Wolf's Return to the Wild Chapter 1

When I first went to the Zoige Grassland to sketch, I never imagined that there would be a dying wolf cub on the grassland that was destined to affect my life and would make a faint cry for help to me...

As soon as I set foot on this plateau meadow with an altitude of nearly 4,000 meters, I immediately felt that the air was thin, the sun was blazing, and the wind was blowing hard. There were almost no trees that could take root and grow. There were only vast grasslands and rolling hills. shallow mountains. According to local people, "Zoergai" means "a place where yaks like" in Tibetan. Looking around, you can see the sacred snow-capped mountains, fluttering prayer flags, cattle and sheep all over the mountains and fields under the long white clouds, the clear sky against the splendid Tibetan Buddhist temples... This is the paradise of freedom that every painter dreams of.

It was April, and the scorching sun that had been suppressed all winter began to scorch every inch of land on the plateau. At noon, I walked with my painting folder and luggage under the scorching sun, and became increasingly thirsty. There were no trees around to provide shade, and I had already finished drinking the water. I finally found a Quinn's house on the endless grassland, opened the door and went in to ask for a drink of water.

The herdsmen's homes deep in the grassland rarely have foreign Han guests, so they are extremely enthusiastic. An old herder grandmother brought out butter tea, kneaded a piece of tsampa and handed it to me. Several herdsmen who spoke fluent Chinese sat around the table and chatted with me from all over the world. During the chat, we talked about the recent stories about wolves in the grassland. I am an animal fan, and I was immediately interested when I heard it.

"I haven't seen such a wolf for a long time!" The old lady sat down opposite me, took off the string of Buddhist beads on her hand, counted them one by one, and said, "A few days ago, a big male wolf got into a house. A sheep was stolen from someone's sheepfold. As soon as the news of the lost sheep spread, the Hunter Jiang went to take out the wolf trap. After a few days, the wolf trap was missing! Later, the trap was found, but only one of the traps had been bitten off. Wolf Claw, the wolf actually ran away!"

"Did the wolf bite off its own claws?!" I was shocked. Although I had read such descriptions in novels before, I always read them as literary stories. Now when I heard the herdsmen on the grassland telling the real version, I couldn't help but feel terrified. , "Is there really such a thing?!"

"Yes, there are fierce wolves on the grassland!" The old lady nodded repeatedly. From her intermittent description and the supplements of several herdsmen nearby, I tried hard to restore the scene at that time: the trapped wolf The big male wolf couldn't run far after dragging the wolf trap. He immediately bit off his injured front paw and turned over to escape. He was chased by several Tibetan dogs following the smell of blood. The big male wolf couldn't climb up the mountain with three paws. In panic, he hid in the crevices of the rocks at the foot of the mountain. The wolf's head was facing outwards, guarding him tightly! Among the several Tibetan dogs that gathered around, a young and inexperienced dog saw the lame wolf and thought it would be easy to deal with. He rushed in without knowing the depth. As soon as he reached half of his head in, the big male wolf bit him head and throat. His eyeballs were bitten out, and the wolf's head whipped around violently. The dog even snorted a few times before his throat was torn out by the male wolf, and he died at the entrance of the cave. The remaining Tibetan dogs were too frightened to rush in, and they just barked loudly to report the news. The wolf also stayed in the crevices of the rocks and refused to come out.
 
The Hunter Jiangs and herdsmen who came after hearing the sound drove away the dogs. Seeing that the crevice in the stone was not too deep, the Hunter Jiang tied the Tibetan knife to the head of the horse stick, poked it into the hole, and stabbed the big wolf to death in the crevice. inside. When the Hunter Jiang felt that there was no more movement, he withdrew his horse stick and picked out the dead wolf. He saw that the ruler-long Tibetan knife was inserted into the big male wolf's mouth and penetrated from the bottom of the throat. Blood bubbles appeared in the wolf's mouth and throat. , large streams of wolf blood flowed down the blade, and the handle of the knife was swallowed directly into the wolf's mouth, and was bitten tightly by the wolf's teeth, unable to pull it out.

Hearing this, I swallowed a sip of tea with difficulty and touched my throat uncomfortably, as if a knife had penetrated my throat.

"When the wolf died, his scalp, eyes, and ears were all stabbed with knives. Only one eye was left staring at the person who killed him. It made people feel sick." The Quinn brother next to me didn't care at all that I was uncomfortable. Feeling like that, he took over what the old lady said and continued, "The big male wolf only had stab wounds on his head, eyes, and neck. There were no wounds on his body or back at all. What do you think is going on?" He acted calmly, poured a bowl of wine, took a sip, and looked at the confused expression on my face: "A big wolf will bite upwards with a knife until it dies. If a dog was hit by two knifes, it would have turned around and turned inward." Shrink! Do you think this wolf is cruel?"

My scalp felt numb and my heart felt chilly, as if I could feel the gleaming Tibetan knife in the narrow stone crevice stabbing wildly in front of my eyes.

"That Hunter Jiang was lucky," another bearded Quinn said enviously. "He got an almost complete wolf skin, but one of the wolf legs was missing."

I lowered my eyelids and sighed, feeling both admiration and regret. I have loved animals since I was a child. I grew up watching "Animal World" narrated by Zhao Zhongxiang, so I have more or less understanding of various creatures. But for the wolf, I have always felt that he is not an ordinary animal - mysterious, cold, ferocious and awe-inspiring. From the various animal legends and records I know, only wolves can bite off their own paws cruelly and pay a high price for a way out. No other animal can bite it off and kill its own limbs from the trap. escape. It's a pity that this powerful wolf who would rather die than surrender could not escape the fate of being killed. I suddenly wanted to witness the severed wolf claw with my own eyes, touch the "battle" left by the male wolf with my own hands, and feel the wolf spirit that I had always thought could only be found in novels and rumors.

The old lady was holding the beads one by one in her hand, showing a look of unbearability: "The most pitiable thing is the female wolf who just gave birth to wolf cubs not long ago..."

"There is also a female wolf with cubs?" My eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes!" Grandma replied, "That's why the male wolf steals the sheep."

I nodded. From what I knew about the living habits of wolves, I knew that the female wolf stayed in the den while giving birth to her pups, and the task of hunting and raising the family was left to the male wolf. This first-time male wolf father has a family to support, and hunting and raising young is the instinct of every wolf father. But even so, wolves are never willing to be enemies with humans. Aren't the bloody lessons of our ancestors enough? I deeply sympathized but disapproved of the male wolf's risky behavior of hunting domestic animals: "It's so stupid. If the male wolf dies, how will the wolf pack survive? Can't he catch the buffalo and wild sheep?"

