Black Flame (17 page)

12

KELSANG RETURNS TO THE GRASSLANDS

HULUN BUIR, ONE OF
the world's four great swathes of pastureland.

Kelsang could already smell it through the car's dirty windows — the smell of lush grass. He was restless and kept twisting around to try to catch a glimpse out to see if he was right. Their driver recoiled in fright at the sight of the huge, jumpy dog in his rearview mirror, as Han Ma stroked Kelsang on the neck, trying to calm him.

Kelsang started scratching at the crack beneath the door and pressing his nose up to it with a greedy urgency, drawing the outside air deep into his lungs. It had been so long since he had inhaled such beautifully fresh air, but there was something unfamiliar about it, too. It wasn't exactly the same as the air up on the Tibetan plateau. Still, the smell of crushed grass was like a wall pressing against his chest. He bashed his head against the car door, growling in agitation.

“It's okay, be patient.” Han Ma couldn't help but be affected by Kelsang's mood, so he asked the driver to stop the car. His dog had been cooped up for too long, he said, and needed to go outside and run around.

Kelsang stood on the slope looking out over a wide sweep of grassland. He stood there a long time without moving, save for the rise and fall of his rib cage. After a while, he started to shift his paws, cautiously at first because the grass was tickly. His heart was beating faster and faster, and the grass was rippling in the wind. He leaned down to sniff the lush, luxuriant pasture. The soil here was so much more fertile than up on the Tibetan plateau.

He felt drunk from the smell, and ignoring Han Ma's calls, began to run. There was no end to the grasslands. They undulated into the distance as far as the eye could see. He kept running, and when he turned to look back, the car was as small as a beetle, the tiniest dot on the horizon.

He was feeling much calmer by the time he made it back to Han Ma's side, yet before climbing back into the car, he stopped once more to gaze out on the verdant pasture rippling in the wind.

“Okay, you'll have plenty of time to look at the grass,” Han Ma said, pulling Kelsang into the car.

The school was in a large enclosed campus on the outskirts of a small town, with two big brick buildings — one for the teachers' accommodations and offices, and the other containing the classrooms. The term had not yet started, so Han Ma and Kelsang had a couple of weeks of free time to settle in.

On the third day, Han Ma decided to head out into the grasslands with his camera. This was his first outing with Kelsang since arriving in Hulun Buir, and they set off at dawn. He had borrowed a horse, but only after its owner assured him that it had never thrown anyone.

Autumn on the grasslands is serene, with the livestock busy gobbling up as much food as they can before the arrival of the cruel winter. They have to accumulate enough fat so that they will have a fighting chance against harsh Mother Nature.

The wind whipped across the landscape, the grass as tall and lush as a field of ripened grain, swelling like waves all the way to the horizon. A few black eagles floated high up on the warm air currents, and the sky was such a seductive blue, it looked as if it could swallow up the earth. Every once in a while, Han Ma would dismount from his horse and snap his camera in an attempt to capture the magnificent scene unfolding before him.

Kelsang had spent the last few days tied up inside the schoolyard to prevent him from fighting with the dogs in town. Now that he was free, he was eager to find playmates. It didn't take him long to discover two strange little lemmings crouching with their paws to their chests in front of a small burrow. He was still some yards away and watched as they screeched and chirruped and threw up dust with their hind legs before darting down the hole. They reminded him of the marmots back home. Not long after he started digging into their hole, however, he looked up to find that Han Ma had already ridden off into the distance. So he gave up on this easy prey and went after his master.

An eagle landed on the grass up ahead, and Kelsang ran toward it, barking. But just as he was about to pounce, it slowly unfurled its large wings and started to flap, lifting into the sky like a flying carpet. Kelsang was starting to look rather naïve and inexperienced.

It was midday before he finally had a chance to show his credentials as the fine shepherd dog that he was. He and Han Ma drew up to a camp of three yurts and a crowd of herders who were covered in grasses from head to toe. They had spent the morning gathering hay for the winter and were now lying around in a leisurely fashion after their meal.

They were a courteous bunch. Each one went up to Han Ma in turn to welcome him. One of the young men asked his friend who this man was — riding a horse wearing city shoes.

