Go wild with the wild(19----20)

                                       --------Jesse (Original)

                                (19)

                        Tears and smiles

        Purple was strong and healthy. As a mother, the she-wolf often heard cries many times before,which were merely calls, or calls for help, no wonder.

        But what surprised her was a cry into tears. One day, when they took a stroll in the grass, a thorn of a bush pricked into into one hand of Purple. Pomptly Purple let out a sharp cry, and burst into tears. She twisted her face, tears falling down her hairy cheeks. All the others startled. Green turned her eyes to Purple, and came over to comfort her, while Yellow looked dully at the crying Purple.

        The she-wolf was shocked. Purple, after all, was human, she instinctly knew how to cry, and cried into tears. The she-wolf watched and feared and looked into the eyes of Purple, where she found the whites. She knew well that humans have whites in their eyes, while wolves only have gray parts.

        The she-wolf watched the painful Purple, but she couldn't help, indeed, was helpless. 

        Purple sat down, and pulled hard the thorn out with the other hand. Then she smiled. The cheerful smile sent the she-wolf wild with joy. Meanwhile, a wave of cold spread from the neck down to the tail. No, Purple wouldn't stay here long in company. The she-wolf thought. Purple should be returned to where she came from.

        As a human creature, perhaps Purple would never belong to the wolf pack. Yes, she didn't belong here, only for the moment. It could also be called a visit, a short visit. Perhaps Heaven sent her here to experience the wild. If that was the case, Heaven was too cruel to deserve respect and worship. Look at the poor thing, she lacks everything she, as a human, deserved to have.

        "Heaven, you've made a mistake. Purple've got tears and smiles, however, she nearly lost the precious gift." The she-wolf howled harshly and roughly, wildly and madly. 

         Yes, Purple would never be a wolf, the mother decided firmly.

        At the thought of this, the she-wolf felt greatly relieved and calmed down.

                                  (20)

                                    No tail at all

        The grasslands in autumn was yellow. The she-wolf made her mind to get her children familiar with the pasture.

        She led the familyy onto the highest of the valley, overlooking the vast pasture.

        Before them, the boundless expanse of grasslands was dotted here and there with Mongolian yurts, flocks of sheep, cattle. Several herdsmen went riding on horseback, herding the animals. Sheep and cattle were grazing silently, and dozens of hounds ran to and fro, caring for the flocks.

        The she-wolf yawned sharply, letiting her children enjoying the picturesque pasture. In future, they would get more familiar with all of this, and more often they would struggle for existence by night raids or daylight robberies. They would have to deal with them regularly, as well as unfairly.

        Purple was rediculously excited at the scenes. She raised her head and howled for long. Her siblings joined her and went on howling. Only the she-wolf remained silent. She roared to the children to imply that a howl was for nights, not for days. Excitement was enough, you children, now, had no idea at all of the true life on grasslands. Yes, it was travel, wild travel.

        Purple stopped reluctently, still excited. Green and Yellow were so glad as to wag their tails wildly, which sent Purple curious. She looked back, and curled hersllf, only to find, that she had no tail at all.

       This was the first time that Purple realized she was defferent from her siblings. What was I ? She wondered. A wolf, or not? Why didn't I have the furry tail? Where did I lose it? She wondered and couldn't find an answer. Purple was so quick that she ran her eyes over her mother. Oh, by heaven, mum has got a pretty and thick furry tail. Purple was nearly in tears. Perhaps I was too young to have one, then, I would try hard to grow, grow, grow, until I was proud of having one tail.

                                         08-07-25pm9:40

     

                                   Go wild with the wild(17----18)

                                      --------Jesse (Original)

                                 (17)

                             Bloodiness

        The she-wolf cared for Purple in a motherly way, and in her subconsciousness she knew Purple was human, not a wolf. In the eyes of Purple, she could feel the mankindness. So the she-wolf tried hard to keep Purple far away from slaughtering scenes.

        One dusk, Green and Yellow together caught a marmot, and killed it cruelly in the very face of Purple. Purple was uneasy and restless at the sight of bloodiness. She ran forwards, and held the dead marmot down. Every act resembled wolves extremely. The she-wolf felt fear and pain. First she turned her eyes away from Purple, then, she leaped over, stopped Purple and urged her to leave. Purple agreed to leave but showed an expression of sadness.

        The she-wolf had misery in her mind at the fierce scene, more fierce than her own cubs. She got no reason to doubt that Purple was turning a wolflike creature.

        Who was it that made Purple savage and merciless? Herself or me, the she-wolf? The she-wolf thought long over it, and the more she thought, the more painfully. She got no answer. It was just the wolf milk not blood Purple was born with, that had made Purple act or behave in a wolf-like way.

        Instead of joy, she felt panic and pain, fear and fright.

        Could Purple possibly become a wild wolf?

                                 (18)

                                Cruelty

        When feeding, wolves are desperately cruel, even to his same kind. 

        Struggling for food always happen among wolves, just on account of which, they are thought to be cruel and merciless. They always had a good appetite and a big enough belly. No animals have a stronger passion for food than wild wolves. It seems as if they never have enough, and they go hungry all the time. They are frequently seen beating and fighting in the face of food, ignoring that they are of the same family, or the same type. To eat to his own great content is what matters most.

        Seeing Purple attempted to have everything she saw, the she-wolf would snatch it and pushed Purple aside. As a wolf mother, why did she behave this way? The she-wolf was, herself, wondering. Nevertheless, she had her own worry, worrying that once Purple was completely in the habit, she would keep it all her life. She did mind that Purple behaved as a wolf, and also feared that Purple went hungry if she was on her own.