"Buffalo and wild sheep?" The bearded Quinn laughed a few times, "Did you see any of them as you walked along?"

"Where's the goral? Muntjac? Qingyang? Roe deer? Deer..." I asked all the names of wild herbivores that I could think of as food for wolves. The bearded man shook his head: "If there were any of these rare things, they would have been wiped out long ago. It is the wolf's turn to attack?"

My heart sank, and I suddenly understood why the male wolf was willing to risk his life to steal the sheep. I suddenly started to hate people.

The elder brother of the Quinn took over what the bearded man said: "After the male wolf died, the female wolf went crazy. She dared to break into the pasture during the day and killed three or four sheep in succession. At night, the female wolf ran to the top of the mountain. Or howling one after another at the place where the male wolf was killed, the howling makes the herdsmen fearful every day..."

I asked: "Has anyone seen that female wolf?"

"Why didn't you see her? It's broad daylight. Even the dogs can't drive her away. She doesn't hide from people. That she-wolf is just trying to kill people." The Quinn brother waved his hand to signal me not to interrupt him. I immediately shut up and listened, for fear of missing any detail. The Quinn's brother's narration took me back to a few days ago: in those days, the she-wolf, who was suffering from the pain of losing her husband and suffering from hunger, howled every night, making the herdsmen The panic and the she-wolf's suicidal provocation made the conflict between the naturally irreconcilable herdsmen and the wolves even more acute. In order to avoid future troubles, experienced Hunter Jiangs searched everywhere and found the wolf den. After several tests, they found that the mother wolf was not there, but there were clearly still cubs hidden in the den. Some people suggested taking out the wolf cubs and blowing up the wolf den! Some people are afraid of incurring even more crazy revenge from the mother wolf, so they suggest leaving a live wolf cub. The mother wolf loves her son so much that she will definitely take the remaining wolf far away to avoid disaster, but she must take the little wolf's hind legs. Broken, let the she-wolf raise a wolf that can never stand up. It will be physically and mentally exhausted for a lifetime, and will never come back again. Some people still don’t believe that this almost-dead she-wolf will protect her cubs and leave. They should take the initiative to eradicate the roots and leave this one behind first. Litter the wolf cubs, lure the mother wolf back, and then catch them all, so that you can get another big wolf skin.

The Quinn brother took a bite of tsampa and chewed it slowly. He looked at the old lady and seemed a little unable to bear to talk any more. I looked at the Quinn brother eagerly, wanting to hear him continue.

The Quinn brother hesitated for a moment and then continued: "The Hunter Jiang later poisoned the meat. The wolf's skin that he originally wanted to poison was the most intact, but what people never expected was that the poisoned female wolf actually tore the back skin to pieces with her teeth. I didn't even let anyone get that wolf skin!"

The string of beads rolling on the old woman's hand became stagnant. "The mother wolf crawled back to the den before she died, licked her cubs one by one, stared at the people around her, and howled until blood spurted out, her heart trembled, and she howled until she died." The old woman shook her head and said, "Actually, the female wolf was not poisoned to death at all..." Grandma emphasized the word "being".

"How do you say it?" I listened carefully to what grandma said.

"Wolves are not stupid. The poisons they usually use are so strong that even dogs can't be fooled. The wolves on the grassland have long since stopped being fooled. Moreover, the she-wolf killed so many sheep of the herdsmen and she refused to eat them. Swallowing poisonous meat, why? ---The male wolf is dead, and she doesn't want to live anymore. "
 
My heart ached for a while: "But the mother wolf still has a litter of cubs after all. Don't you feel sorry for the cubs when she dies?"

"What's the use of being distressed? Without a male wolf to help find food, how can a lone female wolf have the ability to feed a litter of cubs? It's hard to move far if you bring up a family, there's no food nearby, and the wolf den is occupied. People have discovered it. A female wolf loves her cubs most, and she will never abandon her cubs and run for her own life like a leopard or a panda. Seeing that she will die sooner or later is not as good as perish. "

"Where's the little wolf cub? Is it dead?" What I care about most at this moment is those little lives.

"That's not clear. I heard that they were taken away. The six wolf cubs didn't even open their eyes. They probably won't survive." The Quinn brother replied.

The fate of these little wolf cubs immediately touched my heart. I asked urgently: "When did this happen? Who took it away? Where does that person live? Can I contact him? I want to see That litter of wolf cubs."

"I just heard it from someone who came by the river yesterday. There is no phone in the pastoral area, so I can't contact anyone. I don't know exactly which one. If you want to find out, why not go up along the river and ask again. Maybe someone else knows. Do you want to see The cubs? The mother wolf is dead, and you can only see a litter of dead wolves."

My brows furrowed. If this story came from the bragging of city people after dinner, I might just listen to it as a curiosity and not pay too much attention. But I firmly believe in what people with faith say. Not long after it happened, I seemed to hear the slight cry for help from the wolf cub. A strong desire suddenly arose in my heart. I must know the final fate of these wolf cubs.

The idea was decided, I immediately got up and packed my bag, filled a large bottle of water, and confirmed the direction with the herdsmen again.

The old lady tried to persuade her: "It's too hot. Let's wait until the sun goes down before leaving."

"It's okay, grandma, the sooner the better." I smiled and continued to pack my bags.

With trembling hands, grandma put the string of beads that she had been counting in my palm, clasped her hands tightly, chanted words that I didn't understand, and touched my forehead again. I folded my hands devoutly and said goodbye to her, and set off with my grandma’s blessings.

The figure of the old woman leaning against the door gradually blurred.

Walking on the vast grassland, sometimes no one can be seen for dozens of kilometers. Looking for someone is like looking for a needle in a haystack, let alone a wolf. But the struggle and sacrifice of the wolf couple aroused my sympathy and admiration. I must find the wolf cub, even if all I find is the remains or severed claws of the big wolf, even if all I find is the body of the wolf cub, I will bury this family of wolves together as a person to apologize to them.

Wolves can die for love. I strongly believe this, because I heard such a true story several years ago: In 1894, there was a wolf king named Lobo in New Mexico, USA, who was extremely vigilant. Not being fooled by the Hunter Jiang, he led his wolf wife Blanca and four other gray wolves to attack cattle and sheep to satisfy their hunger. They seem to have the supernatural power to escape death and wander around the prairie elusively. As if mocking humans, they continue to destroy Hunter Jiangs' carefully designed traps and leave feces on them. Lobo's wisdom and calmness were rewarded with a hunting order with a huge reward.

