They were, as before, careful to close the door to the cabin. The grass and clover were as good as they had been yesterday. They grazed until mid-morning then decided to go down to the stream for some water. As soon as they reached the bank, they saw tracks in the sand... Wolf tracks. They were thirsty, and needed something to drink, but knew they needed to be quick and watchful.
The creek water was cold and refreshing, and they all drank their fill. When they were satisfied, they started back toward the cabin, Hobie in the lead. By end of the path, at the edge of the yard, Hobie had gotten well ahead of the rest. As he ambled into the grass, Molly saw from further back on the path, through a slight gap in the brush, patches of grey fur moving toward the house at an angle to Hobie's track. Wolves!
Hobie changed neither direction nor gait. He hadn't yet spotted the wolves. Molly, Ben and Sam froze in their tracks. Something was peculiar. Hobie should have been running toward the cabin, or at least running somewhere. He wasn't! Then the wolves came into view in the yard. They were sniffing curiously at the grass, but not pursuing Hobie. He reached the porch and turned to see his friends on the path and his foes in the yard. He looked straight at Molly, Sam and Ben, and thought to himself, "Go back to the creek, Now!"
As though they had heard him, his friends turned soundlessly and marched back down the path. They crossed the trail, and were soon at the stream. They didn't stop there, but went into the water and floated downstream a little ways, all the while making their way across. Upon reaching the far bank, they pulled themselves out of the water, and made for the cover of the forest.
Hobie watched, relieved, but disbelieving as his friends disappeared down the path, and the wolves continued investigating the grounds around the cabin. He was certain that he didn't understand what had just happened. He watched from the porch until, finally the wolves departed.
Then, carefully, he went looking for his posse.