        What a puzzle! "Heaven, give me wisdom, and show me how to deal with Purple. It was I that have saves her life, and brought her from the rim of death. But, seeing her becoming a wolf, for me, means too much cruelty, and I think, it is the same to Purple. What can I do? And what can I do to prevent it?" The she-wolf murmured gently and sincerely, praying, followed by a heart-broken howl, long and deep.

                            08-07-25  pm7:40---8:30   (to be continued)

                           Go wild with the wild(15----16)

                                ---------Jesse (Original)

                                (15)

                               Grasslands and wolves

        Without wolves, the grasslands could be swarmed with ground squrrels, marmots, and Mongolian gazelles, any kind of which could either graze grass up or dig so much holes as to destroy the grasslands. If so, that would be the finish of the grasslands, and it would be completely ruined.

        As for this, every wolf felt proud of being what it was being. In his own mind, he was an idol of the herdsmen, in spite of the fact that they at times gave a grudge against wolves, while wolves see no reason to dislike herdsmen.

        Grasslands can't be called genuine grasslands. Every time when the Human talks of gasslands, he can't but mention of the grasslands wolves. In the nomadic lives of the grasslands herdsmen, wolves are their totems. Whoever pays a visit to the grassland yurts will probably catch sight of the posts, on which fly flags of wolf skin. it is very much like a live wolf, on accout of the fact that it is a whole wolf skin with grass in it. 

        Grass is the life of a pasture and wolves are the guard of grass. Without grass it can't be called grasslands as if what it means to the grasslands without wolves. If grasslands become deserts, it would be the biggest nightmare for all the creatues, herdsmen, sheep, horses, cattle, gazelles, as well as wolves.

        Why? Suppose there is a chain of life, then every kind is just a little part of the chain. Wolves are the officials, who are in charge of the birth control of many wild mice, gazelles, and so on. Thus in this way without too many grass-grazing wild animals, most of the grasslands is used by sheep flocks. So in some way the herdsmen are very grateful to wild wolves.

        Grass is under protection, which is good for all. Grasslands without grass is just as horrible as without wolves. Grass is the life of a pasture and wolves are the guard of grass.

                                 (16)

                       Dotingness on Purple

        Purple were growing to be nimble, cute and lively, and in any case, she was more a human creature than a wolf cub. The she-wolf was not less fond of her merely because Purple was adopted and human, and on the contrary, she doted on Purple better than Green, and Yellow. She wondered why they had such a meeting on a snowy night with searching wind blowing.

        In an obscure way she sensed it must be fate that brought them together. She was obliged to cherish the lot, which befell her just when she had milk after a childbirth of two cubs.

        She would squat on his tail, and caressed Purple carelessly just like her own cubs. She would stroke her black hair, which was now long but thin. She liked fondling her back, even her round chins. To raise a baby as bright as purple was a rare happiness for a wild wolf, as kind and passionate as her. Purple, too, was my daughter, my own daughter. She thought to herself, full of loving care.

        If hate is replaced by love, perhaps this kind of feeling is more stronger than love. It is well-known in the world that the humans hate wolves, yet the humans, as yet, have no idea whether wolves hate them as much as they do to them. Nevertheless, we can see from the she-wolf that it is love that can be beyond hate.

        To conquer a feeling which is born with is never easy. We might as well say wolves are born without scorn and hatred to mankind. We are still wondering if mankind is the same.

                                                        (to be continued)

       

   

                              Go wild with the wild(13----14)

                                       --------Jesse (Original)

                                   (13)

                                      Howls

        Rain continued for five days in the late autumn. After the rain, it began to get cold.

        Green and Yellow could join the she-wolf hunting. They would soon become true wolves. Purple, most of the time, she stayed in the cave, though she could run, but not quite as fast as her siblings. For Purple's saftey, the she-wolf would leave her behind, and of course gave her some meat when they came back.

        Whenever it was midnight, and the moon was full high in the sky, the she-wolf would howl at the moon. Green and Yellow followed her mother. At the moment, Purple would join them noisily, and gradually, she could howl like her siblings.

        The howl was their native language, with which , they could communicate with each other, and connecting themselves with other packs of wolves.

        Sometimes, it sounded a signal of danger, and sometimes, a sos for others' help.

        The bass was low and thick, and it was just the feature that could make the lowls travel long. Whatever it was, mist, haze, rain, even darkness, the howl could penetrate and fly over long distances.

        Certainly sometimes it acted as the weapen, which could threaten  and frighten ennemies. t the sound of the howl, most sheep and cattle would shiver to half death.

        The she-wolf whispered in the ears of her children. "Never forget to howl, babies, if you please." This was a warning, as well as an order.

                                 (14)

                                     Night

        At night, the she-wolf would lead her children and groped up the valley, enjoying the scenery in the moonlight. She groaned and grumbled, so as to tell some facts secrets to them. On the other side, she trained them to get used to a night journey.

        Night was their natural clothes of camouflage, under cover of which, they marched about freely and secretly. It was a good exercise for night raids. It was quite essential for young cubs to be accustomed to night travels. It was unimaginable for a grassland wolf to be afraid of darkness.

        Fortunately they were born night eyed, which made them see clearly what were alive and what were not. Their eyes were x-ray filters, which could penetrate maze and mist, as weill as darkness.

        They were spirits  of night, the darling of nature and favourites of grasslands.(to be continued)   

                       Go wild with the wild(11----12)

                          --------Jesse(original)

                                 (11)

                                   Peaceful

        Her two cubs, Green and Yellow, could open their eyes, which was a great comfot and a pleasure to the she-wolf.

