《狼图腾》英文版（Wolf Totem），作者姜戎，译者葛浩文，长江文艺出版社2008年3月发行。这是一部迄今为止世界上唯一一部以狼为叙述主体的小说，也是迄今为止世界上唯一一部描绘、研究蒙古草原狼的"旷世奇书"，因狼而起的关于游牧民族生存哲学的重新认识，由于历史的厚重和不可再现，本书成为了这个时代享用不尽关于狼图腾的精神盛宴。该书在中国大陆发行300余万册，连续6年蝉联文学图书畅销榜的前十名，获得各种奖项几十余种。该书在中国出版后，被译为30种语言，在全球110个个国家和地区发行。

基本信息

书籍简介

作者简介(英文)

作者简介(中文)

译者简介

英文版《狼图腾》的看点

《狼图腾》英文版：让世界感受狼的精神

书摘

基本信息

中文书名：狼图腾

英文书名：Wolf Totem

书籍作者：姜戎

书籍译者：葛浩文

图书出版社：长江文艺出版社

出版时间：2008

书籍简介

这是一部以狼为叙事主体的史诗小说，也是迄今为止世界上唯一一部描绘、研究蒙古草原狼的"旷世奇书"，因狼而起的关于游牧民族生存哲学的重新认识，由于历史的厚重和不可再现，本书成为了这个时代享用不尽关于狼图腾的精神盛宴。曾经丰美的蒙古草原已经渐渐消失，那些有关狼的传说和故事正在从人们的记忆中退化，留下的仅仅是一些道德诅咒和刻毒谩骂的文字符号。然而事实上，这是世界上迄今为止惟一一部描绘、研究蒙古草原狼的“旷世奇书”。

由中国长江出版集团北京图书中心出版的中文版《狼图腾》迄今已发行4年多时间，总计发行240万册，连续4年高居中文图书畅销书榜。该书不仅引发中国读者的热议，也引起欧美国家的关注。目前，《狼图腾》已经有了英文版、法文版、意大利版、荷兰版、日文版、韩文版、越南语版，并将陆续出版德文版、俄文版、西班牙文版等，共计26种语言版本。2007年11月，该书的英文书稿荣获曼氏亚洲文学奖，在240部亚洲各国推荐的作品中脱颖而出，摘得唯一的桂冠。

2008年中国奥运之火在世界各地点燃之际，一个迅速燃烧的文化现象登上发达国家的报章：一部描写狼和游牧文化的中国奇书《狼图腾》在3月中旬全球发行。美国的《纽约时报》、《时代周刊》，英国的《泰晤士报》、《卫报》，德国的《明镜周刊》、《德意志报》，意大利的《意大利邮报》，日本的《朝日新闻》、《读卖新闻》等几十个国家的主流报纸和杂志都发表了评论和对作家的专访消息。为了配合《狼图腾》英文版的发行，英文的企鹅出版社在泰晤士河畔搭起了蒙古包，澳大利亚的企鹅在墨尔本召开游牧文化的研讨会，美国的企鹅在落衫矶举办《狼图腾》的读书演讲……

本书由几十个有机连贯的“狼故事”一气呵成，情节紧张激烈而又新奇神秘。读者可从书中每一篇章、每个细节中攫取强烈的阅读快感，令人欲罢不能。那些精灵一般的蒙古草原狼随时从书中呼啸而出：狼的每一次侦察、布阵、伏击、奇袭的高超战术;狼对气象、地形的巧妙利用；狼的视死如归和不屈不挠；狼族中的友爱亲情；狼与草原万物的关系；倔强可爱的小狼在失去自由后艰难的成长过程——无不使我们联想到人类，进而思考人类历史中那些迄今县置未解的一个个疑问：当年区区十几万蒙古骑兵为什么能够横扫欧亚大陆？中华民族今日辽阔疆土由来的深层原因？历史上究竟是华夏文明征服了游牧民族，还是游牧民族一次次为汉民族输血才使中华文明得以延续？为什么中国马背上的民族，从古至今不崇拜马图腾而信奉狼图腾？中华文明从未中断的原因，是否在于中国还存在着一个从未中断的狼图腾文化？于是，我们不能不追思遥想，不能不面对我们曾经辉煌也曾经破碎的山河和历史发出叩问：我们口口声声自诩是炎黄子孙，可知“龙图腾”极有可能是从游牧民族的“狼图腾”演变而来？华厦民族的“龙图腾崇拜”，是否将从此揭秘？我们究竟是龙的传人还是狼的传人？

