text: 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.
  
  "I killed one the other day," Zhang said, "but it wasn't as big and meaty as this one. We horse herders had two meals of horsemeat buns. Foal meat is tender and fragrant, but the herders eat it in the summer only when that's all there is. After thousands of years, foal has become a grassland delicacy." After washing his hands again, Zhang sat down on the shaft of a water wagon to watch Chen skin the horse.
  
  Chen was happy to see all the tender meat under the foal's skin. It was a good-sized animal, nearly as big as an adult sheep. "After a month, I've almost forgotten what meat tastes like," he said. "Actually, I'm doing fine without it. It's the cub that concerns me. Without meat, it's more like a sheep, and I'm afraid one day he'll bleat like a lamb."
  
  "This was the first foal born this year, and both its parents are big. If you like the meat, I'll bring you another one in a few days. Summer is the season of death for horses. The mares are foaling, and the wolves love to go after the babies. Every few days, a herd will lose one or two foals to the wolves, and there's nothing we can do to stop them. Mares add a hundred and fifty foals to each herd. The grass is good and the mares have plenty of milk, so the foals grow fast. They run around a lot, so the stud horses and mares can't look after them all the time."
  
  Using an axe, Chen removed the wolf-bitten areas on the foal's head, chest, and neck, and chopped them into small pieces. The six dogs had surrounded Chen and the foal, five tails wagging like reeds in an autumn wind. Erlang was the only exception—his tail stood out straight as a bayonet as he watched Chen, waiting to see how he'd divide up the meat. The cub, which hadn't tasted fresh meat in many days, was running around anxiously, making doglike noises.
  
  The meat and bones were divided into the usual three big portions and three little ones. Chen gave half of the head and half of the neck to Erlang, who wagged his tail and took his share over to enjoy in the shade under an oxcart. Yellow, Yir, and the three puppies all got their portions and ran into shady areas or over next to the yurt. Chen waited for the dogs to leave before cutting the select chest meat and bones into small pieces and filling the cub's bowl half full. Then he poured the remaining blood from the foal's chest over the bones, before walking up to the cub and shouting, "Little Wolf, Little Wolf, time to eat."
  
  The skin on the cub's neck had grown thick and tough. When he saw the fresh bloody meat, he strained so much against the chain he looked like an ox pulling a wagon up a hill; he was drooling. Chen rushed the bowl over and placed it in front of the cub, who pounced on the meat as if tearing the flesh of a live horse; he snarled at Chen to chase him away. Chen went back to work on the foal's hide, continuing to scrape the bones and slice up the flesh meat as he watched the cub out of the corner of his eye. The young wolf was gobbling up the meat frantically, but he kept a wary eye on the humans and the dogs. His body bent like a bow, he was prepared to drag the fresh meat over to his dugout if necessary.
  
  "Can't you horse herders do anything about the wolves?"
  
  "I've been a herdsman for nearly two years, and I think the weakest link in herding on the grassland is the horses. Each herd has four or five hundred horses, but only two herders. That's just not enough, even with the addition of a student for each herd. Two or three people take turns and work in shifts, meaning there's only one watching the herd at any given time. It's an impossible situation."
  
  "Why don't they assign more to each herd?"
  
  "Horse herders are the aviators of the grassland. It takes a long time to train one. No one would let an unqualified herder out there with the horses; a guy could lose half his herd in a year. It's a tough, exhausting, high-risk job. When a white-hair blizzard strikes, the temperature can be thirty or forty degrees below zero and it can take all night to round up the horses. You can lose your toes to frostbite if you're not careful. In the summer, the mosquitoes can suck your and your horses' blood dry. Lots of horse herders quit after eight or ten years; they either do some other kind of work or stop working altogether because of injury. Of the four student herders who started out two years ago, I'm the only one still at it. There just aren't enough to go around."
  
  "Why would a herd of horses run off, as if asking to be killed?"
  
  "Many reasons. First of all, it's so cold in the winter that they run to keep warm. Then in the spring, they need to sweat in order to molt, so they run. They run against the wind in the summer to escape the mosquitoes, then they fight the cows and sheep over good grazing land in the autumn, so they need to sneak away. But mainly they run to get away from wolves. All year round they're running for their lives. Dogs won't stay with a horse herd because it moves too much and too often. So a herder has to watch over a bunch of cowardly horses without the help of dogs. How's he supposed to do that? On moonless nights, wolves often come out to prey on horses. If there aren't too many of them, the herder and his stud horses can keep them at bay. But if it's a big pack, the herd is startled into flight, like a defeated army on the run. At times like that there's nothing the herder or stud horses can do.
  