Finally one day, Blanca fell into a trap and was killed by a Hunter Jiang. In pain, Lobo climbed up the mountain and howled at the moon, as if he was paying homage to his dead wife. The Hunter Jiangs were extremely nervous, fearing that no one would be spared from Lobo's vengeful fire. Unexpectedly, a few days later, Lobo angrily stepped into the steel traps arranged around the ranch, and stepped on four of them, one claw and one wolf trap. He was locked in place with an indifferent expression, looking at the sunset indifferently. Down the mountains he once ruled... The next morning, the Hunter Jiangs found Lobo dead, with no struggle or external injuries. Just to follow his beloved partner, Lobo dismissed his other four partners and died alone beside Blanca.

Lobo’s story has stayed with me over the years. But after all, this story happened in the United States many years ago, which is still far away from my life. But now the new story of the love wolf is happening on the prairie at my feet. It is as real as if it is within reach, spanning time and region. It really complies with the words of the old herdsmen: "Human beings are different, and wolves are the same." I am eager to see the Chinese Lobo couple and his children as soon as possible.

I quickened my pace to fight for time. I must ask a few more houses before dark. Many people must know about such a touching and shocking wolf story that happened recently in the Zoige Grassland. If it were in a city, it would have been spread in the streets and alleys.

However, things didn't go as smoothly as I imagined. I thought that such a touching wolf story would be known to everyone, but I waited until dark and asked three or four people, but they knew nothing about it. Instead, they were curious about me, an outsider, and asked questions. Ask about the city. Only then did I awkwardly realize a phenomenon of siege: while the city people were paying attention and longing for the anecdotes of the original grassland, the herdsmen were more interested in the ever-changing foreign culture. They are no longer surprised by the life and death of animals here. Perhaps only people like old grannies who have experienced the changes of the grassland and are devoted to Buddhism will care about animals.

I couldn't find any new clues, and I was very depressed. Disappointed, frustrated, and even for a moment doubting the authenticity of the herdsmen’s stories. Based on just one word, I searched desperately for it with my blood boiling. Am I a little stupid?

As soon as my mental motivation was out of balance, the exhaustion after a day of running on the hypoxic plateau immediately defeated me. I lay on my back on the grass and looked at the increasingly clear starry sky. I took off my shoes alternately, and there were several big blisters on the soles and heels of my feet. Even though I applied sunscreen, my forehead and the tip of my nose were still almost burnt by the harsh afternoon sun, as if I had applied pepper spray on them, and they burned with pain whenever I touched them. At this moment, the sun that had been raging for a day retreated, and the windy grassland immediately turned into another icy world. The frozen soil that had melted during the day was now creaking and forming frost.

I started to shiver from the cold, so I wrapped myself in layers of clothes that I had taken off due to the heat during the day. I chose a gentle slope carelessly, mustered up the remaining strength to set up the tent, and fell asleep.
 
That night, my dream was filled with the sounds of wolves howling before they died and the cubs crying for food. I tossed and turned several times and couldn't fall asleep anymore in the middle of the night. I was stroking the prayer beads that my old grandmother gave me before she left. I closed my eyes and carefully recalled every detail of the herdsmen's stories during the day. I thought of my pious grandmother and the herdsmen. The eldest brother showed his sincere admiration for the wolf. This rumor must have a true origin. There is no need for them to lie to me. Although in modern society, people have long been facing a crisis of trust between people, I am still willing to believe in people with faith. Although I do not believe in Buddhism, I feel close to Buddhism.

I realized that I had underestimated how difficult it would be to find it. If I were to blindly try my luck on foot like this, the probability of finding it would be almost zero. Just when I was feeling discouraged, the details of the male wolf being skinned came to me like a flash of inspiration. Nowadays, herdsmen are becoming more and more prosperous. They no longer wear homemade furs, but jeans and jackets that are in line with the outside world. Traditional handicrafts have long been lost. Most grassland people do not know how to cook their own furs, including the sheepskin and cowhide peeled off every year. Most of them are purchased and processed by cobblers in the county. Since the wolf skin has been skinned, you must find someone familiar with the skin as soon as possible. Moreover, if you want to sell the precious wolf skin, you must quietly release the news in crowded places. Highways and roadside hotels are where all kinds of people gather. , the most well-informed, and in the worst case, you can still find the cobbler, and you may be able to get some clues. Thinking of this, I suddenly sat up with excitement. Suddenly I thought that the precious little wolf skin might have been skinned and sold, and I was confused for a moment.

As soon as I could clearly see the outline of the distant mountains in the purple-blue sky, I packed up my tent early, ate a piece of instant noodles, used the GPS on my phone to find the direction of the road, covered the blisters on my feet with a few band-aids, and stepped on the potholes. The meadow was full of pits, one foot high and one foot low, and we hurriedly set out on the road.

In the first two days when I came to the grassland, I aimed to have fun and sketch, and I walked around leisurely without feeling tired. But now I have to race against time to find people, and my steps immediately become hurried, growing on the plateau with thin air. Time hiking is a huge test of physical strength and perseverance. Fortunately, my physical foundation has been quite good since I was a child, and my body is as strong as a calf.

I was born in a small town in western Sichuan. My mother said that I had not given her any peace of mind since she was pregnant with me. I lingered in my mother's belly for twelve months, and then she was born weighing eight and a half pounds, with thick arms and legs. They all thought it was a boy. It turned out to be a girl. At that time, my father was teaching in a middle school in the county, and my mother was also busy with work, so I was raised by my grandmother. When I was two or three years old, my grandma took me to play in my father’s school. I climbed up to the basketball hoop in the playground and looked around curiously. My grandma was so frightened that she screamed for help under the basketball hoop, with her hands open, ready to pick someone up. . On the basketball stand, I was floating around like a monkey and hanging on the golden hook upside down, but I couldn't fall off. Grandma was so frightened that she didn't dare to speak out. Several brave students climbed onto the basketball stand and tried to carry me off, but I refused. As a result, my tender arm was pulled and dislocated, but I didn't let go.

When I was five or six years old, I became even more mischievous. I mingled with boys all day long, dancing with guns and sticks, climbing trees and climbing walls, breaking off cow horns, climbing on tractors, making monkey rubber bands to hunt birds, and whittling bamboo sticks to explore the mountains. Wear a gauze scarf and jump between the five-story rooftops like Superman... There are many big local dogs in the town, and the most common thing a bunch of little kids do is to catch the dog's tail to see who it is. Let go last... I'm usually the last one to let go, but strangely the dogs never bite me despite their tantrums.