        Three months later, Purple, could turn herself back, lying there playing with her siblings.

        Now the she-wolf could scent spring in the air, although it was still cold in the secret valley.

        On warm days, she used to bring her cubs out of the cave, in order to let them enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. To her regret, Purple couldn't join them, for she couldn't even sit.

        Spring came back, and gentle winds blew into hte cave. The she-wolf would hang Purple with her mouth, and put her close to the entrance. She knew well that Purple needed to be used to the light from the sun.

        It was April now, and Purple could sit. They would all went out, and at the same time the she-wolf would help Purple out of the cave. The whole family would have a good time in the spring sun, sometimes for a good afternoon.

        Green and yellow were playing games with each other, while the she-wolf was playing with Purple. She licked the cheeks of Purple passionately. She would pick some flowers and blackberries for Purple. Purple giggled and crept into her chest, while she grinned a little and howled long.

        It seemed that they enjoyed a quiet life, which the great wild nature offered to them. It was an easy and peaceful existence without hunting, being hunted, slaughtering and being slaughtered.

        In fact, the life of a wild wolf was never this way. It was only a short period of ease. After all, a life of this sort was happy, but life always meant more than that.

                                (12)

                                 Nine months later

        Nine months lapsed away. Purple got a lot fatter and bigger. She could roll and creep about in the playing-ground, which the she-wolf opened for them. They were amused with the protection of their mother.

        It was deep summer。In such a season, it was never lack of food for wolves on the grasslands. Marmots were everywhere to be found, which were the favourite of wolves, because marmots were fat and delicious and easier to catch and snatch than Mongolian gazelles.

        Before the cubs grew up, the she-wolf wouldn't join her former pack. She was obliged to stay in and around the cave, expecting patiently for the cubs to grow.

        From time to time she would catch a marmot and coached her cubs to hunt. Now that cubs were wolves, they couldn't be dependent on the mother. Sooner or later, they would go independently to live. The lessons of capture and inspection were necessary and imperative for growing cubs.

        Now Purple would crept freely and howled as her mother. Instead of her milk she fed on the vomits of the she-wolf. Since Purple was among the wolves, in her mind she was a genuine wolf, covered with a thin coat of hair, though not as thick as her siblings. However, Green and Yellow would wonder Purple looked different from them. But, Purple never realized that because before her were all wolves.

        Nowhere was a shelter permenently. Since the winter season was on the way, the she-wolf was worried.

        On the grasslands the herdsmen had a custom of emptying wolf caves in hope of pulling out cubs. Humans were all the time hoping to make wolves exinct. They were ambitious but ended up losers.

        The she-wolf resisted being anxious. That was to say, she possibly had to find or dig another cave in case of being found  here. Though this was a secret valley, and the cave where she settled was one hundred years old, she couldn't help being worried. Thinking of cubs being scooped out of the cave always made a mother heart-sricken. If Purple was in possible danger, what should she do? Then, what could be done to prevent that thing from happening? Was there the possiblity of taking her along among the other wolves?

        As days passed by, the upcoming trouble and situation kept torturing her brains.

                                          (To be continued) 

                         Go wild with the wild(10)

                                     --------Jesse(Original)

                                    (10)

                                 The life of wolves

        The worst trouble facing her was short of food. She hunted out every night. Sometimes she hunted a Mongolian gazelle, then perhaps nothing, and the next night, perhaps a ground squirrel.

        Purple and her siblings were growing bigger. the she-wolf was never as cheerful as she cast a glimpse of her babies every time. A great sense of happiness filled her heart and mind. Now she was so pleased to be able to feed the whole family, that she was never meloncholy even a moment.

        The life of a grassland wolf was her cubs, her hunts and then herself. That was all. However, the life of this sort was all the time tough, full of danger at any moment. All around her were hunting rifles, hunting dogs, hunting knives, and spring slips, of which one was enough to bring an end to her life. 

        A life full of adventures was exciting, as well as dreadful. Yet a life without danger was never called the life of grassland wolves. As long as a wolf lives, and hunts, the life will never cease. The game of hunt and chase was just her whole life.

        Having one leg lost on the spring clips, is too common to make a fuss. Being killed to death is another game, which wolves never complain about.

        Being born a grassland wolf, in the she-wolf's mind, was a large amount of fun. It was a pleasure to roam and wander freely on the grasslands. This is a life filled with freedom and wisdom, as well as filled with dreams and memories.

         Living in the wild nature as wild wolves, makes every wolf a brave hunter, although it is often being hunted by civilized hunters. Being butchered after a fiece fight is never a shame. It is not horrible, but glorious. Sometimes the queer idea came to her mind, but she didn't give a reasonable explanation.

        Yes, perhaps, a life of a grassland wolf is more puzzled than reasonable. Hunting and being hunted are the same, as long as she uses her mind best.             (to be continued)

                         Go wild with the wild(8----9)

                                --------Jesse(Original)

                                  (8)

                               Two sheets of sheep skin

        She had to avoid the annoying hounds, which were the ambulance with barking sirens.

        Two sheets of sheep skin. Two, for one is not enough. She kept this in her mind and repeated it with every step. Just two sheets were enough.

        She was on all fours and dragged herself forwards beneath a carriage, which was used as a windbreak. Just one glimpse, her sharp eyes caught her targets.

        On the carriage there were sheep skins under a plastic tarpaulin. It seemed easy for her to draw one off the cart, then another, but it wouldn't seem quite easy to carry them away at once.

