“Wolves have amazing native intelligence,” Bilgee said. “Their mothers might not be around, but there’s always Tengger to teach them. You must have watched how he bayed last night. Wolves are the only grassland animals that howl up into the sky; you’ll never see a cow, a sheep, a horse, a dog, a fox, a gazelle, or a marmot do anything like that. Do you know why? I’ve told you that wolves are Tengger’s pride and joy. Well, when they’re in trouble, they look up and howl so that Tengger will come to their aid. They get most of their abilities directly from Tengger. They know how to ‘ask for instructions in the morning and submit a report in the evening.’ When people run into trouble out here, they look up into the sky and ask for Tengger’s help, just like the wolves. We’re the only two species that pay homage to Tengger.”
The old man’s gaze softened as he looked at the cub. “In fact,” he continued, “we learned that from the wolves. Before we Mongols came to the grassland, the wolves were already raising their voices to Tengger. It’s a hard life out here, especially for them. Old-timers often shed tears of sadness when they hear wolves bay at night.”
Chen knew that what Bilgee said was the truth, for he had observed that only wolves and humans revered Tengger, with their howls or with their prayers. Life on this beautiful yet barren spot of land was burdensome for humans and for wolves, and in frustration they unburdened themselves by their daily cries to Tengger. From a scientific perspective, it was true that wolves bayed at the moon so that their voices could be heard far and wide. But Chen preferred Bilgee’s explanation. Without spiritual support, life would be unendurable. Chen felt tears filling his eyes.
The old man turned to him. “You don’t have to hide that hand from me. The cub clawed you, I bet. I heard everything last night. You thought I came to kill him, didn’t you? Well, you should know that some horse and sheep herders came to see me early this morning to demand that the brigade have the wolf killed. Uljii and I talked it over, and we’ve decided you can keep him for now, but only if you’re more careful. I tell you, I’ve never seen a Chinese so smitten by wolves.”
Chen was momentarily speechless. “Are you really going to let me keep him?” he finally managed to say. “Why? I don’t want to be someone who brings harm to the brigade, and I’d hate to add to your troubles. I was thinking about making a leather muzzle to keep him from baying.”
“It’s too late for that,” Uljii said. “All the mother wolves out there know we’ve got a cub, and I predict they’ll be here tonight. But Bilgee and I organized the camps so they’d be close together. Given our numbers-people, dogs, and rifles-the wolves won’t actually attack. What worries me is that when we decamp to move to the autumn grazing land, you’ll be in grave danger.”
“By then,” Chen said to reassure him, “our puppies will be fully grown, so we’ll have five dogs, including Erlang, our wolf killer. We’ll go out to check more often, and we can always light off firecrackers. The wolves won’t bother us.”
“We’ll see,” Bilgee said.
Still worried, Chen said, “Papa, what did you say to all those people demanding to have the cub killed?”
“The wolves have gone after our horses lately, and we’ve suffered considerable losses. If the cub can bring the wolf pack over here to us, horses will be saved, to the great relief of the herders,” Bilgee said.
“So raising that wolf cub has had at least one positive effect,” Uljii said. “But don’t let it sink its teeth in you. That would be a disaster. A few nights ago, a migrant laborer tried to steal some dried dung from a herdsman’s house and was bitten by one of the family’s dogs. He damn near died.”
Bilgee and Uljii mounted up and rode off toward where the horses were grazing, which must have meant there had been more trouble with the herd. As Chen gazed at the dust in their wake, he couldn’t have said if he felt relieved or even more nervous.
25
Chen Zhen took out the last two pieces of meat, added some sheep fat, and made a pot of thick, meaty porridge for the cub, whose appetite was growing so fast that a full pot was no longer enough for him. With a sigh, Chen went back inside the yurt to get some sleep so that he’d be well rested for the dangerous night battle. Sometime after one in the afternoon, he was awakened by shouts; he ran outside.
Zhang Jiyuan had ridden up on a big horse that was carrying something on its back. Blood covered the front half of the horse, who was acting skittish and afraid, reluctant to get close to the oxcarts. Dogs rushed up and surrounded the horse and rider, wagging their tails. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Chen was startled to find an injured foal lying across Zhang’s saddle. He rushed up to grab the bridle to calm the big horse. In obvious pain, the foal struggled to raise its head as blood continued to drip from the wounds on its neck and chest, staining the saddle and the big horse, whose eyes bulged with fear; it snorted and pawed the ground. Seated bareback behind the saddle, Zhang had a hard time dismounting, afraid that the bloody foal would fall off and frighten the big horse. Chen held one of the foal’s front legs while Zhang, after removing his foot from the stirrup with difficulty, dismounted and nearly fell to the ground.
Standing on either side of the horse, they picked up the foal and gently laid it on the ground. The big horse turned and sadly looked down at the foal. No longer able to raise its head, the foal could only look at them with its lovely big eyes. Crying out in pain, it pushed against the ground with its front hooves, but it was no use.
“Can we save it?” Chen asked.
Zhang said, “Batu checked the wound and said it was beyond help. We haven’t had meat in a long time. Let’s kill it. Laasurung sent another injured foal over to Bilgee.”
Chen’s heart skipped a beat. He got a basin of water so that Zhang could wash up. “Has there been another attack on the herd? How bad was it?”
Zhang replied glumly, “Don’t ask. Wolves killed and ate two horses last night and injured another. Laasurung fared even worse; the wolves got five or six of his. I don’t know about the other herds, but I’m sure they didn’t do well either. The brigade leaders all went down to check on them.”
Chen said, “I know the wolf pack surrounded the camp and howled all night long. But if they were here, how did they end up attacking the horses?”
“That was their plan: an all-out attack from four sides, hitting the east to divert attention from the west, covering for each other, feigning an attack on one side while mounting a major assault on the other; they advanced when they could, and when they couldn’t, they tied us up so that we couldn’t cover both the head and the tail, or both east and west. Their strategy was more lethal than combining forces to launch assault waves.” He finished washing his hands and added, “Let’s kill the foal quickly. We won’t be able to let out any blood once it dies, and blood-clogged meat doesn’t taste good.”
“They’re right when they say that horse herders are more like wolves than anyone. You look like a real herder now, and you sound like one, with some of the cruel savagery of an ancient grassland warrior.” Handing his brass-handled Mongolian knife to Zhang, he said, “You do it. I can’t bring myself to kill such a beautiful foal.”
“Wolves killed this foal,” Zhang said, “not humans. This has nothing to do with human nature. I’ll do it. But that’s all I’ll do. You have to do the rest-skin it, gut it, and cut up the meat. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Taking the knife, Zhang put his feet on one side of the foal’s chest while holding down its head. Following grassland tradition, he let the foal’s eyes face Tengger as he plunged the knife into its neck and severed an artery. There wasn’t enough blood to spew, barely enough to drip slowly. As if looking at a butchered sheep, Zhang watched the foal struggle and finally die.