My grandma couldn't control me anymore, and my mother often said angrily: "When will you act like a girl? You are just a wild girl. You are not allowed to go out to play in the future!" Because of these troublesome deeds, I was beaten many times, but I'm still wild. If anyone wants to restrict my freedom, I will "fall hard on the ground" (like a wooden stake) and I will fight for the right to get out even though I will be bruised and bruised!

Unable to let me go wild, my parents decided to part ways and sent me to live with relatives in Chengdu. I was eight years old when I came to this strange city alone. Without the control of my parents, I became even more naughty: drawing a beard on the principal's photo, and going to the morgue of a large hospital to open drawers. I also became obsessed with shooting, joined the shooting team, and went to target practice with a rifle every day. Because my physical foundation is better than that of children in the city, from elementary school to junior high school, I ranked first in the school in all track and field competitions. I also came back with medals every time I participated in sports competitions in the city and provinces. My physical fitness makes my parents very happy, but my academic performance makes them very happy and sad.

My study changes according to my mood. When my grades are good, I am ranked first in the school. When my grades are not good, I am ranked first in the school. I was able to write Ding Ling's masterpiece "The Sun Shines on the Sanggan River" as "The Sun Shines on the Three Monks" on the exam paper.

"This student simply didn't read, and he didn't listen carefully when he was cheating." The head teacher corrected my test paper, and the dandruff spread all over the table.

What really changed my personality and hobbies was when I just entered junior high school. On a breezy afternoon, I passed by the music classroom and saw a sister with shoulder-length hair playing the music "Girl's Prayer" in front of the piano. The trees were whistling outside the window. The shadow is printed on her lavender gauze skirt, which is tranquil and elegant, and combined with the soft and melodious music, makes people's hearts beat. For a moment, my whole spiritual world was shocked. There is such a beautiful image of a lady in this world, and there are such notes that can be played freely according to the mood. I must also control my own freedom and art.

From then on, I fell in love with music, painting, and embroidery... As long as it was art, I studied it. I studied for more than ten years, and my personality was extremely quiet. But beneath the elegant surface, the wild and unfettered roots planted in childhood are still there, often growing thorns inadvertently. When I was in high school, I often skipped class and climbed through the window to play the piano in the music classroom. Later, the music teacher found the footprints of someone climbing through the window, so he locked the window and tied it with wire. I struggled for a long time and couldn't open the window, so I simply turned to the door of the music classroom, saw that no one was around, picked up my skirt, kicked open the classroom door, straightened my skirt, restored my elegant image, and sat down to play the piano.

There was once a boy who liked me in high school. He secretly watched me draw and listened to me play the piano. After seeing my solo exhibition, he even decided that I was a lady in his eyes. But one day, he saw me jumping over the wall into the school. The most unlucky thing was that when I jumped in, I landed right in front of him. At that moment, his mouth was wide enough to fit a steamed bun, and his eyes were full of disillusionment. From then on, he never liked me again. If you don't like it, forget it, I'm still me, a free, bold, strong and persistent person who doesn't like to be restricted.

After graduation, my parents who had been transferred to Chengdu wanted to arrange for me to work in a government agency, but I stubbornly chose to pursue the path of art. Painting has been my dream since childhood. Everyone has his or her own ambitions, and one's own destiny should be in one's own hands.

I like to travel around and paint the things I love. This is the life I yearn for. I worked as an art teacher for ten years. Later I resigned from school and became a professional painter. Most of the time I devoted myself to creation, and sometimes I drew some comic books... I was quite content with my life. There is always no end to people's pursuit of material things. I often see some friends who are always devoting time to make money, but don't even have time to spend money. So why make money? Some of my rich friends envy me the freedom I have, but they themselves can’t help it. In fact, everyone has freedom, but they can't let go of the many things they have gained in exchange for freedom. Try to relax when you have time. If you are confident that you will be able to make money throughout your life, why rush it?

For a painter, sensibility and impulse often dominate my behavior. However, as I am stubborn and persistent by nature, as long as I identify a goal, I will be like a wolf seeing flesh, and I will leave no stone unturned to pursue it to the end.

Looking for traces of wolf cubs or wolf couples is my next goal.

At noon, I was driving in the sun, and the air I breathed into my lungs was hot. When I finally reached the road, I was dumbfounded. There was no end in sight of the almost straight road, and there were no hotels anywhere on either side of the bare road. Occasionally, the cars passing by were whizzing by, no matter how much I waved, they ignored me, and people in a hurry were more busy than less.

I complained endlessly, took out the water bottle, drank a small sip of water sparingly, and put the drawing board on my head, barely covering a small area of   shade. I squatted on the side of the road and stretched my neck, waiting for a car that might stop. The sun continued to shine, and the sweat was dried before it had time to flow through the hot skin. The cement pavement burned the rubber soles of the tourist shoes until they softened. An unlucky beetle in the middle of the road that had no time to turn over was roasted within a few minutes of struggle. Crispy and crunchy. Under the high temperature, the end of the long road gradually became hazy, like a mirage.

The water has been drunk, and the top is roasted and the bottom is roasted. This is really a "dry" wait... Finally, a Tibetan young man riding a motorcycle appeared. The locals are the most willing to stop and give a moment to passers-by for help. Making a stop is also a manifestation of a simple sense of trust, which is rarely found among urbanites. I jumped up from afar, yelled and waved my hands violently. The Tibetan boy slowly stopped. I rushed up to him and asked him about the wolf, but he shook his head, confused. There was no way I was willing to let go of this life-saving straw. I immediately gave him a hundred yuan and made sure to take his car and ask him to take me to a place with a restaurant. The young man squinted his eyes and smiled, waved his hand and pushed the money back to me, pointing to the back seat generously. I stepped into the car gratefully.

I rode a motorcycle for dozens of kilometers and finally found a small roadside restaurant that catered to truck drivers. I bought some water and dry food from the owner. After drinking a few bottles of water, I regained my energy. I stood guard at the door of the store and asked people passing by. However, I still found nothing after asking all afternoon. In the evening I was devouring my meal in a small restaurant, thinking about what to do next. The veteran driver at the next table taught me a trick: "Girl, don't you still want to find a leatherworker? Every morning, some leatherworkers will be waiting on the roadside when entering the county. You can ask them then."

A word to wake up the dreamer!

At dawn on the third day, I took a ride towards the county town. Sure enough, there were some scattered Tibetans squatting on the roadside, with freshly harvested cow and sheep skins spread out on the ground in front of them. After I asked several harvesters, one who drove a tractor finally said, "I think I've heard of such a thing..."

Finally I had a clue, and I was so excited that my heart almost jumped out of my chest.

"But wild animals need to be protected, and we never dare to collect those skins." The skin collector added vigilantly.