  "Now I know why Genghis Khan's cavalry could travel so fast," he continued. "His horses were forced by wolves to run night after night, building up speed and stamina for long distances. I often witness the relentless, tragic struggle for survival between horses and wolves. The wolves attack at night, ruthlessly, and they never let up, not giving the horses a chance to rest. Once they lag behind, the old, sick, slow, and small horses, as well as the foals and the pregnant mares are surrounded and eaten alive. You've never seen the sad sight of horses running for their lives. They run and run, foaming at the mouth, drenched in sweat. Some use up all their strength to escape; they die as soon as they stop and lie down. They're literally run to death. The fastest ones can take a break and gobble up some grass when they get a chance. They're so hungry they'd eat anything, even dry reeds, and so thirsty they'd drink anything, whether it's foul water or water mixed with cow or sheep urine. The Mongol horses rank number one in strength, stamina, digestion, immune system, and the ability to withstand cold and heat. But only the horse herders know that all these qualities were forcefully developed by the wolves' speed and fangs."
  
  Captivated by Zhang's description, Chen took the foal meat and the bones inside and then came back out and spread the skin over the top of the yurt. "After more than a year as a horse herder," he said, "you're an expert. I want to hear more. It's hot out here. Let's go inside. You talk while I make the fillings and wrappings."
  
  Back inside the yurt, Chen chopped green onions, made the dough, minced the meat, and heated pepper oil for the meaty buns that were so popular among the herders.
  
  Zhang drank some cool tea and continued: "I think about horses all the time. In my view, it was wolves that nurtured the endurance and toughness of Mongol horses, which in turn created a cavalry for the Huns, Turks, and Mongols."
  
  "According to history books," Chen said, "there were more horses than people on the ancient Mongolian grassland. When the Mongols went to war, riders would take five or six horses to ride in turns, which was how they could travel a thousand li a day. They were a primitive motorized army, specializing in blitzkriegs. They had so many horses that they could turn injured ones into food for the soldiers. They ate horsemeat and drank horse blood, saving the trouble of having to supply troops."
  
  Zhang laughed. "That's right. I remember you said that all the grassland tribes that waged war here, from the Quanrong, the Huns, the Tungus, and the Turks, down to the present-day Mongols, understood the secrets and value of wolves. That's making more and more sense to me. The wolves have given the Mongols their ferocious combat nature, the wisdom of sophisticated warfare, and the best warhorses. These three military advantages led to their stunning conquests."
  
  As he kneaded the dough, Chen continued, "You've made an important discovery, figuring out how wolves have trained the battle-savvy Mongol horses. I used to think that the wolf totem was the sole reason why the Mongols were so brave and fierce, as well as wise in military strategy. I didn't realize that wolves were their unwitting trainers, drilling world-class army horses for the Mongol hordes. Such formidable horses were like wings for people who already possessed exceptional character and wisdom. I'm impressed! You haven't wasted your time out there."
  
  Zhang smiled. "I owe it all to the influence of a true wolf fan. Over the past couple of years, you've shared what you learned from history books, so I'm obligated to repay you with some living knowledge."
  
  Chen laughed. "That's a fair trade. But one thing I'm still not clear on. Exactly how do the wolves kill the foals?"
  
  "They have many ways. I'm always on edge when we take the horses to a spot where the grass is high or the layout of the land is complex. Wolves can crawl like lizards. Without looking up, they can locate their prey by smell and sound. The mares often call out to their foals, softly, which helps a wolf determine the location of the foals as they inch closer. If a stud horse isn't around, the wolf will pounce on a foal and bite through its neck before dragging it away to finish it off in a secluded spot. But it will quickly run away if discovered by the mare or the stud horse, then come back to finish the foal off after the herd leaves, since the herd cannot take the dead foal with it.
  
  "The most cunning wolves are especially good at tricking the foals. When a wolf finds a mare by a foal's side, it'll crawl over to where the grass is tall and lie on its back, hiding in the grass and sticking out its paws, waving them back and forth. From a distance, they look like the ears of a wild rabbit or some other animal looking around, but nothing like a dog or a wolf. The newborn foals are naturally curious, and they'll run over to check out anything smaller than they are. The wolf will snap the foal's neck before the mare can stop it from leaving her side."
  
  "Sometimes I feel that wolves are demons, not animals," Chen said.
  
