Before he can decide what to do about his visitor, the lowpitched whining rises to
a snarl. There is a thud as something incredibly heavy hits the door ... draws back
. . . hits again. The door trembles in its frame, and a puff of snow billows in from
the top.

Arnie Westrum stares around, looking for something to shore it up with, but before
he can do more than reach for the flimsy chair he has been sitting in, the snarling
thing strikes the door again with incredible force, splintering it from top to
bottom .

It holds for a moment longer, bowed in on a vertical line, and lodged in it,
kicking and lunging, its snout wrinkled back in a snarl, its yellow eyes blazing,
is the biggest wolf Arnie has ever seen . . .
And its snarls sound terribly like human words.

The door splinters, groans, gives. In a moment the thing will be inside.
In the corner, amongst a welter of tools, a pick leans against the wall. Arnie
lunges for it and seizes it as the wolf thrusts its way inside and crouches, its
yellow eyes gleaming at the cornered man. Its ears are flattened back, furry
triangles. Its tongue lolls. Behind it, snow gusts in through a door that has been
shattered down the center.

January