I suppressed my excitement, thought about it carefully, and took out two hundred yuan from my jacket: "I'm just an ordinary person. I just want to see those little wolf cubs. If you are willing to tell me, I will give you the money."

He looked at the money, looked me up and down, his eyes flickered: "I don't know..."

I stared into his eyes for more than a minute, then took out another hundred and said in a more affirmative tone, "You know!"

He looked at me and whispered: "It's far away..."

I nodded in understanding and took out all the remaining two hundred from the bag. "Take me, five hundred, all for you." I said as I turned the inside of the empty bag out and showed it to him. The collector scratched his head and his eyes wandered over the inside of the bag I took out.

"If it doesn't work, forget it." I put the money back in my bag, started to retreat, then turned around and walked towards the other collectors.

"Wait," he hesitated for a moment. He covered his face with a wind-proof scarf, leaving only his two eyes exposed. Then he went around behind the tractor and rolled up a few yak skins on the tractor to make some room. , said simply, "Get in the car."

The tractor was driving on the road in the grassland, with the scorching sun above my head and the strong wind that made it hard for me to open my eyes, but my mood became brighter. After two days, I finally had a solid clue. When you go to the scene of the incident, you may even see wild wolf cubs that you have never seen before. The worry is that you don’t know whether the wolf cub you see is dead or alive. I wanted to ask the skin collector a few more words, but when I opened my mouth, the wind and sand rushed into my intestines. "Are those little wolves still alive? In whose hands are they?" I closed my mouth and shouted at his back.

The skin collector was driving the tractor, and it was hard to tell whether he was talking under the scarf he was covering his head with. Maybe the tractor was too loud and he couldn't hear it, or maybe he answered, but I couldn't hear him. Of course, maybe he still has some concerns about me, a strange outsider. After shouting several times, I couldn't get any answers, so I just calmed down and waited for the arrival moment. I prayed with all my heart that the cubs were still alive. I always felt that the mother wolf's death cry was meaningful. I couldn't let the pair of wolves die in silence. Deep down in my heart, I always feel that I have a mysterious bond with wolves. This reason can be traced back to an encounter with a wolf in the Red Plains when I was a teenager.
 
The year I graduated from middle school, I rented a jeep with a few traveling friends to travel to the Red Plains near the Zoige Grassland. In the evening, the jeep's water tank was boiling. A group of people got down to stretch their muscles, chat and take photos nearby, waiting for the driver to cool down the water tank and fill it with water.

Whenever I have time, I see a particularly beautiful rose-colored sunset on the horizon, and it seems that I can see a panoramic view of the setting sun on the hill opposite. I simply said hello to everyone and climbed up the hill alone. After climbing up the hill to take a look, I found that there was a higher hill with a wider view, so I happily turned around the hill and climbed up the slope to the higher hill.

As I was walking, I suddenly trembled and became inexplicably nervous. I instinctively stopped and looked around. The long grass less than a hundred meters away on the hillside in front of me moved slightly, and I suddenly found several large gray-yellow dogs lying in the grass, basking in the evening sun. They were obviously surprised when they saw me, an unarmed and lonely little girl, appearing in their territory. All four heads turned to the right, and eight ice pick-like gazes shot towards me. One of the largest dogs stood up with a swoosh and looked at me with majestic and vigilant eyes. The other dog slowly stood up, walked dozens of steps to the side, and looked behind me. When they confirmed that no one was following me, the big dogs exchanged glances and stared at me in disbelief, becoming even more surprised.

When I suddenly met a strange dog, I instinctively kept my distance and stopped moving forward. "Don't run away when you encounter a dog", this is the ancestral motto. After a stalemate for a while, I saw that the big dogs didn't bar their teeth or bark at me, and didn't seem to show any hostility, so they gradually relaxed and stretched their necks to watch the sunset. I grew up as a naughty wild girl grabbing wild dogs by their tails. I never had much fear of dogs. In my memory, no matter how much mischief I made, I was never bitten by a dog. When you see a lot of dogs, don’t mess with them at all costs.

I looked at the scenery for a while and looked at the big dogs for a while. They looked at each other for a long time, and finally relaxed, yawned slightly with a smile, turned away and continued to bask in the sun, and looked back at me from time to time, their eyes much softer. Only the largest dog slowly took a few steps forward, sat down slowly, and still stood somewhat warily between me and the other dogs, watching my every move closely. I occasionally look at them curiously.

I don’t know how long it took, but there were vague voices on the other side of the mountain, and then the sharp horn of the jeep broke the tranquility of the dusk. The four big dogs turned their heads and looked behind me. Their pointed ears turned a few times in the direction of the sound. They stood up unhurriedly, looked back at me meaningfully, and then turned around and walked in the grass. After a few leaps and bounds, it disappeared silently. Except for a few long grasses slowly growing straight beside a few crouched grass nests, it seemed that the dogs had never existed at all.

It is rare to see such an elusive dog, I muttered to myself, turned around and followed the sound of the horn back to look for everyone.

As soon as we got back in the car, everyone started complaining: "Where have you been? I've been calling you for a long time!"

"Don't run around alone, there are many wolves here." This experienced driver often runs to Hongyuan.

"Wolf? No way, there were a few big dogs that stared at me for a long time..."

"Dog? There are no people in this barren mountain and wilderness. Where did the dog come from?" The driver was stunned, "What does it look like?"

I roughly described the appearance of those dogs and the scene when I met them. The driver gasped: "Those are wolves! They don't need to bark to bite you!"

I was stunned. For a moment, I was out of my mind. Suddenly, I felt that the whole world was silent. People in the car were talking all over the place, but none of them reached my ears. In this senseless silence, , only the loud thud of the heart thundered against his forehead. It wasn't until my friend grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently and yelled that I shivered in fear, my underwear soaked with cold sweat.

"Why won't you eat me if it's a wolf?" My voice trembled violently, trying to put my soul back in place. I have never been so scared in my life, but I am inexplicably afraid of a wolf I have never seen before, because of the traditions I have accepted since I was a child. In the concept, "wolves are man-eating demons." What I just felt was like going to the gate of hell.

After returning home, I worked hard to improve my animal knowledge, especially reading a lot of information and books about wolves, trying to solve the mystery of this encounter.

