The same day that Lucas awoke to the sound—finally, he could hear things—of someone snoring, he popped his head out of the den for the first time. There was a little apprehension in the beginning as he worked up the nerve to approach the dazzling light that shimmered and shook in the doorway, but at last the little dancer gathered up all his courage and his rolls and waddled out into the sun.

He remained within the den's mouth, just barely beyond its opening, and squinted and whined as sunlight lanced into his vision and seared into the back of his head. It hurt the little boy who had never experienced it before, but at the same time, its warmth on his darkening back set his tail a-wagging and his little paws a-prancing, and soon he was doing a fidgety little dance in the entry with his eyes nearly closed against the offending rays.

No one had ever told Lucas that leaving the den was a potentially dangerous thing to do without supervision. Of course, even if someone had told him, he wouldn't understand. How could warm light like this, he might reason, be harmful at all? He pranced in it and squirmed as it warmed his spine, and after a while, his squinting lessened.

Enough for him to make out the brown-and-green patchwork of the grass as it recovered from winter. Enough to make out the stunningly blue sky and the brilliant orb that made his eyes water to look at. And enough to make out the white wolf that was shimmying toward him on his belly. Lucas' baby blue eyes locked onto Xan's red ones and his whole body began to wiggle, from his tail to his ears. Friend! Everyone was a friend to him.

That is, until Laurel came pelting out of the den and overshadowed him. The cub flinched down to the ground and cast a sidelong look up at his mama, who growled viciously at the white wolf. Lucas mustered his own growl, a cheap imitation that was hardly intimidating at all, as his eyes drifted back to the mysterious white stranger.