  Zhang agreed. "You're right, they are. Just think, the horses are spread out during the day, making it hard for us to be sure that everything is okay, even though we stay with the horses. Come nighttime, the wolves run wild; they steal and snatch at will. If they can't do either, then they attack as a pack. The stud horses will keep the mares and foals safe inside the herd while fending off the wolves with their hooves and teeth. It's hard for an average-sized pack of wolves to break through the united line of defense of a dozen big stud horses. But when the weather is bad and the wolves are driven by hunger, the stud horses are powerless. That's when we're expected to protect the herd with lights and rifles. If we fail, the wolves will get into the herd and kill the foals. By this time the wolf cubs are grown and the demand for food increases dramatically. If they can't catch gazelles or marmots, they turn their attention to the foals."
  
  "How many are lost each year?"
  
  Zhang paused for a thoughtful moment. "Last year the herd Batu and I watch had over a hundred and ten foals, but we only have about forty left this summer. Seventy were killed or eaten by wolves. That's a sixty percent loss, but it was actually the best record in the brigade. Section Four only has about a dozen left from last year, an eighty percent loss. I asked Uljii once about the average loss in the whole pasture each year, and he said it's usually about seventy percent."
  
  "That's a high mortality rate. No wonder horse herders hate the wolves with such passion."
  
  Chen fell silent as he started to make wrappings.
  
  Zhang washed his hands to help Chen make the buns. "But we can't do without them," he continued, "no matter how tired we are or how hard the work is. Batu says that the quality of the horses would drop without the wolves, that they'd get fat and lazy, unable to run. Mongol horses are short to begin with, and they wouldn't command a good price without speed and stamina, since the military wouldn't use them as warhorses. Also, the herd would grow too fast without wolves. Just think, a herd can have over a hundred foals each year, a twenty or thirty percent growth if most of them survived. Each year there would be new mares ready to give birth, which means the growth rate would be even higher. The number of horses in a herd would double after three or four years. Under normal circumstances, we only sell four- or five-year-old horses and keep the younger ones. Uljii says that except for rodents and rabbits, horses do more damage to the pasture than any other animal. A Mongol horse can consume enough grass to feed several cows, even a hundred sheep. The herdsmen complain that horses are taking the grass away from the sheep. If we didn't control the growth of the horse herd, in a few years the cows and sheep would have no grass and the Olonbulag would become a desert."
  
  Chen hit the chopping board with his rolling pin and said, "So the herders use the wolves to conduct birth control for the horses, while raising or maintaining their quality, is that it?"
  
  "Yes. The grasslanders are the best practitioners of dialectic materialism and are good at 'the middle way,' unlike the Han Chinese, who prefer extremes. We promote the east wind overpowering the west wind, or vice versa. But here they're experts in making use of contradictions to strike a balance while achieving two goals with one action."
  
  "But this kind of controlled balance is cruel," Chen replied. "In the spring the horse herders raid wolf dens, taking and killing a hundred, even two hundred cubs, without completely killing them off. In the summer, the tables are turned; the wolves start killing foals, taking seventy or eighty percent of them, since you herders won't allow them to take all the babies. The price of this controlled balance is blood flowing like a river. It requires the herders to be forever vigilant, always ready for combat. This sort of 'middle way' is more combative and more real than the Han Chinese 'middle ground.'"
  
  Zhang said, "These days, all the officials are from farming areas. They know nothing about life on the grassland. All they care about is quantity, quantity, quantity. In the end, they'll lose everything by being single-minded. No more wolves, no more demand for the Mongol horses, nothing but yellow sand rolling over the Inner Mongolian grassland; the cows and sheep will die of starvation, and we'll all go back to Beijing."
  
  "You wish. Historically, Beijing has been taken more than once by Mongol armies, who then made it their capital. The city can't even hold back the horses, so how can it stand up against the sand, a new yellow peril that is thousands of times more powerful?"
  
  "We can't do anything about that," Zhang replied. "Millions of peasants keep having babies and reclaiming the land. The population equal to an entire province is born every year. Who can stop all those people from coming to the grassland?"
  
  Chen sighed. "No one, which is why I worry."
  
  Zhang added, "I have a soft spot in my heart for the Quanrong and the Huns, both outstanding races. They were the ones who created the wolf totem, a tradition that has existed ever since."
  
