Once his breathing was back to normal, he rode over to where the lamb had been taken. There he discovered a depression in the ground. The flattened grass was all he needed to see to know that the wolf had not just come down out of the mountains; if she had, he might have spotted her earlier. No, she had lain in the depression, waiting for the flock to draw near before making her move. Chen looked up to see where the sun was in the sky. He calculated that the wolf had lain hidden for more than three hours. During that season, only female wolves would take a lamb in broad daylight, as a hunting lesson for her young cubs. Lamb was also the most tender, most easily digested meat for cubs that had not yet opened their eyes and were still suckling.
Seething with anger, Chen also felt lucky. In recent days, he and Yang Ke had lost a lamb every few days, and they wondered if eagles or vultures had carried them away. Thieves from the sky struck quickly, often catching the herders off guard long enough for them to fly off with one of the lambs. But an eagle swooping down out of the sky sent fright waves through the flock, which reacted with bleats that would not escape the shepherd’s attention. It was a mystery he and Yang had not been able to solve. Now that he had seen the wolf run off with a lamb and had discovered the depression in the ground, the mystery was solved. No more lambs would be lost to that trick.
No matter how guarded he was, Chen could not guarantee there would be no incidents. The wolves used tactics to fit a situation. While they lacked the wings of vultures, they were the true flying burglars on the grassland. Time after time they found ways to surprise people, always resulting in increased vigilance and the wisdom of hindsight.
Chen scratched Erlang lightly behind the ear, for which he received no sign of gratitude.
Snowflakes were swirling in the air when he stepped into the yurt and, together with Yang Ke and Gao Jianzhong, warmed himself by the stove, where dried dung burned. They drank tea and ate fatty meat and some curds that Gasmai had brought over. Since they had idle hours ahead, Chen tried to get them to go looking for a wolf cub. His reasoning, he believed, was convincing: Fights with wolves are inevitable, so by raising one of our own, we can get a better understanding of what makes them tick. Then we’ll know the enemy the way we know ourselves.
Gao Jianzhong, who was cooking meat, had a pained look. “Stealing a wolf cub isn’t child’s play,” he said. “The other day, Lamjav and some of the others smoked a female wolf out of a den when they were trying to steal a cub, and she nearly tore his arm off before three horse herders, one cowherd, and seven or eight dogs managed to kill her. The den was so deep it took them two days, working as teams, to get at the cubs. Even a sheep will defend her young. With a wolf, it’s a fight to the death. We don’t have a rifle. Do you expect us to take on a wolf with spades and herding clubs? Besides, digging up a wolf’s den is exhausting work. The last time I went out with Sanjai, we dug for two whole days and still didn’t reach the end. Finally we lit a fire and sealed the opening, figuring we’d suffocate the cubs inside. Sanjai said the mother wolf would know how to block off the smoke, and that there’d be a secret exit somewhere. By now you should know how wolves can trick us. The herdsmen say, ‘Wolf den, wolf den, empty nine times out of ten.’ The wolves move their dens all the time. If it’s that hard for the locals, what makes you think we’re up to it?”
Yang Ke, on the other hand, thought it was a great idea. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “I’ve got a pointed rod, sort of like a bayonet. I don’t believe the two of us can’t handle one female wolf. We’ll also take a chopper and some double-kick firecrackers. By hacking with the chopper and setting off the crackers, there isn’t a wolf alive we can’t scare off. And if we manage to kill one in the process, everyone will be talking about us.”
“Dream on,” Gao said sarcastically. “You need to be careful a wolf doesn’t turn you into a one-eyed dragon or give you rabies. That’d put an end to your scrawny life.”
Yang wagged his head. “Back at school, during the Red Guard faction fights, four out of the five members of our group were wounded. I came through without a scratch. So I know I’ve got luck on my side. Lamjav likes to say I’m a grass-eating sheep and he’s a meat-eating wolf. But if we go out and come back with a wolf cub, he won’t be able to say that anymore. I’d do it even if it cost me an eye.”
“Great!” Chen said. “You’re in? Don’t back out later.”
Yang banged his mug down on the table. “When do we go? The sooner the better. After this, maybe they’ll let us join their wolf-encirclement hunt, something I’ve dreamed of doing.”
Chen stood up. “How about as soon as we finish eating? We need to do some scouting first.”
After wiping his mouth, Gao said, “Gombu will have to watch the flock for you, and that means our yurt will lose a day’s work points.”
Yang replied snidely, “You’re so damned petty. What about that time Chen returned with a wagonload of gazelles-how many work points was that worth? You’re pathetic!”
Chen and Yang were saddling their horses when Bayar rode up on a big yellow horse. He told Chen that his grandfather, Papa Bilgee, wanted to see him. “It must be important if Papa sent for me,” Chen said.
“Maybe it’s about the hunt,” Yang said. “Go on. While you’re there you can get some hints on what we need to do to get one of those cubs.”
Chen jumped into the saddle. Since Bayar was too short to remount his horse on his own, Yang offered to give him a boost. Bayar said no. He led the horse over to the wagon, stood on one of the shafts, and climbed into the saddle. The two horses sped off.
8
Before Chen had dismounted, he smelled the meat cooking inside the old man’s yurt. Strangely, it didn’t smell like mutton, so he rushed inside. "Not so fast,” Bilgee barked. Chen stopped and immediately noticed that three sides of the floor covering were rolled up, and a new horsehide was spread out in the middle, on top of which lay seven or eight wolf traps. Steam rising from the pot filled the yurt with a rank odor; inside a black, oily liquid bubbled. Gasmai was on her knees next to the stove, her face covered with grimy sweat as she stoked the fire with dried dung. Her five-year-old daughter, Checheg, was playing with sheep bones, sixty or seventy of them. Batu, who was still recuperating at home, his face a patchwork of new skin, was polishing traps with Bilgee’s wife, Eeji. Chen sat down beside the old man.
“What are you cooking? Wolf traps?” Chen asked jokingly. “You must have strong teeth.”
Bilgee’s eyes narrowed when he laughed. “You’re half right. I am cooking traps, but my teeth are no good. If it’s good teeth you want, look at the traps. Good ones, wouldn’t you say?”
“But why are you cooking them?” Chen asked.
“To catch wolves,” Bilgee answered. “Let me test your sense of smell. What kind of meat is that?” Bilgee pointed to a bowl beside the stove. Chen shook his head.