from Cormac McCarthy, The Crossing:
They were running on the plain harrying the antelope and the antelope moved like phantoms in the snow and circled and wheeled and the dry powder blew about them in the cold moonlight and their breath smoked palely in the cold as if they burned with some inner fire and the wolves twisted and turned and leapt in a silence such that they seemed of another world entire…Then he saw them [the wolves] coming. Loping and twisting. Dancing. Tunneling their noses in the snow. Loping and rising by twos in a standing dance and running on again…He could see their almond eyes in the moonlight. He could hear their breathe. He could feel the presence of their knowing that was electric in the air. They bunched and nuzzled and licked one another. Then they stopped. They stood with their ears cocked. Some with one forefoot raised to their chest. They were looking at him. He did not breathe. They stood. Then they turned and quickly trotted on. When he got back to the house Boyd was awake but he didn’t tell him where he’d been nor what he’d seen.
buy this book: The Crossing