作者简介(英文)

Jiang Rong was born in Jiangsu in 1946. His father's job saw the family move to Beijing in 1957, graduating from the middle school attached to the China Central Academy of Fine Arts in 1966

His education cut short by events in China, the twenty-one-year-old Jiang volunteered to work in Inner Mongolia's East Ujimchin Banner in 1967, where he lived and labored with the native nomads until the age of thirty-three. He took with him two cases filled with Chinese translations of Western literary classics, and spent eleven years immersed in personal studies of Mongolian history, culture, and tradition. In particular, he developed a fascination for the mythologies surrounding the wolves of the grasslands, spending much of his leisure time learning the stories and raising an orphaned wolf cub.

Following his return to Beijing in 1978, Jiang embarked on postgraduate studies in olitical science at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. Jiang received a Masters degree in law in 1982, and assumed an academic position at a Beijing university. Now retired, he lives in Beijing, with his wife.

作者简介(中文)

姜戎，生于1946年，北京人。北京某大学研究人员。主业为政治经济学，偏重政治学方面。

作者1967年自愿赴内蒙古额仑草原插队。1978年返城。1979年考入社科院研究生院。 其作品《狼图腾》1971年起腹稿于内蒙古锡盟东乌珠穆沁草原。1997年初稿于北京。2003年岁末定稿于北京。2004年4月出版。

译者简介

葛浩文（Howard Goldblatt ），美国著名的翻译家，出生1939年，20世纪60年代服役期间在台湾学习汉语，后获得印第安纳大学中国文学博士学位。　目前是英文世界地位最高的中国文学翻译家。他的翻译严谨而讲究，“让中国文学披上了当代英美文学的色彩”。

葛浩文的翻译清单包括萧红、陈若曦、白先勇、李昂、张洁、杨绛、冯骥才、古华、贾平凹、李锐、刘恒、苏童、老鬼、王朔、莫言、虹影、阿来、朱天文、朱天心、姜戎等二十多位名家的四十多部作品。

英文版《狼图腾》的看点

一、译者葛浩文先生的高超翻译（曾翻译过莫言、王朔、贾平凹、苏童等著名作家作品）公认为是世界第一。

二、为了适应年轻读者和外国读者，译者加注了很多注解，使波澜起伏的故事紧扣心弦，更加小说化和故事化。比中文版更加的酣畅淋漓和回肠荡气！并且英文版荣获亚洲文学奖！

三、英文对比阅读会成为国内英语爱好者的时尚追求。国内的英语爱好者，尤其是大学生和高中生大都读过中文版《狼图腾》，该书的地道的英语翻译水平和对位中文的英语表达，50万字浩瀚的语词文库，一定会使英语爱好者以及大学高中学生们有大块朵颐的阅读快感，极快地提高英语水平。这种持续的口碑最终会将英文版《狼图腾》再度发酵为国内畅销书。