        When she thought of the tale of the wolf in sheep's clothing. She gave a sign of relief, for she never lacked wisdom. Now she was forced to act once.

        The she-wolf caught hold of one sheet with her fangs and drew little by little out. When the skin almost dropped, she stopped and drew another one, while she hid herself behind the first one.

        Grassland wolves were born wise and slippery, which was called cunning or sly, she thought to herself.

        When the two skins were on a level, she bit the two together, bowed her back a little, and let them cover herself. She shook a little in order to get them steady. What luck! they were dry, or rather, they would weigh her flat.

        She made a roundabout way just to make herself out of sight of the hounds. Better flee that way.

        At the beginning, she walked like a tender sheep. When she found no hounds and their owners noticed her, she flied like wind on the crusted snow.

        This was a surprise attack, and it succeded perfectly.

        The loots were the two skins. How exciting! The she-wolf in clothing of two sheep's skins, and slipped away without being caught. The delight and excitement made her almost dizzy. But at the very moment, it was no time to feel dizzy, and she had to run like wind, because danger would fall at any time. It seemed that it was just one mile away on her way back.

        Ah, the baby, Purple, would have warm bedclothes, against the bittter cold weather, and what's more, Purple would also have her own napkins as a real baby should have.

        This thought was the song of triumph, which she hummed all the way home.            

                               (9)

                                  A cradle

        When the she-wolf realized that, she was the only nurse for the baby, exactly the protecting Goddness, she would attend to her devotedly, heart and soul, and risk any trouble.

        The she-wolf loosened the bundle, and before her she saw the lovely naked baby, who was asleep. She held the bundle carefully and attentively, and walked straight to another side cave and put it onto the dry big stone, then she moved a big rock and sealed it .

        That was what her own mother left her, and I was nobody other than a stepmother. I would return it to the baby, perhaps, one day.

        When she got back, she heard the cry of the baby. Perhaps she was feeling a little frozen, which made her cry. The she-wolf was nearly blushed when she caught sight of the baby lying one the grass, naked. She was too careless to be a fluent mother, she couldn't help thinking.

        She put a sheet on the dry grass on the ground with the hair side upwards and the skin sede downwards. Then she swiftly put the baby on the sheet. It seemed as if she made beds for the baby, and as if she was now a housewife in the bedroom of her own child.

        She caressed the crying purple, patting very gently on her legs. Then she folded the sheep skin, and to her satisfaction, the baby was safe in the sheep skin. Now she stopped crying. Then she tore the other sheet into several ltttle pieces, and thus she intended to make her baby napkins.

        Everything was ready. What left for her was to live a quiet life with her three cubs, or three babies.  

        08-07-23 pm 3:00(to be continued) 

                           Go wild with the wild(6----7)

                                              --------Jesse(Original)

                                       (6)

                                     Mum's thought

        After everything was settled, it was nearly midnight. Two cubs, one of which was called Green, the other Yellow, were now curling themselves up in her warm chest, asleep. Then she gazed at the sleeping baby, who was wide asleep in her own bundle.

        The she-wolf was sleepless, half with excitement, half with too much thoughts. Could the fragile life of the baby live through the snowy winter?

        Was it too cruel of her to keep the baby in the savagery, where there was no human smiles or human laughters? She murmured, half awake, and half asleep.

        Outside of the warm cavern, the wind whistled sharply across the secret valley.

        The she-wolf muttered something to herself, and it suddenly occurred to her that she, herself, was a mother for the first time. She almost forgot the state of the moment. As a mother, she had much more to sacrifice to support a family. She was no longer a happy-go-lucky maiden wolf. It was never enough to just offer love, care, and affections. Bread, was just the pressing menace at the moment. She murmured into a dream.

                                   (7)

                               Mum's heart

        The first faint glow flashed into the dark cavern. The she-wolf woke up, yawning for several times. It was no time for her to hunt around at broad daylight, which she knew quite well. But at the thought of the baby, Purple, she was extremely depressed. She racked her brains in order to make a right solution.

        All right, she just tried to have a daring try.

        She crept out of the long cavern, and paused at the ectrance. She had a habit of getting a bird's-eye view of the whole valley, as if she made an inspection tour of the valley with her glances before she stepped out.

        At dawn the valley was silent, calm, tranquil and quiet, with no wind and snow. The snow had long before stopped and the slope was not covered with any snow for it descended against the wind. So the snow wouldn't remain on the slope. It was such an ideal place to live that thinking of this, it made the she-wolf delighted.

        She knew that a journey on the snow would lead the herdsmen to her cavern. Now she was not afraid of being found out or followed.

        Generally it were the herdswomen who kept watch at night. Now possibly they were quite sleepy. The she-wolf couldnt let the good chance slip away.

        She ran upwards the long slope, and headed for a nearby yurt dwellings. She guessed that it was nearly 5 miles away.

        She galloped for a run, ran across a ice-covered brook, flied through some bushes, and then she reached her destination. 

        08-07-23 PM1:30                                     (to be continued)

                         Go wild with the wild(3----5) 

                                           --------Jesse(original)

                                    (3)

                               A duty

        The wolf hesitated for a moment, and then looked sharply at the gray sky, from which snowflakes were still falling quietly, she howled for a whole minute.

        She was in a quite good position to prey on the human beings before her. In a wink, the guilty conscience of motherhood overweighed everything, including her own hunger and the hungry cubs in that cave.

        She caught a glimpse of the trousers of the dead woman, and found the buttocks parts were stained with purple blood. It was just the smell of the blood that made the she-wolf felt quilty and pitiful.