"Those wolves are probably too full to pay attention to me." I explained to myself at first, but I quickly rejected this guess, because the data showed that wolves will hunt lone and weak prey. Desire, even if they are not hungry, they will kill easily available prey for food storage. At that time, I could indeed be called an "easy prey". Four wolves were trapped and attacking, and a little girl had no power to resist. Another source tells me that when I encounter a wolf, the wolf is often weighing my strength and courage. Wolves can read my mind and I must not show weakness in front of a wolf. If I show that I am timid in front of a wolf, I will easily be misunderstood by the wolf. Prey triggers attack. Looking back at that time, in fact, because I had never seen them and didn't know that I was facing wolves, I just regarded them as big dogs. At that time, I was not brave and fearless, but "the ignorant are fearless". What a fluke, maybe those wolves were also puzzled by my "boldness".

As she gets older, time dilutes the little girl's fear and suspicion. Whenever she recalls the scene back then, when she and a group of wild wolves enjoyed the sunset together peacefully, she laments what a wonderful life experience this was. I gradually developed a fondness for animals like wolves.

"Wolves can coexist peacefully with humans." I often have this thought when I think of the gentle gazes of wolves. In fact, wolves are not always ferocious and terrifying, or kill unreasonably. When they are given the name "wolf" and the bad reputation behind this name, "wolves" become extremely scary. In fact, many people, including me in the past, are afraid of the concept of "wolf". And how many people who are afraid of wolves have actually been exposed to wolves?

The year before last, a friend and I went to visit Wolf Mountain in Chongqing Zoo. The wolves here were in a semi-free range state on a hill surrounded by an electric grid.

I watched the wolves shuttle through the woods of Wolf Mountain, and remembered the wonderful encounter with the wolves in my girlhood. Now that I could come into contact with them, I couldn't help but cross the electric fence and step into the territory of the wolves. Several big wolves ran up to me, sniffed me repeatedly, and stared at me for a long time. Their eyes were as gentle and friendly as the wolves I met in the Red Plains back then, as if they could read my heart. One of the big yellow wolves whispered "Woo, woo, woo...". I tried my best to relax my nervousness, squatted down and tentatively stretched out my hand, imitating his voice "Woo, woo..." ..." I responded unexpectedly. Unexpectedly, the big yellow wolf pricked up its ears and pounced straight into my arms. It rubbed its hard wolf head in my arms intimately, just like an old man reunited after a long separation. Like friends. The other wolves also hummed "Woo, woo..." with a friendly voice, and they gathered around and looked at me closely. I was scared and excited. Could they understand my answer? I boldly touched the wolf's head in my arms. This was the first time in my life that I touched a live wolf with my own hands. Wasn't it a dream? There was a wonderful excitement in my heart, and I was even a little flattered.

Are wolves not as scary as you think? At least they were friendly to me.

My friend who was taking pictures outside the power grid was stunned. It was not until I exited the power grid under the stop of the staff that my friend came back to his senses and said, "It's incredible. The wolves can actually accept you?! Sigh... maybe you I was one of them in my previous life."

No matter in my past life or this life, those wolves that had the ability to kill me generously shared the sunset with me. This mysterious love led me to rush to find the wolf at this moment.

In the afternoon, thick clouds came over, and the grassland was about to change. When the strong wind had already made me look disheveled on the tractor, the harvester finally stopped at the side of the road. "The rest of the road is in the pasture, and the tractor can't drive through it. You have to walk on your own." He pointed to a tent visible on the pasture in the distance, "That's that family."

I jumped off the tractor and visually measured the distance: "This should be five or six kilometers."

The skin collector grinned and said, "The road on the grassland looks close."

"Can't we drive on?" I know the hardships of hiking on the grassland.

"It's full of holes. The car got stuck as soon as it got off."

I looked carefully at the raised earthbags on the grassland. They were as small as steel helmets and as big as overturned buckets. They were densely dotted. It was difficult for a motorcycle to drive on such a grassland. I couldn't help but wonder: "What are these earthbags?" "It was formed?"

"It was dug by gophers," replied the skin collector. The gophers that the locals call are animals called zokors. They eat grass and grass roots and dig burrows underground all year round. The excavated soil accumulates into small mounds like mounds, so some people also call them "zokos." Grave Rat". How could a good pasture be dug up like this by zokors? I looked at the psoriasis-like mounds and felt very uncomfortable.

It seemed that we had to go on foot, so I handed the money to the skin collector with some hesitation: "Are you sure that the little wolf cub is with that family?"

"I promise to Bodhisattva!" the skin collector said swornly. I nodded. Tibetans believe in Buddhism, and I believe in such an oath.

The collector took the money, counted it, and added: "It doesn't matter whether it's dead or alive."

"Why?" I felt cold.

"Herdsmen don't know how to raise wolves. There are no such rules. I asked them to sell the skins in the first few days, but they didn't! I told you that the wolf cubs wouldn't be able to survive! They are dying every day!"

These few sentences in Chinese that I couldn't understand immediately made me burst into tears. I grabbed my backpack and ran towards the looming tent as fast as I could. The sound of the tractor gradually faded away, and under the dark clouds, thin raindrops flew with the strong wind, like an untied tangle. My heart ached uncontrollably, thinking of the time I wasted going around and around in the past two days, and the life of the little wolf cub was being lost every minute. Why didn't I think of it earlier? "I'm dying every day!" The skin collector's words echoed in the air. I cried and ran, tears spilled all the way, and I regretted it so much that I wanted to beat myself up!

I ran all the way until after dusk, and got closer and closer to the tent. There was an old Tibetan man sitting vaguely in front of the tent. Suddenly I saw a stranger appear, and several large Jade Tibetan dogs barked and menaced at me outside the tent. I was out of breath and shouted in a different voice and tone: "I'm not a bad person! I'm here to find Little Wolf! I'm not a bad person!" "

The two young men who were driving the livestock home and the elder sister who was busy outside the tent hurriedly shouted and pulled the Jade Tibetan back and tied it up. This family was quite surprised by the hurried arrival of a stranger like me, and as soon as the word "little wolf" that I yelled got into their ears, they immediately became wary and repelled me, not knowing what I wanted to do.

The old man walked over in a few steps and stood in front of the tent, shaking his prayer tube, with kind eyes but a gloomy expression. The two herder boys and the elder sister tried to ask me where I was coming from. One of the young men wearing a felt hat translated our words. I was panting like a bellows, and explained my purpose of coming as simply and sincerely as possible intermittently. The eldest sister and the young men turned to look at the old man in front of the tent. The old man said nothing and looked at me with a complicated expression.