《狼图腾》英文版：让世界感受狼的精神

3月13日下午，《狼图腾》英文版在故宫御膳房全球首发。新闻出版署的部分领导，《狼图腾》英文版翻译、著名翻译家葛浩文等出席了本次首发式。

（以下为本次首发式实录）

长江文艺出版社总编辑安波舜：尊敬的各位来宾、新闻界的朋友们，大家好。能够在凝聚五千年文化的故宫御膳房召开英文版《狼图腾》的首发式，感慨万千。中国的明朝第二代皇帝修建故宫的时候，中国还是相当的开放，产生过郑和下南洋的壮举；但到了清朝坐镇故宫的时候，又闭关锁国，使中国的文明进程和世界各国的文化交流几乎停顿。一百多年以后的今天，我们的国家经过20多年的改革开放，国力增强，和平崛起，与世界各国的文化交流和合作，又迈上一个新的台阶。英文版的《狼图腾》能够在这里举行首发式，就是一个很好的证明。我们的出口的不仅有牛仔裤、皮鞋和袜子，还有文化产品，还有活跃在书中的几十匹草原狼，作为一个出版者和该书的责任编辑，我十分的荣幸。在此，我代表长江出版集团北京图书中心的同事，衷心的感谢新闻出版署的领导和长江出版集团的领导，对我们出版产品“走出去”给予的支持和帮助。更感谢企鹅出版集团对《狼图腾》的一见钟情，并把这种爱，推向世界的文化舞台。

我由衷要感谢的是，《狼图腾》的翻译者葛浩文先生。葛先生是中国读者和文化界熟悉的老朋友，他20多年来，先后翻译过我国著名作家的40多部作品，为中国文学走向世界，促进不同文明和文化之间的对话和交流，做出了巨大的贡献。在今天的中国文坛，提起葛先生，每一个人都肃然起敬。尤其是在翻译《狼图腾》的过程中，他深厚的中英文的学者功底，和对小说艺术的独到见解，使英文版的《狼图腾》增色不少，流畅和生动很多，不仅得到英文读者的喜爱，也得到了曼氏亚洲文学奖评委们的青睐。我作为一个小说编辑，对葛先生的辛勤劳动和艺术智慧，再次的表示感谢。

《狼图腾》中文版出版四年来，共计发行240万册。至今还高居在畅销书榜。销售海外版权26个语种和国家，已经出版的有英文版、法文版、荷兰语版、意大利语版、日文版、韩文版、越南语版，陆续出版的有德语、俄语、土耳其语、西班牙语、葡萄牙语、斯堪维迪亚语、芬兰语、波兰语、塞尔维亚语、希腊语和匈牙利语等。对于这么多国家和语种争先恐后地购买翻译《狼图腾》，是极为罕见的一种出版现象。欣喜之余，我们不能不感谢我们的时代和国家的影响力，感谢2008年北京奥运会带来的东风。

最后预祝英文版《狼图腾》在中国在全球发行成功，也希望大家重读一遍《狼图腾》，让我们共同感受狼的团队精神和独立、自由和尊严，为人类与自然的和谐，为保护美丽而广阔的内蒙古草原祈祷祝福。

谢谢大家!

葛浩文：大家好。我今天能够在汉人的龙图腾的大本营说几句蒙古人的图腾狼，感到非常荣幸。感谢长江出版社给我这个机会。我也感到不好意思：第一，我不是作者，这不是我的经历，也不是我的故事，但让我来代表他，闽南语有句话是：没有鱼，虾也可以。我就当虾吧。《狼图腾》的翻译有很多人，让我来代表，我就既来之，则安之吧。我是生长在大都市的美国佬，从小就怕狼，狼群更可怕。听说二战时德国的特种兵就是狼群。看了这本书后，我还是怕狼，但我对这种动物的认识更多，崇拜他们的生命力，对自然环境的贡献之大。中国眼前的好作家很多，好作品更多，可这些作品在国外行销有很大问题，因为总赶不上中国的电影。问题在行销，在读者，不在作者。中国图书在美国的情况在改良，看着中国，中国除了经济、政治上的现象，我们也注意文化上的现象。我翻译小说，感觉中国的小说一天比一天好。《狼图腾》是一本很特殊的小说，前无古人，后无来者，有些国家已经出版了翻译版，是很大突破。我希望英文版也是个突破，希望读者对内蒙古、对中国的问题有新的认识。

