“Indian standing at the edge of the trees, bow in hand. It occurred to him, dimly, to look for the wolf It was nosing at the pig’s carcass, no more than a few feet from Jamie, but his father-in-law was paying it no mind at all. He too was staring at the Indian.(…)
"Ian,” he said softly, and a look of incredulous joy blossomed slowly through the smears of mud, grass, and blood. “Oh, Christ. It’s Ian.” “Jamie was waiting in the hall.