"Is the little wolf still alive? I've been looking for it for three days..." My tears finally couldn't help but slipped down again, and I fell down on the wet grass tiredly. The old man's expression gradually softened, and he finally sighed. He couldn't bear to step aside, pointed at the tent, and answered my first sentence: "You're late." My heart suddenly sank to the bottom. He got up and hurried into the tent. The last wolf cub on the ground in front of him no longer made any sound. He lay motionless on his side with loose limbs. Not even the slightest rise and fall could be seen in the fur on his belly. The young man with the felt hat who came after fiddled with it a few times, then picked up the little wolf by the back of its neck and shook it. The little wolf swayed limply with its paws down and its head drooped, making no sound. The young man in the felt hat put down the little wolf and shook his head: "Dead...how can you survive without feeding for five days?" One sentence was like a thunderbolt, and my eyes suddenly blurred with tears. The days and nights of the past few days and the six lives The candles were extinguished one by one, which made me sad. "I'm still late!" I buried my head in my hands in pain. The grief I had held in for several days was finally uncontrollable, and I suddenly roared loudly. Only that roar could mourn the wolf in my heart.

Suddenly, the "dead little wolf"'s ears twitched, and he turned over tremblingly. He leaned on the ground with his eyes closed and listened carefully for the sound.

This was the first time in my life that I saw a live wild wolf cub that was so small that it didn’t even open its eyes. There was no sign of life and yet he came back from the dead.

"Huh? Ah..." the herdsmen said in unison, seemingly unable to find the words to express their surprise.

"Alive? You haven't eaten milk for five days and you're still alive?!" My eyes widened. This sudden surprise made me feel sad and happy. This was the first time in my life that I saw a living wild wolf that was so small that it didn't even open its eyes. Cub. It’s unbelievable that the little wolf, which obviously showed no signs of life, actually came back from the dead? I didn't know what to do next. The little wolf shivered and stood full of hope, still listening attentively like a blind man. I didn't know where the inspiration came from, so I squatted down gently and tried "Woo, woo, woo..." "The ground screamed several times.

The little wolf trembled violently all over, like a person groping in the dark who suddenly sees the light. He immediately followed the sound and stumbled over. He had no eyesight and crawled to me based on hearing and feeling. Isn't this a kind of fate? At that moment, I suddenly believed that wolves were indeed spiritual and were guided by God's will. Later I learned that the long howl was just like the mother wolf's lament before her death, and those "woo, woo..." sounds were the mother wolf's eager calls for her offspring.

The little wolf sniffed and nuzzled, grabbed my skirt with its little paws, crawled into my arms, and raised its head with difficulty to lick my lips. This is the little wolf's act of recognizing its mother, and it is an innate survival. ability. The strong desire to survive made him groping in the dark without hesitation, chasing my voice - the little wolf regarded me as his mother.

I reached out to the armpits of the little wolf and picked him up. The little wolf's head was tilted limply, breathing vaguely. Under the skin as thin as a piece of paper, the little ribs were one by one between my fingers. The root leaks downward. I was shocked: "Why are you so thin?!"

"Of course, he doesn't eat." said the eldest sister.

"Is there any milk? Hurry!" I shouted almost like an order.

The eldest sister hurriedly took out the fresh yak milk squeezed in the morning. I carefully held the little wolf cub and warmed it in my arms. I filled the milk with a small stainless steel tea cup, put it on the iron stove to boil, and then immersed it in cold water to quickly cool it down. I took a bite of the biscuit, drank a sip of milk, and held it in my mouth. I squatted down and said to the little wolf in my arms the same voice I had just called: "Woo, woo, woo..." The little wolf moved and quickly pulled out the little wolf. My head was sniffing and searching blindly and anxiously. I spit out the melted cookie milk in my hand and put it under his nose. Soon enough, the little wolf, out of his normal state of weakness, bit up and snatched the milk. The milk instantly covered his head and mouth. He became even more wild, spraying the milk all over the flesh and blood in my palm. Bite and swallow it into your mouth.

I gritted my teeth in pain and hurriedly pulled my hand away. When I looked at the dim light, I saw that the little wolf's fangs had poked two bloody holes in my palm, the size of rice grains, and blood was pouring out. The little guy suddenly couldn't find anything to eat and screamed in despair. I didn't care about treating the wound, so I quickly put on leather gloves and fed him carefully. The little wolf, who had not had a drop of water in five days, ate a cup of melted biscuits and milk. Although the hungry little wolf was still searching anxiously, stretching its neck to beg for food from my lips, I would never dare to feed him more.

After feeding the food, the leather gloves already had several extra eyes, and the little guy was full of wolfishness even before he opened his eyes. Although I have rescued many stray dogs before, even a very hungry stray dog   knows how to lick milk when faced with it. Wolf cubs are indeed different from dogs. When we first met, I clearly understood the meaning of "wolf". The word "swallow" is appropriate. There is no tasting in the wolf's dictionary, and there is no "wolf licking"! Swallowing, snatching, tearing and biting are the standard ways for wolves to get food. It seems that feeding wolves with food from the palm of your hand is extremely dangerous.

The little wolf ate something and gradually became quieter. His breathing seemed to be more steady than before. As the wet night wind blew, the little wolf began to tremble helplessly. I hurriedly opened the jacket and held the little wolf in my arms to keep him warm. The little wolf kept digging into my armpits inside the jacket. It seemed that the darker, crowded and warmer the place at this moment, the more comfort it could give him. He seemed to be desperately searching for the security of cuddling with his mother in the wolf cave. I was afraid that the thick jacket under my armpits would suffocate the little wolf, so I loosened it a little. Unexpectedly, as soon as there was a little room for looseness, the little wolf immediately crawled into the tighter, more crowded, and warmer inside. It wasn't until most of its body was buried under my armpit that the little wolf finally stopped. The shivers subsided and he breathed a sigh of tired relief, almost groaning.

I had long heard that a defenseless wolf cub would instinctively pretend to be dead, but I didn't expect that he could pretend to be so patient, and even everyone was confused by his lifelessness. However, the little wolf cub in front of me, which has not eaten for five days, is probably half pretending to be dead, and the other half is really "dead". He could only stay still and minimize his energy consumption, looking forward to the moment of rescue, or he might die completely while waiting. I suddenly thought of his brothers and sisters and asked quickly: "Where are the other wolf cubs?"

"Dead." the Quinn replied.

"Are you really dead?" I had a glimmer of hope. "You're not pretending to be dead like him, are you?"

"They must be dead. Those wolf pups didn't survive two days and were taken out and buried when they were too stubborn. Dad saw that the little wolf was still soft and had some breath, so he insisted on keeping it." The eldest sister answered.

The old man who had been standing by the tent and was called "Abba" heard us talking about the dead wolf cub. He turned around and walked out of the tent silently, as if he didn't want to look back on these sad things at all.

The hope I had just raised was extinguished again: "What has he eaten in the past five days?"