“He's the teacher come from Harbin. What's-his-name who drives the Long Flag brought him here a few days ago.”

“I mean how come he's riding without boots?” the young man said. “He looks like he's never ridden a horse before.”

“Don't you recognize the horse he's riding? It's Hala. He's as gentle as a cat. No one would lend a difficult horse to a teacher from the city.”

“Haven't you ever thought of doing that?”

“Have you?”

“I don't know.”

As the men continued their conversation, Kelsang lay down beside the horse, who was chewing on the grass. Up on the plateau, shepherd dogs weren't allowed inside yurts, and he stuck by this rule he'd learned as a puppy. These yurts may have been made from sheep's wool instead of yaks', but for Kelsang the principle was the same.

Besides the herdsmen, there were two shepherd dogs in the camp, and they were keeping a close eye on Kelsang. Although they hadn't shown him the courtesy that the young men showed Han Ma, they weren't looking for trouble, either. They could tell the huge dog was from the grasslands.

Milk was in abundance around this time of year, and the two dogs were fed plenty of meat, so they were stout, and each sported as glossy a coat as you could find anywhere. They were like the sheep they guarded, with nothing to do all day but eat.

With so many men on hand to help with the harvest, the two dogs must have been tired of new faces. When Han Ma and Kelsang arrived, they managed just a couple of symbolic barks from where they lay slumped in a corner, basking in the sun.

But everything changed when the men went inside, and the dogs, who were probably feeling bored, began to make trouble. They sauntered over to where Kelsang was dozing in the horse's shadow, still exhausted from his trip across the grasslands. The first to approach was the black dog, who was nowhere near as big as Kelsang but was unusually sturdy. Its left ear was torn, a war wound it wore with pride. As the dog got closer, it discovered that Kelsang wasn't like other dogs. He didn't jump to his feet to prepare for a fight, but stayed just where he was and continued to doze.

The dog circled Kelsang and stopped behind him. This was the perfect position. If it wanted, all it had to do was turn slightly, and it would be able to plant its teeth in Kelsang's ribs. It had used this method a few times before on intruding dogs, and each one had responded in exactly the same way — squealing, jumping up and flinging itself forward some five yards, then squeezing its eyes shut and howling. This gave the dog time to dart away and pretend to be tending the sheep, so that only the injured dog got a telling off for having disturbed the men inside.

But today's attack didn't go as planned. The black shepherd dog wasn't any slower than usual, and Kelsang stayed still right up until the last moment. In fact, the shepherd dog was thinking that Kelsang was a bit slow, and slow dogs have no place on the grasslands.

Before the shepherd dog could understand what was happening, a veil of darkness fell over its eyes, and its remaining ear felt as if it had been seared by a red-hot iron rod. It had experienced this feeling before as a young puppy when it had sniffed at a branding iron about to be used on its master's flock. The dog instantly forgot its plan of attack and tried to scramble away, screaming in pain.

The commotion brought the men outside, where they discovered Kelsang surrounded by two infuriated dogs. The black dog had lost its remaining ear, which from an aesthetic point of view was a pleasing outcome, making it look more symmetrical. The other dog was also the proud owner of a large wound, which ran down half its face. Spittle flew from their mouths as they barked at Kelsang, but he didn't seem to see them. He looked up sleepily at a shocked Han Ma standing among the herders.

“This dog is from Tibet. I wasn't going to bring him, but he won't leave my side. I'll tie him up. If we're not careful, he'll end up killing your dogs.”

Han Ma signaled to Kelsang, who instantly sauntered over to his master and dropped to the ground with a thud. He glanced at the two dogs as if nothing had happened.

The oldest herder didn't seem to care that Kelsang had attacked his dogs, but the idea that Kelsang could kill his dogs did seem to offend him.

“Let him go, and let's see what he can do. I don't believe he can beat two dogs from Hulun Buir,” he puffed, looking over at Kelsang. If Kelsang had been his dog, the old man would have let him feel his whip.