        "My own cubs are waiting to be fed, and the baby is in trouble all the same. They have a live mum yet to care for them while the baby has no mum to feed her. What a pity!"

        "In any case, it is not my fault to be born a wild wolf. However, if I abandon or hurt the poor motherless baby, perhaps in the afterlife, I will not be forgiven. I will still become a wild wolf roaming in the wilderness of ice and snow, suffering from cold and hunger."

        "Thank Heaven, he arranged such a meeting for two mothers with children. I am favored to be offered such a sacred duty to mother the baby. Perhaps this is a good chance for me to atone for my crime of cruelty and cold-bloodedness, which I have been to many innocent animals. By Heaven, let's go, my baby."

        The she-wolf gently and lightly picked up the bundle with her four bangs, and made her way back. When she was quite out of within a stone's throw, she swung around and cast a last glance over the bushes.

        "Let the disposal of the woman body be the duty of others. not mine." She kept thinking to herself. On the way back, the wind died away, and everything was still.

                                      (4)

                                    No food

        Her cavern was on a slope of a little valley. The she-wolf was too fatigued to rise to her feet, when she went back to her cavern. Two newly-bred cubs were still eye-closed. When they smelled that their mother appeared, they kept grumbling and groaning lightly.

        The she-wolf gently dropped the baby on an old sheep skin, and then was swiftly in low spitits. Before her two cubs were crying piteously for food, while she was so weak that her milk nearly ran dry.

        The sight of the sheep skin reminder her of a cupture about a month ago. A pack of wolves chased a flock of sheep into a now-clad hole, strictly speaking, a snow-slad lake. They ate  a large part of them, leaving some to be iced in case of short of food. Yes, a natural refrigerator for extra food.

        Generally the wolves won't approach the lake, until the next spring, when they can see clearly the prey at the snow-holes. It is too dangerous to intend to be close to the lake in snowy weather.

        For the moment she had made up her mind to risk a journey to the lake, although the subconscious told her this was no doubt to put all the eggs in one basket. Yet she had no choice. So she started her journey, in the faint hope of finding some remains of sheep there.

                                      (5)

                                  Supper

        It was a fatal journey in such weather and in such darkness. The task of maternal instinct made her desperately head to the lake.

        The grass protruding the snow brushed her hair, and there were no wind, no moon, and no stars. The she-wolf made her way across the snow-covered pasture land.

        The snow was much geater and harder than she had expected. She thought over and over the adoption of the baby all the way. Was it right? Was it kind enough to connect a baby with the wilderness? Could she possibly bring her up?

        Here she stopped, and the lake was hard to recognize in such hard snow. Her keen sense of smell told her she made no mistake. She sniffed about, here and there, hoping to find something.

        Alas, God save me! The idea went over and over her mind. She was in luck to find a sheep tail and a piece of sheep skin. Except for these, there was merely bones and horns beneath the snow.

        In an instant she couldn't help being in tears, half out of joy and half out of relief. She nearly sobbed her way back to the cavern.

        The tears were not shed for herself but for the sake of the waiting cubs. As a mother, was she right to leave her own babies aside and take the possible prey back home? No, I was right. It was the will of Heaven, or the will of God. Any further idea of the prey would drive me mad. Prey, ah, the hell!

        The supper was poorly ready, yet it could save her family from hunger and cold. The she-wolf had great diffculty finishing the decent supper, and then she added several mouthfuls of snow to her belly.

        She nearly collapsed. Luckily in a moment she had some milk to feed her cubs. She dropped exhaustedly to the old sheep skin, and at once she realized, she had another cub, a baby, yearning for her milk. Now she made a rather miserable choice, that was, she at all fed the adopted cub first.

        The she-wolf bit the bundle gently apart, and covered it again in order to let the baby show a little.

         For the first time, in her mind, the milk of a wolf dripped into the mouth of a human baby.

        By insitnct the baby bit the nipple hard and sucked pleasantly. In a flash, the she-wolf felt a warmth of maternal love flowing through her body.

        This was the very start of a girl growing up in a cavern of wolves. We just call her Purple.  (To be continued)

      

                   Go wild with the wild(1----2)

                                       -------Jesse(Original)

                                (1)

                     See the light of day

        The folklore, as the following shows, has been well talked about in the Ke'erqin Grasslands for nearly half a century. The heroine was long dead, and the only witness, the man who helped her out of the wilderness, may give us a genuine descrīption of the wolf child and her whole life.

        It was a cold winter afternoon, and the snowflakes were falling heavily. The north wind was freezing cold. Towards dusk, the grasslands were all white. The sky was gray and it seemed the snow would last until deep at night.

        It was the southwestern part of the Ke'erqin Grasslands, with no tall trees but grass and some low bushes. Now, everytihng was covered with snow, and only the knee-high bushes could be seen.

        Not any sign of life. There were no birds, no Mongolian gazells, and no yurts around.

        A shadow stumbled along the straight bushes. Perhaps, there was a path along it. Now it was nearly dark, and the path was hidden beneath the snow. If anyone was there, he wouldn''t recognize the path. The shadow approached and at last one can see clearly, it was a woman with a bundle in her arms, her hair, her scarf, even her lashes all covered with snow.

        How long had she staggered in the storm? No one knew.

        She struggled forwards. Where would she go?

        The harsh wind slowed her steps. At last she dropped to the ground out of breath. She was too tired to regain her foot, and had no shoice but to lie there, breathing swiftly. The bundle lay by her side. She fixed her syes on it and then weeped. She even had no strength to cry. Tears streamed down her cheeks, melting the snowflakes which flied to her face.

