks in the grass that were not covered with green moss were gray; Silvercoat's twenty-one wolves were gray.

The sea deposited little waves onto the beach, only these waves were white and frothy, unlike the deep, dark, murky gray water that spread out as far as the eye could see.

This was Scotland. Silvercoat and his pack lived on the coast of Scotland, on the east side which faced the North Sea, the sea which Silvercoat saw now. It was time to hunt.

With a grand howl, Silvercoat awoke the wolves, including his mate he had chosen two years ago who went by the name of Swift-step because she ran at a mostly fast and graceful gait, and therefore was a great huntress. By now the wolves had gathered beneath their leaders' home and meeting place, High Rock.

The pack was the last pack in Scotland, for wolves no longer inhabited the British Isles or Europe, and Silvercoat did not know this. He was lucky, for there was no other place he or any other wolf in the pack would want to live. There was still much game on the coast: deer, rabbit, moose and goat. This was plenty to supply the wolves, and now it was time for supper.

The pack waited anxiously to see what their two leaders would do. Silvercoat gave a sharp yap, and a black wolf emerged from the crowd. This was Hawkspur, the greatest hunter in the pack. Hawkspur was Swift-step's brother. He was strong and cunning, so he and Swift-step made a good team. Hawkspur was an even better hunter than Silvercoat, and he had an honorable place among the two lead-wolves.

Silvercoat, Swift-step, and Hawkspur placed themselves at the head of the horde of animals. The pack lined up behind them, in four straight rows of five. With a quick bark Silvercoat signaled the wolves to start moving. They began at a quick trot. Hawkspur held his head high. He was proud to be in the row of the leaders, proud to be standing beside his sister and brother-in-law. He licked his chops in hunger and thought about the buck he would bring down, by sinking his sharp fangs into the animal's flesh and leaping back again. Then all the other wolves, along with Silvercoat, would jump in and finish it off.

Swift-step began to lead the pack into a faster stride, still a trot but a bit quicker. It had been four days since the pack had eaten a real deer or moose, and so with high spirits they ran up a tiny slope to the place that overlooked the valley, bordered by high mountains. This was the best place to find meat....