《狼图腾》的故事很强，异国人是关心异国文化的。书中体现的第一是大自然，环保的破坏、生态的破坏。我们应该追寻其中的原因；第二，文化的冲突，汉人、蒙人的冲突，现在这是全球很大的问题，书上没说怎么解决，但能让读者注意到这个问题。感谢长江出版社出版了我的译著，我希望这个翻译对得起作者，对得起书，对得起我的英文读者。

周海伦：我很荣幸今天能来这么美的地方说这么好的话题。《狼图腾》这本书是我们公司最重要的一个项目。三年前买了这本书的英文版权，是我们公司的第一个工作，这三年来时间很长，但对我们来说是很大的工作，也是企业很看重的工作。另外书中的故事是国际性的，包括环保、民族关系等。西方读者看后会感到新鲜。今天很荣幸在中国发行，3月27日我们在全球发行。

新闻出版总署对外交流合作司领导：改革开放三十年，中国有重大变化，国际出版界很重视。我们对外文翻译表示支持。产品、渠道等方面借鉴国内外的资源，长江出版集团做出了不少成绩，《狼图腾》的成功是合作出版的结果。我们鼓励企业探索“走出去”的道路。

周百义：三年前，我们在北京和企鹅集团举行了签约仪式，三年后在故宫举行英文版的首发式，这有着很深远的意义。我作为长江出版集团的一员感谢企鹅集团，感谢亚洲文学奖的评委，感谢姜戎。我们能把这本书推向全世界，得益于每个人的支持。中国的现当代文学在国际上的影响目前还不够显著，但我们相信通过实现中国文化“走出去”的计划，会让全世界的朋友了解变化的中国社会和中国人民。2008年，中国要在北京举办奥运会，周海伦想借这本书把中国文化推向全世界，让全世界的读者在这本书里了解中国文化。我在此预祝这本书的发行能达到企鹅出版集团的目标。

评委：曼氏亚洲文学奖也叫曼氏BOOK文学奖，目的是把亚洲的文学推向英文国家。评委一共三位，我代表另两位评委来讲话很荣幸。作为第一届文学奖的评委，我们希望找到非常优秀的作品，看到《狼图腾》时我们惊喜若狂。虽然三个评委来自三个国家，彼此没有交流，但我们把评选结果放在一起时我们发现我们选的第一名都是《狼图腾》。这本书是一个原创小说，是令人惊喜的小说，展现了中国人是如何看待全世界都关心的话题。就像葛浩文说的，谈论了人与自然、不同文化之前的关系。我坚信这本书在英语世界里的发行会畅销很多年，就像今天的太阳一样，阳光明媚，照耀着我们的首发式。非常恭喜姜戎先生、葛浩文先生，这本书太好了，非常感谢长江出版社与企鹅出版社的合作，把这本书带到全世界。

书中主人公原型：不敢说是杨克的原型，只是有点影子。这本书有个特点，第一是它的真实，那样的生活是我们不能都经历的，第二，它是一种文化，古老的文明打动了我们，第三，这种环境不被别人了解，800年前，蒙古与世界曾有文化交流，而现在国际上又了解了古老的东方文明。

草原牧民朋友代表——小说里天鹅湖畔一村的村长：今天来到这里非常荣幸。我们牧民听说了这件事都很高兴。我们也在保护《狼图腾》故地的生活环境。

记者：问葛浩文先生，您下一部会翻译什么书？问长江文艺出版社(blog)的领导，有没有影视改编的意向？

葛浩文：刚出了莫言的《生死疲劳》，另一个很有意思的小说，张炜的《古船》。

安波舜：我们正在做工作，几年前，出版半年后影视版权就卖给了紫金城影视公司，目前很多艺术形态的公司都在和我们联系。

记者：问葛浩文先生，您小时候是怕狼的，您译完这本书对狼的感觉有变化吗？您对这本书的翻译过程中有没有超越原创之处？

葛浩文：我没见过狼，只是在文学作品中听说过的狼印象不好。翻译过程对我来说是例外。我看了三章五章时就决定边读边译，我想读者想感到的惊讶的情感，我翻的时候也要感到。比如杨克看到天鹅湖的感触，我想到了我小时看到美景的感触。超过原著的地方我没有这么大的才气，我还是尊重原著的。我没有看完后再译，是想把感情放进去。作者也是学历史的，我没流过血，但他流的泪我还是流过的。