        Ten minutes later, the wind became less hard. The woman lay there, motionless. One can see, the scarf was now covered the bundle, and both hands were rested on the scarf as if to make an umbella for the bundle.

        She was dead.

                                        (2)

                               The stepmother

       A she-wolf walked in the snow alone, seeking around for possible prey. In such cold evening of snowfall, where could she find food?

        The she-wolf was feebly walking, as if she was badly wounded, or several day she had no lunch. Her steps seemed heavy, and her eyes looked tired.

        The she-wolf approached a line of bushes to hide from the wind.

        Just one step, she was dumbfounded. She smelled life, of a spirit, not of an animal. Her sharp nose was rather sensitive to blood, and now she smelled blood.

        Before her, the wolf noticed a dead woman lying there, beside whom there was a bundle.

        Who can tell what would happen?

        The greediness and cruelty flashed in her eyes. Hunger and coldness drained all her strength.  

        The she-wolf just bred two wolves three days ago. Kind motherhood made her concious of the scene by instinct. She had no doubt that they were a mother and her bady right under her nose. She smelled the mother a little, and then she smelled the bundle. She knew well that in this bundle there was a baby.

        Yes, the she-wolf smelled the weak breath of the baby, so she bent her head and lowered her mouth to the bundle. She took away the red scarf away with her fangs, and she saw the little pink nose.                           (To be continued)  

       

       

       

                      Go my own way

                                  --------Jesse(Original)

        Go on your own way in the public eye. Since Italian writer Dante blurted out the words about 700 years ago, it has lingered on the lips of many guys. For what? I think it is full of freedom and courage, as well as self-belief.

        Actions in this way demand courage, which is based on self-belief. It sounds free with a kind of romantism.

        As long as you behave well, never glance back. Just head forwards. Everyone is in public in this modern society. Genuinely speaking, we can't slip away without the notice of others. Too much care about others makes one hesitate often. Indeed, we often care about others' small talk, and about others' eyes. Thus we are often subject to others' chat.

        It's quite unnecessary. We are what we are ourselves, and we will be what we want to be. No one can go instead of us.

        If I am a crocodile, I will shed my tears freely, not because I am a crocodile, but because I do have tears. Of course, crocodile tears in English means fake mercy.

        If I behave righteously, I owe no mercy to anyone, how can I be pretending mercy?

        I mean, here, just go on my own way, and let others talk or chat. People like finding faults with others, while they think they are perfect. This is the common practice, and it's a pity that it will last.

        From the craddle to the grave, everyone is no more than himself. Why take great trouble to please others, if they are not your parents, your lover, or your kids? Live your own way as long as it doesnt't disturb others.

        French writer and physicist Pascal said, a human is nothing but a fragile reed, but he has thoughts. Yes, thoughts determine a human being, otherwise, can he be called human? So think before you leap, but never think before you walk in front of others.

        Walk your own way as graceful as a swan, and never mind the critical eyes of the toad.

        If you are a  little better than others, they will certainly envy you, and if you are a lot better than them, and they can't catch up with you, they will glance up at you and envy you, I mean, idolatrize you.

        No exceptions, everyone acts like this, including you and me.

        Rumours and slanders are just srumbs of bread and so just brush them away. It is too much for one to care much. Too heavy a load will be the last straw that crushes the camel. Wear bright make-up, or go plain, is your own choice. It is another business whether others interfere or not. Go your own way in public eyes just as Danter said 700 years ago.

                                08-07-17 PM 10:30-11:30

 

                           The scarecrow in sorrow

                                  --------Jesse(Original)

                                      (1)

        A scarecrow is standing alone in a millet field. He has what a cowboy should have, a straw hat, a vest and jeans, except for a horse. In his hands there is no whip but wind-bells. When a gentle breeze blows, the bells tinkle sweetly.

        Although the millets are still green, his farmer owner sends him here to keep watch. He is obliged to guard the field, that is, keep sparrows, magpies away from the field.

                                  (2)

        Once bandits come, the scarecrow rings his bells bravely. However, some naughty sparrows dare to rest on his shoulders, and dance merrily and wildly to the bells.

        The dutiful scarecrow is enraged with the coming robbers, for he is duty-bound to defend the field. He shakes his wind-bells, but fails, for there is no wind.

        A woodpecker is tired from flighjt, sets foot on his shoulder and peck at his nose of chilli out of friendliness. The scarecrow has great self-respect. He thinks he is mocking him at the very moment. How dare you woodpecker peck at my nose? And it is not wood, but chilli. He shakes his shoulder and compells the woodpecker to miss her foot. She flies away."Bye, little scarecrow."

        The poor scarecrow has no one to turn to for help. He is nearly in tears. Rain or shine, he keeps standing there as a truthful watcher. Even if it rains hard, he never weeps.

        Now the field is invaded, the intruders are having a good taste of the ripeless millet, and he himself is insulted, but he can only shake hard to rattle the bell in vain.

        The poor scarecrow is heart-stricken. He closes his eyes desparingly.

                                     (3)

       At the moment, a whistle makes him conscious. Here comes a litttle girl of about 15-16 years. She stops humming her songs, blows hard the whistle, and the invaders scatter. The field is safe and silent again.

        The scarecrow is overjoyed at this. He gazes at the girl. "what a graceful girl, with sleek hair over her shoulders. she wears a white skirt, and how innocent!"

        "Hullo, little scarecrow, you've been bullied, and I'm too late to help you. What a pity! Now I'm here to be in company with you." He finds the little girl have got a sweet voice.

        He has never so happy as today. A breeze rings his bells, and he is kind of abushed.

