Altar of Twilight victory does not make us conquerors

He followed the wolfscent for a while, slowly creasing the mile between them with a dour lope. It was hard to know why he sought the source, when he would likely become disinterested upon finding her company. Wolves were not food, as far as he was concerned, and food was all that mattered to him— as a loner whose only creed now was to survive. He didn't need to think about socializing. Not when food was aplenty.

So then why search? Churchill didn't get to think about this question. The wet wind turned again and he was suddenly caught up in the aroma of a nearby herd. Everything about the wolf changed suddenly, and where before there had been a prancing stag's shadow now crept a lean razor; a low, slinking panther now geared for the hunt.