“All of the fear that had edged close to him was gone now. One of the dogs in the lean-to behind him stretched its legs, pressing them against Young Hunter‘s back. He would not think of tomorrow now. He would hold the sweetgrass basket close to his face and smell it; he would enjoy the warmth of his fire, and soon, the taste of his food. It would be enough. For now, it would be enough. Tomorrow he would reach the village of the Salmon People.”