        "We can be friends, little scarecrow, sometimes, I will drop in here, I can sing or even  dance for you, and i can read tales for you, because you are too desolate here."

        The word "friends" makes him weepy. He has a brave heart, yet he can't give the sparrow a good beating, and he can't teach the invaders a lesson. He feels wronged in the deep heart.

       "Yes, I have no frield just for the sake of being a scarecrow. If I can choose, I will never choose to be a lonely scarecrow, who lacks everything, including understanding, and friendliness. Although once in a while, the farmer comes to weed the field, but he's never said a word to comfort my lonely heart." The scarecrow is in such high spirits that he nearly jumps with joy.

        For the whole summer vocation, the girl keeps coming here every day, for one hour or two. The scarecrow is happiest every moment he hears the songs, which, he calls the "the tinkle of silver bells."

                                 (4)

        When they are together, she tells stories to him, such as "The Snowwhite and the Seven Dwarfs", "The Prince Charming and the Snowwhite", "The Ugly Duckling" and so on. He listens attentively and from time to time shoots feeling glances at her.

        "She is pretty lovely!" The scarecrow can't help blurting out one day.

        He is in love with her. With her absence, he loses his mind and yearns for her soming anxiously. 30 days lapse away, he is over head and heels in love with her. "I'm in love, and is it real? Does she know? How can I confess to her?"

        He looks at himself, beneath the vest, there is nothing but rice straw. "How can I afford a diamand ring? can I have enough courage to wear a straw ring around her elegant finger?" The scarecrow is afraid to think along.

        Day after day, it is the mental agony that makes him suffer, and it is in bitter pain. "My God, I'm only a scarecrow, nothing else. The irony of fate makes me be born a scarecrow, and my farte never favours me at all."

        "Give me a shoot, Cupid. Do me a favour to fly an arrow into my straw heart, and let me have a go of love. I scare away sparrows, crows, as well as sorrow, but never an arrow. Where are you, Cupid, hiding, and why are you hiding from me?"

        No arrow flies here. When he raises his head, he notices sparrows fly over like arrows. He nearly forgets his bells. He tries all his best to ring, so as to threten them, as a result, he drops the left bell, and it bangs on the ground, but he fails to pick it up.

                                   (5)

       Here comes the whistle in time to give him a hand. The white-skirt girl appears, and she drives the nasty sparrows away just with one whistle.

        The millets are nearly mature, and the field is all yellow. the girl picks a wild flower and inserts it into his chest. The scarecrow is too shy and excied to stare at the flower." What is it, a millet grass or a wild rose?" he says to himself.

        "Little scarecrow, I will go back to school tomorrow, perhaps no one can accompany you here, you will be alone once again. Take care of the millet field, and of course, of yourself. Take care." The little girl whispers gently in his ears. Then she picks the bell up and puts it back into his hand.

        He is half-gay, half-sad. She gives him a flower, which means she cares about him. Yet she is going, perhaps, we will not meet any more, forever.

                                 (6)

        The following day, the fair figure in a white skirt disappears. The little scarecrow is in sorrow all day. He glances sharply at the yellow field, thinking of a good harvest. Yes, he has done a good job, and he has kept a good watch.

        At night, a rain falls, and raindrops stream down his cheeks. The scarecrow remains standing quite alone, thinking over the little girl.

        "Where are you, Cupid, you are too mean to spare me even an arrow." He complains until he falls asleep tearfully.

        A wind lashes away, and the scarecrows falls quietly to the ground, for his tears soak the earth, where he has been standing on watch for  quite a whole summer.

                                        08-07-18 am 6:30--7:30 

   

     

       

       

                         Farewell to the Crown, Cinderella

                                       -------Jesse(Original)

        Cinderella's tale, I think, flashes in the dreams of every humble girl. No one is willing to remain an ugly duckling in the shadows of a white swan.

        I often think of this scene, when the witch hands Cinderella onto the pumpkin carriage, and she rides happily to the ball held by the Prince. Then she runs up the stairs and into the ball out of breath. The ball begins, and the dancing Cinderella is now stunningly beautiful and charming. Then the Prince asks her for a dance. She gives her hand to him.

        It sounds so sweet and warm that everyone may be impressed and deeply moved by the scene. They are the very perfect pair. It is a happy endding without any regret.

        Not all dreams can be turned into realities, just as not all Cinderellas can get a happy endding. Cinderella is happy in the deep heart? No on can tell, only Cinderella herself knows her joy and sorrow. Yeah, it only exists in the fairy tales, in reality, everything goes sour.

        Here comes the real-world version of Cinderella, in which you can find the familia shadow of a famous princess. You guess right. It is just the fairytale of Princess Dianna.

        As a kindergarten teacher, Dianna is happy in the smiles and the songs of the infants. I still think here is nothing but a paradise, a perfect place for young girl, especially for the next-door girl.

         Since Dianna walked into the loyal family, where it is severe and orderly, she lost all the freedom of herself. The crown is too expensive. She paid such a high cost that she had never imagined and expected.

        The prince and Cinderella meet and they walk into the myterious castle in the eyes of the world. He is Prince Charles and Cinderella is Princess Dianna. This is only the fresh start and this is only half the story.

        The life after their expensive wedding is never harmonious. The position of the wife is desolate indeed, which Dianna had to admit. Yet she had no way out and no way back.

        They had two lovely kids, yet they didn't seem an envious couple. Gradually they parted a bit little. finally they just ended up as a loyal pair without real love. Love is nothing but the last fig leaf.

        In Paris of 1998, Dianna didn't expect such an endding was waiting her. A flyover bridge became her Waterloo bridge. Princess Dianna went with the wind after the car stopped its turning wheel.