记者：译者的受众在外国的读者。您怎样把蒙古的文化更好的传达给自己的读者？问国家出版社署的领导，中国好多优秀的现当代作品在国外的翻译状况，产生的影响如何？

葛浩文：我最大的导师就是文本，我没去蒙古，也当过中国人，我看书时看到几十年以前的内蒙古，以文本为主，把作者写的感情译出来。

周海伦：国外市场中，《狼图腾》正在发行，我们还不知道结果。姜戎先生已经接受了几十个国外媒体的采访，葛浩文先生也在回答媒体提问。我们还会做一些电视短片，各国人都会在网上看到。很多人在我们出版之前就知道了这本书，评价很好，这个判断是最重要的。我们可以营销和推广，但最有效的方式就是读者之间的评价。

总署领导：我们现在的任务就是鼓励出版企业的品牌建设和“走出去”。今天我们参加这个活动，主要想法是：这本书是以商业模式运作出去的产品。前几年，政府的政策是做出了出版计划，近年工作力度在加大，但也强调市场运作的方式。我们接触出版企业的同行，《红楼梦》(红楼梦吧)西方人知道的不多，如果直接翻译出去，人们对这本书不了解，也就不会有影响力，我们设想可以借用中国古代男女恋爱方式这种话题来传达。走出去不可能不挣钱，宣传方式是我们要考虑的，以后的调研工作还要加强。

记者：问葛浩文先生，中国电影在西方得到一定认可，但也有很多人认为只是满足了西方人的猎奇心理，您认为《狼图腾》会不会也这样？您译过中国人的很多作品，您能否看出中国作品的进步？姜戎不是专业作家，有评论认为50年代生人的作家是不了解中国国情变化的，您怎么看？

葛浩文：我是外来的和尚，我只能回答你美国读者的现状。我对电影也不是专家，我对小说的评价也是个人喜好。美国有点脑筋的读者都喜欢看好小说，他们认为好小说都是英语写的，不必要看译书，但如今美国人也是向外看的，看全球作品的。《狼图腾》很好，《青衣》(青衣吧)在英国已经有反响了，这样有反响的作品多了，中国的好事情就来了。

记者：问葛浩文先生，听说在翻译过程中，您有增删，是这样吗？出于什么考虑？

葛浩文：是编辑部有所删除。导言我就没有译。编辑部说读者要看的是小说内容，这些社科方面的文献就不用译了。我征求了作者的同意，就这样删了。文字上应该不算增加，中国三个字可能英文变成了一句话，但内容没有增加。

记者：书要拍成电影吗？

安波舜：听说紫禁城电影公司正在协商，目前进展不详。

记者：问葛浩文先生，您翻译过程中，觉得中国的作品与国外的作品相比有什么特点，哪些东西是西方读者感兴趣的？

葛浩文：各有春秋。最大的特点是语言，但翻译后这个特点就取消了。技巧有相当的区别，所以有一段时间，中国作家受西方莫克小说影响，不是写坏了，而是没写自己的东西，当然这个时间已经过去了。

书摘

As Chen Zhen looked through the telescope from his hiding place in the snow cave, he saw the steely gaze of a Mongolian grassland wolf. The fine hairs on his body rose up like porcupine quills, virtually pulling his shirt away from his skin. Old Man Bilgee was there beside him. This time Chen did not feel as if his soul had been driven out of his body, but sweat oozed from his pores. He had been on the grassland two years but still had not lost his fear of Mongolian wolves, especially in packs. Now he was face to face with a large pack deep in the mountains, far from camp, his misty breath quivering in the air. Neither he nor Bilgee was armed—no rifles, no knives, no lasso poles, not even something as simple as a pair of metal stirrups. All they had were two herding clubs, and if the wolves picked up their scent, their sky burial would come early.

