As she did so she heard a howl, the long wailing howl of a hungry wolf. Goose pimples rose on Morg's arms. The howl came again, rising high over the dusk of the forest. It's nearer, she thought, I'm sure it's nearer. Morg started to run. She could see the hill, but she was still a long way away from safety. She reached the edge of the fields where she had put the sheep just that morning. They were empty now, the sheep all safe in the fort. The howl came again, and then a second and a third. Of course there are more than one, she thought, as she stumbled on. A whole pack. They are following me, they are definitely following me.