midday
More than once something trembled in his deep chest , rose in his throat , and ended there in a whine . It was the wolf howl , not yet quite born . Food came more easily than voice . Toward midday he cornered a big white rabbit under a log , and killed it . The warm flesh and blood was better than frozen fish , or tallow and bran , and the feast he had gave him confidence . That afternoon he chased many rabbits , and killed two more . Until now , he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at will , even though he did not eat all he killed .