Chen exhaled nervously as he turned to look at the old man, who was watching the wolf encirclement through the other telescope. “You’re going to need more courage than that,” Bilgee said softly. “You’re like a sheep. A fear of wolves is in your Chinese bones. That’s the only expla—nation for why you people have never won a fight out here.” Getting no response, he leaned over and whispered, “Get a grip on yourself. If they spot any movement from us, we’ll be in real trouble.” Chen nodded and scooped up a handful of snow, which he squeezed into a ball of ice.

The herd of Mongolian gazelles was grazing on a nearby slope, unaware of the wolf pack, which was tightening the noose, drawing closer to the men’s snow cave. Not daring to move, Chen felt frozen in place, like an ice sculpture. This was Chen’s second encounter with a wolf pack since coming to the grassland. A palpitating fear from his first encounter coursed through his veins.

Two years earlier, in late November, he had arrived in the border—region pasture as a production team member from Beijing; snow cov—ered the land as far as the eye could see. The Olonbulag is located southwest of the Great Xing’an mountain range, directly north of Bei—jing; it shares a border with Outer Mongolia. Historically, it was the southern passage between Manchuria and the Mongolian steppes, and, as such, the site of battles between a host of peoples and nomadic tribes, as well as a territory in which the potential struggles for dominance by nomads and farmers was ever present.

Yurts had not yet been assigned to the Beijing students, the so-called educated youth, so Chen had been sent to live with Old Man Bilgee and his family, and given duties as a shepherd. One day slightly more than a month after his arrival, he and the old man were sent to headquarters, some eighty li, to fetch study materials and purchase daily necessities. Just before they were to head back, the old man was summoned to a meeting of the revolutionary committee. Since headquarters had said the study materials had to be delivered without delay, Chen was told to return alone.

As he was about to leave, the old man swapped horses with him, lending him his big, dark mount, a fast horse that knew the way. Bilgee warned Chen not to take a shortcut, but to follow the wagon road back; since there were yurts every twenty or thirty li, he ought to be able to make the trip without incident.

As soon as he was in the saddle and on his way, Chen sensed the power of his Mongol horse and felt the urge to gallop at full speed. When they reached a ridge from which he could see the peak of Chaganuul Moun—tain, where the brigade was quartered, he forgot the old man’s warning and left the road— which curved around the mountain, adding twenty li to the trip—to take a shortcut that led straight to camp.

The temperature began to fall, and when he was about halfway home, the sun shivered from the deepening cold before retreating to the horizon and slipping from view. Frigid air from the snowy ground rose up, turn—ing Chen’s leather duster hard and brittle. The hide of his mount was covered with a layer of sweat-frost. Their pace slowed as the snow deep—ened and little hillocks rose in their path. They were deep in the wilds, far from all signs of habitation. The horse trotted on, straight and smooth, so Chen relaxed the pressure on the bit to let the horse determine the pace and direction, as well as how hard it wanted to work. For no obvious reason, Chen suddenly tensed; he shuddered, becoming fearful that the horse might lose its way, fearful that the weather would turn ugly, fearful of being caught in a snowstorm, and fearful of freezing to death on the glacial grassland. The only thing he forgot to fear was the wolves.

Just before they reached a ravine, the horse stopped, pointing toward a spot down the ravine. It tossed its head and snorted, its pace no longer steady. Chen Zhen, who had never before ridden alone deep into the snowy grassland, had no inkling of the danger ahead. But the agitated horse, its nostrils flaring, its eyes wide, turned to head away from what lay in front of them. Its intuition was lost on Chen, who pulled the reins taut to turn the animal’s head and keep it moving forward at a trot. Its gait grew increasingly jerky, an erratic combination of walking, trotting, and jolting, as if the animal might bolt at any moment. Chen pulled back hard on the reins.

