Imagery From White Fang
The whimpering cries that tickled in his throat and strove for noise. That was taken from chapter 7 of the novel.
But the slope became more gradual, and it's base was grass-covered. Here the cub lost momentum. When at last he came to a stop, he gave one last agonizing yelp, and then a long whimpering wail. Also and when quite as a matter of courese, as though in his life he had already made a thousand toilets, he proceeded to lick away the clay that soiled him. The paragraph above was from Chapter 7 of White Fang.
A lynx's lair is not despoiled with immunity. In full glare of the afternoon light, crouching in the entrance of the cave, the cub saw the lynx-mother. The hair rippled up along his back at the sight. Here was fear, and it didn't require his instinct to tell him of it. And if sight itself wasn't sufficient enough the cry of rage the intruder gave, beginning with a snarl and abruptly upward into a hoarse screech, was convincing enough of itself. That was from Chapter 8 of White Fang.
Unlike men whose gods are of the unseen and the over guessed, vapors and mist of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, wandering wraiths of desired goodness and power, intangible outcroppings of oneself into the realm of spirit- unlike man and the wild dog have come into the fire to find their gods in the living flesh, solid to touch, occupying earth space and requiring time for the accomplishment of their ends and their existence. That came from Chapter 10.
Grey Beaver ordered meat to be brought to him, and guarded him form the other dogs while he ate. After that, grateful and content, White Fang lay at Grey Beaver's feet gazing at the fire that warmed him, blinking and dozing, secure in the knowledge that the morrow would find him, not wandering forlorn through the bleak forest stretches, but in the camp of the man animals, with the gods whom he had given himself and upon whom he was now dependent. That quote came from Chapter 12.