Woven
into her being was the memory of countless crimes he and his had
perpetrated against her ancestry. Not in a day nor a generation were the
ravaged sheepfolds to be forgotten. All this was a spur to her, pricking
her to retaliation. She could not fly in the face of the gods who
permitted him, but that did not prevent her from making life miserable
for him in petty ways. A feud, ages old, was between them, and she, for
one, would see to it that he was reminded.
So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and maltreat
him. His instinct would not permit him to attack her, while her
persistence would not permit him to ignore her. When she rushed at him
he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked away
stiff-legged and stately. When she forced him too hard, he was compelled
to go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to her, his head turned
from her, and on his face and in his eyes a patient and bored expression.
Sometimes, however, a nip on his hind-quarters hastened his retreat and
made it anything but stately. But as a rule he managed to maintain a
dignity that was almost solemnity. He ignored her existence whenever it
was possible, and made it a point to keep out of her way. When he saw or
heard her coming, he got up and walked off.
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