But Han Ma didn't want to let Kelsang go — the other two dogs had suffered enough — and it would probably only take seconds for the mastiff to knock them to the ground and rip their throats open. Then the situation would be even more difficult to resolve. One shepherd dog on the grasslands is like half a shepherd, and even though a fight would be a chance for Han Ma to show off what Kelsang could do, he wasn't going to allow it to happen.

The other men stood around cracking jokes and spurring the two men on. They were obviously hankering for some entertainment after a hard morning's work. The old man's face turned crimson as he insisted that Han Ma should let Kelsang go.

Kelsang was growing nervous, and he stood up a few times. He didn't like the way the old man was raising his voice and glaring at Han Ma. He stared fixedly at him, growling threateningly. Han Ma kept patting Kelsang on the head, encouraging him to lie back down.

During this confusion, a wolf appeared on the hill behind the camp. It was destined to be the sacrifice necessary to bring the argument to an end.

The men shielded their eyes from the dazzling sun and looked up at the black silhouette, like a paper cutout on the horizon. The two shepherd dogs now had a new enemy and a way to regain some lost face, but before they could get very far, the old man called them. They scuttled back and hid in the shadow of a horse cart.

Han Ma could see that the men looked worried. The old man had seemingly forgotten their argument and was swearing under his breath.

It only took a matter of moments before Han Ma realized what was going on. A sheep was tied up to another cart behind one of the yurts. It had lost all its wooly fleece down one side, revealing the soft, red flesh underneath. A few flies landed on it, drawn by the smell, and the sheep closed its eyes and twitched in pain.

“The same wolf that was here two days ago,” one of the herders said, pointing to the animal pacing in the distance.

“Why don't you catch it?” Han Ma asked.

“We tried, but by the time our horses caught up with it, it had disappeared into the willows by the river. They're too dense to go tramping through. Dogs can manage it, but who knows how many wolves are hiding in there. The first dog that went in didn't come back out. We've tried three times to catch that wolf and lost two sheep. Now it stalks the camp during the day, showing off. I mean, what kind of behavior is that? I think we'll have to wait until the snow comes to do anything about it.”

“My dog can get it,” Han Ma said, without thinking.

“Then let him go for it,” the old man said, overhearing the conversation. He pulled a beautifully decorated Mongolian knife from his waistband and continued, “If he doesn't manage it, you can leave him here.”

Han Ma honestly didn't know if Kelsang would be able to catch the wolf, but he certainly didn't want to leave him out here on the grasslands. And if Kelsang did manage it, he might be able to patch up the argument.

Han Ma leaned down, embraced Kelsang and stroked his long fur. The herders watched in surprise as the sleepy dog's muscles suddenly tightened, quivering ever so slightly. Summoning his strength, Kelsang let out a low growl like thunder.

He was waiting.

“Go,” Han Ma urged him, pointing in the direction of the hillside.

Kelsang didn't set off at full speed, choosing instead to approach at a trot. The men burst into laughter. As soon as the wolf spotted Kelsang breaking away from the camp, it stopped pacing and watched as he drew closer.

Kelsang was excited to have received Han Ma's order. It had been two years since he had last chased a wolf, but he still knew what he was doing. He wasn't going to run at full speed. At this distance, there was every possibility that the wolf could escape, so he wouldn't waste too much energy in his approach. As he slowed down, his experiences on the grasslands came flooding back.

The wolf had let down its guard. After the herders' unsuccessful attempts to catch it, it no longer felt the need to run away. The wolf's arrogance allowed Kelsang to cover two-thirds of the distance between them before it finally realized it was in danger and started running for the willows, the best hiding place for miles around. The dog chasing it today was no ordinary dog. It didn't bark madly like the others had, but just followed him closely, silently. The wolf was scared, and its fear was like a black flame burning at its tail as the heavy sound of Kelsang's steps drew closer.

Kelsang noticed that this wolf was a different color than the ones on the Tibetan plateau. It was more like the color of dying autumn grass, sprinkled with salt and pepper. His nose twitched at its stench — that was certainly the same as on the plateau. This was a wolf, and wolves had always been and would always be his sworn enemies. Of that he was sure ever since he was a pup.