"He doesn't eat anything, he just feeds the dead wolf cubs." said the young man in the felt hat.

"When I took the dead wolf cub away, he was still biting, and then he lost strength and just kept lying there." The eldest sister said.

I felt sad. I couldn't imagine how the little wolf survived these days. Without the warmth of the mother wolf and the warmth of his brothers and sisters, the temperature of the cold night in the prairie was enough to take away his fragile life. I gently put a finger in to pet the little wolf. His nose was dry, his ears were hot, he had a fever, and his body was quite weak. It seemed that the struggle and search just now had exhausted his remaining physical strength. I felt the furry little mouth holding the finger I put in, and then the fingertips were wrapped by the little wolf's warm and moist tongue, and he sucked weakly twice. The little guy didn't have enough to eat, but I didn't dare to feed the little wolf too much suddenly because he was so hungry.

After a while, the little wolf, who had just calmed down in my arms, suddenly twisted around, as if hundreds of ants were biting him. Then the little wolf twitched heavily several times. I couldn't believe it, so I quickly took out the little wolf and put it on my legs to observe the symptoms. The little wolf hung his head feebly, feeling as if he was surrounded by snakes in pain. He twitched again and vomited out all the biscuits and milk he had just eaten in a big mouthful. He coughed, and driven by a strong desire to survive, he swallowed all the spit on my legs and forced it into his stomach. It was as if he knew very well that it was his life-saving food. But after a while he vomited again, and then swallowed again.

I was so anxious that I burst into tears. How could this happen? The little wolf's condition is worse than I thought. Is his intestines and stomach too weak to accept food? How can I survive if I vomit after eating something? Could it be that the phenomenon of his death and resurrection was just a flashback? Do you want me to watch the little life I just saved die again? I hurriedly rubbed his skinny back and rubbed his bulging belly. I touched him and his big, hard belly that was disproportionate to his thin body. It seemed to remind me of something. I woke up from my sadness and anxiety and remembered some important things: "He has been Sl*tting these days." Yet?"

The eldest sister thought about it carefully: "No."

Fortunately, I had the experience of rescuing puppy dogs. I hurriedly put some hot water on my towel, held up the little wolf cub's B*tt0cks, wiped it repeatedly with the hot towel to stimulate his anus, and gently rubbed it for him. abdomen. After more than ten minutes, the little wolf responded and struggled to turn over. I quickly put him on the ground. As soon as he got off the ground, the little wolf pulled out a ball of black wolf dung. It smelled so bad that flies immediately gathered around it, and everyone in the tent covered their noses. The little wolf walked a few steps, changed positions, and made a big poop. It was unimaginable that a little wolf had so much dirt in its belly. Many wolf pups cannot defecate on their own in the first few days after they are born, and the feces and urine are held in their stomachs. The mother wolf needs to lick the pups' excretory anus with her tongue to stimulate the pups' excretory anus, so that the pups can defecate. Or maybe pretending to be dead for so many days almost made him enter a state similar to hibernation. No wonder he vomited something after eating it. With all this feces in his stomach, how could his stomach have any room to move?

The little wolf struggled to pull out the last puddle, staggered and seemed to be a little exhausted, and sat down on the dung. I twisted out a hot towel again, picked up the little wolf cub, and carefully cleaned the dirt on him.

After more than an hour, the little wolf cub stopped vomiting and convulsing. I fed him some more milk, and then carefully wiped the milk around his mouth.

"Open your eyes!" The Quinn sister pointed at the little wolf cub in my arms in surprise. I looked carefully and saw that one of the little wolf's eyes was mostly open, while the other one was still open just a thin slit, as if it was stuck with glue, and light was faintly revealed.

The herdsmen were amazed at the cub's resurrection from the dead and his unusual behavior of searching for his mother and begging for food. They also found it incredible that I, an outsider, was able to save him. Their attitude became much more cordial and they said regretfully: "If you had come a few days earlier, the other cubs might have been saved."

My heart ached. Holding the only surviving little wolf was like holding a child. He touched the softest place in my heart, and a desire to protect him suddenly rose. Whether they are humans or animals, they are equally gentle and peaceful in the face of maternal love.

With the help of my father and elder sister, I set up my own small tent outside his family’s tent and cooked milk-melted biscuits several times a day to feed the little wolf. The little wolf's spirit improved quickly, as if as long as there was food, he would be able to regain his strong vitality immediately. The next afternoon, the little wolf was able to leave my arms and waddle down to the ground to take a few steps. Only then did I have the opportunity to take a closer look at the little wolf.

This is a little male wolf. His little head, which was drooping weakly last night, stood up like a resurrected seedling. He raised his dark little nose and sniffed here and there. When he didn't open his eyes, his eyelids were like two thin slits cut by a razor blade, with some watery light faintly showing through the slits; now the little wolf's eyes were fully open, but there was still a layer of obvious moisture in the eyes. The blue film is like a person who has just recovered his sight and is gradually adapting to the light. The gray-black body hair of the little wolf is fluffy and messy, and a layer of fine golden long hair trembles gently, like the filaments of a dandelion that seem to float away with a gentle breath. The fur on the little wolf's tail has not yet fully grown, and it is as smooth as a mouse's tail. He had a faint smell of wild wolf smell mixed with the smell of yak milk. His body is very light, and you can lift him up by just pinching a little bit of flesh.

The eldest sister and the boy in the felt hat brought me butter tea every day, and then put their heads into the tent to see the little wolf cub. But as soon as the little wolf heard the sound, he immediately huddled into his sleeping bag and remained motionless, pretending to be dead. I gently opened the sleeping bag and took a look. The little wolf was curled up quietly inside, like a big ball of cow dung. As soon as he heard my voice, he immediately turned over and whined for food.

Old Abba saw all this, his expression became gentler and gentler, and one day he even smiled at us, but he remained taciturn.

The little wolf has been suffering from fever. Except for some emergency medicine that I carry with me, there is no medicine available in the pastoral area that can save him. I have tried to discuss with my father several times to take the little wolf back to the city for treatment, but every time I see him With a serious expression, he swallowed the words as soon as they reached his lips. I was afraid that my old father would disapprove, and I was even more afraid that my old father would simply drive me away.

"Take him away," my father, who had been silent for several days, finally said to me. "Tibetans believe in Buddhism. If I can save his life, it will be considered as my atonement for the she-wolf. Both humans and wolves have no choice. ah."

Humans have destroyed the habitat of wolves, and wolves have violated human peace. Who can be blamed for all this, including killings, curses, revenge, and orphans?

Carrying this little alien child who was cursed by people at birth, the story of me and Little Wolf began.