A day came when the weather moderated, the sun shone, and the snow softened and settled. A warm wind blew from the valleys below. The wind melted the top snow to a depth of several inches. That night the cold returned, the trees popped, and the air was still and brittle. Frost crystals coated the willows along the stream and made brilliant jewelry of every branch and twig rising above the snow. The trees looked like rock candy. The slushy snow froze into ice and the world was coated with a hard armor. And now the gaunt killers could race swiftly over the surface while deer and elk broke through. The killers slaughtered savagely, gorging themselves on fresh meat until they could not run. The coyotes and the owls fed at the tables of the great ones after the hunters had passed on to fresh kills. Lady Ebony and Midnight found the battle to reach the cured grass under the snow much more difficult, now that the ice had come. They were forced to feed later into the night in order to fill their bellies. They pawed and smashed at the thick armor covering the drifts. A full moon shone down, its white light flashing back from the glistening ice. The air was snapping cold as night settled, but Lady Ebony delayed returning to their shelter. They had not fed well that day. She was pawing down the crust, then scooping away the loose snow. The old timber-line buck followed close behind the two horses. He was gaunt and lank. His slender hoofs made poor weapons against the ice. The air was still with the stillness of a dead world. Suddenly Lady Ebony jerked up her head. From the ridge above the mesa came the cry of an old lobo wolf and his bachelor pack. They were racing down from the high barrens seeking prey. The old lobo had not led his sons into the lower country. He was wise and cunning and had kept his pack high above the ranches with their poison sets, their traps, and their guns. He preferred the savage struggle of the snow-locked high country to the sure death lurking in the open valleys. He had ranged above the belt where the deer and the elk wintered and had not led his sons to a kill in more than a week. The slaughter going on lower down the slope had not been shared by these gaunt killers. Lady Ebony listened intently. The pack was running down the ridge above the mesa. She shook her head restlessly and looked across the meadow toward the castle rocks. Turning she took a few steps toward the lower end of the meadow. The timber-line buck grunted protestingly as he floundered out of her way. Midnight kept on digging in the snow. He was still hungry. The snarling of the pack sounded farther down the ridge and Lady Ebony turned back to where Midnight was pawing. The howling rose in savage crescendo. The pack had swerved and was heading toward the meadow.