  "The wolf totem has a much longer history than Han Confucianism, " said Chen, "with greater natural continuity and vitality. In the Confucian thought system, the main ideas, such as the three cardinal guides and the five constant virtues, are outdated and decayed, but the central spirit of the wolf totem remains vibrant and young, since it's been passed down by the most advanced races in the world. It should be considered one of the truly valuable spiritual heritages of all humanity. There'd be hope for China if our national character could be rebuilt by cutting away the decaying parts of Confucianism and grafting a wolf totem sapling onto it. It could be combined with such Confucian traditions as pacifism, an emphasis on education, and devotion to study. It's a shame the wolf totem is a spiritual system with a scant written record. The fatal weakness of the grassland race is its backwardness in written culture. Chinese Confucian scholars and historians were not interested in recording the culture of the wolf totem, even though they were in contact with grassland races for thousands of years. I wonder if Confucian scholars, who hated wolves with a passion, intentionally deleted everything related to wolves from the history books. It's like finding a needle in a haystack to read anything about wolf totems in Chinese history books. The books we brought don't help, so we'll have to try to find more when we're back home."
  
  Zhang added some dried dung to the fire. "One of my relatives is a minor leader in a paper mill, where confiscated books are piled high. The workers roll their cigarettes with pages from traditional thread-bound books that are to be pulped. Anyone who loves books could trade cigarettes for printed classics. I make over seventy yuan a month as a horse herder, a fairly high wage, so I'd be happy to buy cigarettes to trade for books. But since the founding of the country, our government has encouraged people to kill wolves. Those who do so are the new grassland heroes. It won't take long for the Mongol youths, especially the shepherds and horse herders who have only had an elementary or junior high school education, to be completely ignorant of the wolf totem. So what's the point of it all?"
  
  Chen took the lid off the pot. "True scientific research has to do with curiosity and interest," he said, "not whether something is useful or not. Besides, you can't really say that something is useless if you manage to figure out what it is you didn't understand at first." The meaty buns were taken out amid hot steam. Chen tossed one of them from hand to hand to cool it off before taking a bite. "Delicious," he said. "The next time a foal is injured, make sure you bring it home."
  
  "The other three yurts want them too, so we take turns."
  
  "At least bring back the parts bitten by the wolf for me to feed to the cub." The two friends finished off the buns in one steamer and Chen stood up, utterly sated. "I can't recall how many times we've enjoyed wolf food," he said. "Let's go play 'throwing a meat bun at the wolf.'"
  
  They waited for the buns to cool before they each grabbed one and happily walked out of the yurt to visit the young wolf.
  
  "Little Wolf, Little Wolf, time to eat," Chen shouted. Two meat buns gently landed on the wolf's head and body, sending him scurrying into the cave with his tail between his legs. Yellow and Yir immediately picked up the meat buns. Chen laughed and said, "We're idiots. He's never seen a meat bun, so how would he know if it's good or not? Wolves are naturally distrusting; hell, he doesn't even trust me. He probably thought they were stones, since the Mongol kids passing by never miss a chance to throw stones at him."
  
  Zhang walked up to the dugout. "He's a cute little thing," he said with a smile. "I can't wait to pick him up and play with him."
  
  "He only plays with Yang Ke and me," said Chen. "We're the only ones who can pick him up. Gao Jianzhong won't even touch him, afraid he'll bite. I don't think you should try."
  
  Zhang bent down to get closer to the dugout. "Little Wolf, don't forget I'm the one who brought you the horsemeat. You're not the type to forget a friend after he's fed you, are you?" He called out a few more times, but the cub bared his fangs and refused to come out. Zhang was about to pull on the chain when the cub shot out of his hole, mouth open, ready to bite. Zhang backed off so fast he fell down. Chen wrapped his arm around the cub's neck to stop him, and then rubbed his head to calm him down.
  
  Brushing the dirt off and standing up, Zhang said, "Not bad. He's still as ferocious as those in the wild. It'd be no fun if he turned into a dog. I'll bring him some more horsemeat when I come next time."
  
  Chen told Zhang about the dangers the little wolf's howls could bring down on their heads. Zhang returned The Sea Wolf and picked up A History of the World. "Experience tells me that the wolf pack could be here tonight, so be careful, and don't let them take our cub away. They're afraid of explosives, so toss a double-kick firecracker if they break into the sheep flock. Make sure those I got you last time are still dry."
  
  "Yang Ke wrapped them in wax paper and put them in a wooden box, so they should be dry. A few days ago, he got into a fight with the migrants and lit three of them. Scared the hell out of them."
  
  Zhang Jiyuan mounted up and rode back to his herd.