After chasing for about two li along the mountain path, under a protruding rock wall, David Thompson discovered a cave entrance. The bloodstains left by the vicious wolf had already faded here, but still trailed intermittently into the depths of the cave. David Thompson turned sideways, pressing himself against the rock wall. In one hand he held a knife, and with the other he picked up a stone and threw it inside.

The stone bounced around noisily in the cave, but no wild beast was startled out. David Thompson squatted at the cave entrance for a moment, hearing no heavy breathing from within. Gritting his teeth, he mustered his courage and ventured inside.

The cave was not deep, and its entrance faced west. At this moment, the last rays of the setting sun happened to shine in, faintly illuminating a gray-black wild wolf. The wolf had a long arrow stuck in its belly, its whole body black and red. The feathers at the arrow’s tail were already worn down—it was clearly the one David Thompson had shot in his panic. He could only sigh at the beast’s tenacity; even after suffering such a grave wound, it had managed to crawl back to its den.

Seeing that there was only one injured wolf, David Thompson grew bolder, raising his knife and preparing to “skin it for its pelt.” Before he could get close, a low whimper sounded by his ear, and the wolf’s forelimb suddenly moved.

“Swish!” Cold sweat instantly broke out on David Thompson’s forehead. He quickly retreated two steps, back against the rock wall, brandishing his curved knife up and down. Yet the wolf seemed to have fallen asleep, making no further movement. It neither stood up to fight David Thompson desperately, nor tried to crawl out of the cave to escape.

“Bang, bang, bang!” David Thompson could hear his own heartbeat echoing in the cave, his throat burning with an indescribable thirst. Summoning his courage, he stepped forward again, discovering that the wolf’s eyes had already lost their luster. Beneath its forelimb, a tiny head was desperately sucking the last drops of milk.

A wolf pup! David Thompson rushed over, grabbed the furry little wolf, and raised his hand, intending to smash it against the rock. But the warm, soft feeling in his palm made him hesitate. As he paused, the little wolf, eyes still closed, began to suck at the edge of his palm.

For a moment, David Thompson was at a loss. No one in the village had ever raised a wolf. Even if some mischievous child happened to dig up a wolf pup, the parents would quickly throw it out into the wild. Wolves are fiercely protective of their young; following the scent of their pups, a mother wolf would travel for miles to fight for them. Only when you returned the pup would she leave. Otherwise, today she’d harm your donkeys and horses, tomorrow she’d steal your chickens and ducks—there would be no end to it.

But today, this wolf pup’s mother had already died by David Thompson’s arrow, so there was no need to worry about revenge. As for whether he could raise the wolf into a good hunting dog, he had no experience at all. While he hesitated, the little wolf, unable to get any milk from the edge of his palm, began to whimper.

At the sound, David Thompson’s heart immediately softened. He untied the pouch at his waist, fashioned a slanting shoulder bag, and put the wolf pup inside. Then he put away his short knife, stepped forward, grabbed the wolf’s leg, and began dragging it out of the cave step by step.

With the trail of blood as a guide, David Thompson managed not to get lost. Careful by nature, he was afraid of damaging the wolf’s pelt and not being able to sell it for a good price, so he found some vines and wove a sled, becoming the wolf’s hauler. Dragging the sled, he followed the blood trail for quite a while before finally finding the wild roe deer he had hidden. He combined the two sleds into one, resting every three steps and pausing every five, panting as he made his way down the mountain.

With such a heavy burden, the descent became even harder. Whenever he came to a steep spot, David Thompson had to lower the game down one by one with vines, then drop the sled from the tree, and finally climb down himself. Once at the bottom, he had to reload the game onto the sled and pull it forward again. After repeating this process several times, he had no idea how long it took before he finally saw the faint lights of the village.

By the time he reached the village entrance, it was completely dark. The steward Uncle John was holding a wind lantern, anxiously looking around. When he saw David Thompson’s figure, he hurried over, scolding loudly, “Oh my little ancestor, where have you been? Old Master and Madam have been waiting anxiously. If you didn’t show up soon, they’d have gathered the clan to search the mountain for you!”

“I hunted two big wild animals and couldn’t carry them, so I came down late!” David Thompson replied with an apologetic smile, explaining in a low voice. He pointed to the roe deer and wild wolf on the sled, a surge of pride rising in his heart.

“You, you—tonight when Old Master uses the family rod, who will plead for you!” The old steward John Thompson saw the huge wild wolf and, instead of being pleased, grew angry, pointing at David Thompson and scolding, “All those years of study wasted! With your parents still alive, you shouldn’t risk your life! Why go fight a wild wolf? If something happened to you, who would support this family in the future? Who would care for your parents in their old age? You heartless child, just wait and see how Old Master skins you tonight!”

“Uncle John, Uncle John, I’m back safe and sound, aren’t I? Besides, hunting a wolf isn’t really that dangerous. Didn’t our ancestors shoot tigers with bows?” David Thompson clung to Uncle John’s arm, begging for mercy. The Thompson clan prided themselves on being descendants of the Han dynasty’s Flying General Li Guang, and every clansman took pride in their ancestors’ deeds. Sure enough, invoking the heroic deeds of his forebears was persuasive. Old John Thompson’s scolding stopped, and he shoved the lantern into David Thompson’s hand, bent down to grab the vines, and barked angrily, “Take this and light the way ahead. When you see your mother, say you were back before dark. You met your classmates at the foot of the mountain and were showing off your catch, that’s why you’re late!”

“Yes, Uncle John!” David Thompson replied happily. He reached out to grab the other end of the sled and, together with the steward, marched proudly toward home.

Seeing her son return safely, and with two large animals in tow, Mrs. Thompson-Bolton was indeed delighted. Before Charles Thompson could question him, she had already pressed a warm towel to her son’s face, wiping away the blood and dirt as she praised, “Only my son is so capable—just fourteen and already able to shoot a gray wolf with an arrow. Back in the day, our ancestors shot tigers at midnight…”