        I think of the songs "The rose in the wind" by English singer Elton, which is presented to her. Yes, the rose of England is gone, gone forever.

        I think of the inscrīptions of "Beijingers in New York". I, here, make some change, and type it here. If God loves her, send her to the Prince, for he is the Heaven. if God hates her, send her to the Prince, for he is the Hell.

        The crown is glowing with glamour, which blinds  the eyes of Cinderella. Vanity is the Achelese(?)'s heel, which is fatal. If I am a humble girl, I will be desirous to become a white swan. yet in any case, I will not dance with the Prince in a crystal pair of shoes. I will not give my hand to him without thought. Here, I want to say, there is only one Cinderella, who lives in the fairytale. Farewell to the Crown, Cinderella! 

                                                --------Jesse   (Original)

      There is a stream between the wilderness and the civilisation, but it is certainly not the thorough bounary line. Once in a while, possibly just a wink can flash away five hundred years. Just in the same wink, there is a great change between the civiled side and the other wild side. who makes the change? Not the foaming stream, it is only the witness of the change.

      Nothing can last all the way. What is the foaming stream? You can call it Time, and it will, perhaps, be willing to be called that. It is not dumb, but it always remains silent, just nodding now and then. The above is just a wedge, of the following story.

 

                      The foaming stream

                                (1)

      This is a little stream in the wilderness, over which there is no bridge, and perhaps never will. It is 12 feet wide. For some moths, butterflies, dragonflies, and birds, they can fly naturally over it. For the animals and beasts, they never intend to cross it.

      The other side of the stream lies a vast and wide grassland, covered with green grass and some bushes. This side are birch forests, a little mixed up with some pine trees.

      Far away on the horizon stands a chain of snow-capped mountains. Melting snowwater flows down to the feet of the mountains, and then converges into a stream. The strength from the wilderness makes it foam along forward.

      Here embraces the orignal beauty of the wild nature. It's virgin without any influence of the mankind, and everything exists without even any trace of the passing years.

      At the extremely remote end of the grassland, one can say, on the horizonline, rises, once in a while, cooking smoke. There are herdsmen herding their sheep and cattle over there.

      The stream is the dividing line of the wilderness and the human civilisation.

                                     (2)

      Never has a herdsman had any intention to cross the stream over, because they have no idea of its existence. They just watch the sacred snowmountains and the luxuriant forests. Yet they never see the stream from far, for it is hidden between the bushes and the forests.

      Is the foaming stream lusid? They never know and perhaps  never will.

      The cooking smokes rising from the yurts become thicker, at a far distance,  and the stream gets more torrential. The sounds of singing and dancing at night echo the rustles of birch trees.

      Day after day, the herdsmen graze their livestock nearer to the forests, because of the rapid growth of their cattle.

      Of course, every autumn they will as usual drift away with their herds, leaving the grassland for a short rest.

      The following year, they will come back with tents, herds and joy, of course, in order to enjoy a green grassland.

      Where have they gone? Perhaps the farthest end of the horizen.

                                       (3)

      Not a sign of rain. For continuous months, there is no rain at all falling to the thirsty land. Then, winter comes, bringing snow here. A heavy snowfall takes the grassland by surprise. Water pays an unexpected visit to the land, not with rain, but with snow. In any case, they will suffer a lot from the great snowfall.

      The herdsmen can sit by a fire eating  sweet mutton and drinking milk and wine, yet  there is not enough straw prepared for the livestock.

     This is a disastrous winter in their memories.

      The following spring, things get evern worse. A large amount of sheep fall ill, and an infectious disease flashes across the whole grassland.

     In the same fall, grass turnes yellow much earlier than before, and it withers too early for herdsmen to notice.

      The fierce winter comes with no snow, but a sandstorm. Cold wind blows like razor-blade, together with the shooting bullets of quick sands.

      The herdsmen looked sadly over at the snow-clad mountians. They whisper their prayers and finally say prayers louder. Heavens, where is the way out?

     Not an answering sound is heard around them, except the rustles from the remote forests.

      A lad in warm sheep-skin turns away and bends over a little. At last, he kneels down with his bare head on the sandland. Just by his left side a little girl rubs her eyes in the sandstorm.

      "In a wink, I'm grown up, and in the same wink, the grassland is too old,  to recognize......"

                                    (4)

      At the very last, they can't wait in silence and they have to act, otherwise they will fatally be dying. The herdsmen, as well as their herds move willy-nilly westward until they find themselves at the earthen bank of the stream, which they have never imagined. The sight of the stream makes them all startled.

      To their greater atonishment, it is still torrential in this fierce cold winter. There is not any sheet of ice on it, and they have got no wings, how could they fly across? They have not way back. How could they make their way across the wide foaming stream?

      Snowflakes keep flying down hard and heavily. It is towards dusk.

      All is silent and quiet, and it is getting darker and darker.

      No choice. They are desparately in despair. They anxiously whip the herds into the icy water, and then they followed.

      Only the foaming stream looks at the cruel struggling scenes. In the stream, heads bob up and down, and some sheep flow away downstream. Kids are carried on the shoulders and backs of their parents, yet they drift away with their parent.

      Cries and screaming sounds for help cover the silent stream. But no help comes, even a ray of help. 

      The following day, the first dawn glow only catches the sight of a lad standing on the west bank, beside whom a little girl is shivering in the cold wind.

      The foaming stream flows deeply and silently.In the wind comes the rustles of the birch trees and pine trees.

      08-07-14    2:35--4:10pm