Chen shook his head. “I tried that too. Didn’t work.”
“Let’s try it again.” Zhang brought over a loaded oxcart, slipped a rope around the neck of one of the puppies, and tied the rope to the rear axle. Then he circled the wolf, the obedient puppy tagging along behind.
“We’re going to a nice place,” Zhang said as he walked, trying to win over the cub. “See, like this, follow the cart. It’s easy. You’re smarter than a dog; you know how to do this, don’t you? Here, take a good look.”
The cub stared at the puppy, his head held high out of disdain. Chen coaxed and cajoled, dragging the wolf behind the puppy a few steps, though it was actually he who was being pulled along by the cub, who followed because he liked the puppy, not because he wanted to do their bidding. After completing one revolution, Chen looped the iron ring over the shaft, hoping the cub would follow the cart. But the moment the chain was attached to the cart, the cub pulled against it with all his might, straining harder than when he was tethered to the wooden post and making the heavy cart creak.
Chen looked at the scene in front of him: not a single yurt or sheep left. Panic began to set in. If they didn’t get on the road soon, they wouldn’t reach the temporary campsite before dark. With so many sections and so many twists and turns along the way, what would happen to Yang Ke’s sheep and Gao Jianzhong’s cows if they were lost? How would the two men find a place to stop for food and tea? More dangerous yet was the night shift, when everyone was tired and they didn’t have the dogs around. If something happened to the sheep because of the cub, Chen would be criticized again and the cub would probably be shot.
Anxiety finally hardened Chen’s heart. “He might die if we drag him along, but he’ll surely die if we let him go, so let’s seek life in death and drag him along with us. You get the carts moving and let me have your horse. I’ll bring up the rear with the cub.”
Zhang sighed. “Obviously, raising a wolf under nomadic conditions is just about impossible.”
Chen moved the cart tethered with the puppy and the cub to the rear of the caravan. Then he tied the rope from the last ox to the shaft of the cart ahead of them. “Let’s go,” he shouted.
Since Zhang couldn’t bring himself to sit on the cart, he walked along holding the rope tied to the first ox. One after another, the carts started moving. The puppy followed as the last cart began moving, but the cub stayed put even when the three-yard-long chain was stretched taut. Gao Jianzhong had picked the best and fastest six oxen for the move. They had followed grassland customs by feeding the oxen nothing but water for three days. When their stomachs were empty was the best time to put them to work. So when they got under way, the cub was no match; he was jerked forward and fell head over heels before managing to dig his paws into the ground.
Startled and angry, he struggled, clawing wildly as he rolled around and got to his feet time and again. He’d run a few steps, then stop and dig in. But then, once they were on the path, the carts picked up speed. The cub stumbled and bounced around for a dozen yards or so before he was dragged backward, pulled along like a dead dog, the hard grass stubble scraping off a layer of his fur.
The puppy cocked her head to look at the cub sympathetically; she whimpered and raised her paws as if telling him to walk like her or he’d be dragged to his death. But, too haughty to act like a dog, the cub ignored her and continued to resist…
Chen could see that the cub would rather endure the pain and struggle against the chain than be led along like a dog. His resistance marked the fundamental distinction between wolves and dogs; between wolves and lions, tigers, bears, and elephants; and between wolves and most humans. No grassland wolf would surrender to humans. Refusing to follow or to be led was a core belief for a Mongolian wolf, and that was true even for a cub who had never been taught by members of a pack.
As the cub struggled, the road grit rubbed his paws bloody, a sight that stabbed at Chen’s heart. The wolf, a totem for the stubborn grassland people over the millennia, possessed spiritual power that would shame and inspire awe in humans. Few people could live according to that code without bending and compromising; fewer still would pit their lives against a nearly invincible external force.
These thoughts made Chen aware that his understanding of wolves was still incredibly shallow. For a long time he had thought that food, and hence killing, was the most important thing for wolves; obviously, that was not the case. He had based that assumption on his understanding of human behavior. Neither food nor killing was the purpose of the wolves’ existence; rather, it was their sacred, inviolable freedom, their independence, and their dignity. It was this principle that made it possible for all true believers among the herdsmen to willingly be delivered to the mystical sky-burial ground, in hopes that their souls would soar freely along with those of the wolves.
After four or five li, the stubborn cub had lost about half of the fur around his neck, which was now bleeding. The thick pads on his paws were rubbed raw, exposing the flesh underneath. Finally the exhausted cub could no longer roll over; now, like a dying wolf dragged along by a fast horse and a lasso pole, he no longer struggled. When drops of blood began to fall from his throat, Chen realized that the collar had opened a wound there. He shouted for the carts to stop and jumped off his horse, picked up the quaking cub, and walked with him in his arms for a yard or so to loosen the chain. His arms were quickly smeared by blood from the cub’s neck. Seemingly close to death, the cub continued to bleed; he scratched Chen’s hands with paws whose claws had been blunted from his ordeal and were now a bloody mess. Chen’s tears merged with the wolf’s blood.
Zhang Jiyuan was shocked to see the state the cub was in. Walking around and around, but not knowing what to do, he said, “How could he be so stubborn? Doesn’t he want to live? What do we do now?”
Chen had no idea what to do except hold the cub; the tremors nearly broke his heart.
“He won’t let us pull him along now, and he’s not yet fully grown,” Zhang said, wiping off the sweat on his forehead. “Even if we manage to get him to the autumn pastureland, we’ll have to move every month. How will we take him with us? I think… I think we ought to… set him free, here… and let him live on his own.”
Chen’s face was steely gray. “You didn’t raise him!” he shouted. “You don’t understand. Live on his own? That’s the same as killing him. I’m going to see that he grows to adulthood. I’m going to let him live.”
Fired by his determination, Chen jumped to his feet and ran over to the cart carrying cow dung and other odds and ends, where, puffing with anger, he untied the rope and moved the cart to the end of the caravan. Then he picked up a willow basket and dumped out half a load of the dry cow dung. He’d decided to convert the basket into a prisoner transport, a temporary jail cell in which to move the cub.
“Are you crazy? This load of fuel is how we’ll eat and drink tea on the journey. If it rains, we won’t be able to eat. And we’ll need dry dung for days after we get there. How dare you dump that just so you can transport the wolf! The herders won’t forgive you, nor will Gao Jianzhong.”
Chen quickly reloaded the cart. “I’ll borrow some from Gasmai when we get to camp tonight. Then when we get to the new pasture, I’ll go collect cow dung. Rest assured, you’ll have your meals and your tea.”
Having barely escaped death, the cub stood stubbornly on the ground despite the pain in his paws; his legs were still shaking, and blood continued to drip from his mouth, but he stiffened his neck and dug in his heels in case the cart started off again. He stared at it with a defiance that said he was prepared to fight to the death, even if his paws were rubbed raw, down to the bones. Chen crouched and laid the cub on the ground with his paws up in the air. Then he went for some medicated powder to treat his paws and neck. Seeing the blood dripping from his mouth, Chen took out two pieces of meat, spread the powder over them, and held them out to the cub, who swallowed them whole. Chen hoped the medicine would help stop the bleeding. He then retied the basket and rearranged the odds and ends to clear a space on the cart. After laying down a piece of untanned sheepskin, he tore off half of a felt blanket to use as a cover; the space was barely big enough to contain the wolf. But how was he going to get him into it?