As if frustrated that its warning signals were not being heeded, the horse turned and nipped at its rider’s felt boot, and at that moment Chen recognized the danger facing them by the fear in the horse’s eyes. But it was too late, for the horse had carried him into the flared opening of a gloomy ravine on trembling legs.

Chen turned to look down the ravine and was so terrified he nearly fell off the horse. There on a snow-covered slope not less than fifty yards away was a pack of golden-hued, murderous-looking Mongolian wolves, all watching him straight on or out of the corners of their eyes, their gazes boring into him like needles. The closest wolves were the biggest, easily the size of leopards and at least twice the size of the wolves he’d seen in the Beijing Zoo, half again as tall and as long, nose to tail. All dozen or so of the larger wolves had been sitting on the snowy ground, but they immediately stood up, their tails stretched out straight, like swords about to be unsheathed, or arrows on a taut bowstring. They were poised to pounce. The alpha male, surrounded by the others, was a gray wolf whose nearly white neck, chest, and abdomen shone like white gold. The pack consisted of thirty or forty animals.

Afterward, when Chen and Bilgee were rehashing the circumstances of the encounter, the old man wiped his sweaty brow with his finger and said, “They must have been holding a council. The alpha male was likely passing out assignments for an attack on a herd of horses on the other side of the hill. You’d have realized your luck had you known that when their coats shine, they aren’t hungry.”

In fact, Chen’s mind was wiped clean the moment he spotted them, and the last thing he recalled was a muted but terrifying sound rising up to the top of his head, not unlike the thin whistle you get by blow—ing on the edge of a coin. It must have been the ping his soul made as it tore through his crown on its way out. He felt that his life had stopped for a minute or more.

Long afterward, whenever he recalled his encounter with the wolf pack, he silently thanked Papa Bilgee and his dark horse. The only reason he hadn’t fallen off was that the animal had lived its entire life in wolf territory, a battle-tested horse perfectly suited to the hunt. At the critical moment, as their lives hung in the balance, the horse grew extraordinarily calm. Acting as if it didn’t even see the pack or that it had any intention of interrupting their council, it continued on at a leisurely, just-passing-through pace. With all the courage it possessed, and in full control of its hooves, it neither struggled to keep moving nor broke into a panicky gallop, but carried its rider at a steady pace that allowed Chen to sit up straight.

Maybe it was the horse’s extraordinary courage that summoned back Chen’s departed soul, but when that spirit, which had hovered in the frigid air for a moment, returned to his body, he felt reborn and was extraordinarily tranquil.

He forced himself to sit firmly in the saddle. Taking his cue from the horse, he pretended not to have seen the pack, though nervously keeping them in sight. He knew all about the speed of wolves on the Mongolian grassland. It would take but seconds to close the gap. And he knew how important it was not to show fear. That was the only way to avoid an attack by these grassland killers.

He sensed that the alpha male was gazing at the hill behind them; all the other members of the pack turned their pointed ears in the same direction, like radar locking on to a target. They silently awaited orders as the unarmed man and his horse pranced boldly past them; the alpha male and his followers were not sure what to make of this.

The sunset slowly faded away as man and horse drew ever nearer. The next couple of dozen steps comprised the longest journey of Chen Zhen’s life. A few steps into that journey, he sensed that one of the wolves had run up to the snow-covered slope behind him, and he knew intuitively that it was a scout sent by the alpha male to see if other troops lay in wait. Chen felt his soul straining to leave again.

The horse’s gait faltered slightly; Chen’s legs and the horse’s flanks were trembling. The horse turned its ears to the rear, nervously moni—toring the scout wolf ’s movements. Chen imagined himself passing through an enormous wolf ’s maw, with rows of razor-sharp teeth above and below; once he was in the middle, the mouth would snap shut. The horse began to gather its strength in its rear legs, preparing for a mortal engagement. But the burden on its back put it at a terrible disadvantage.

Suddenly, Chen Zhen, like the shepherd he was supposed to be, appealed to Tengger, Mongol heaven, in a moment of peril: Wise and powerful heaven, Tengger, reach out and give me your hand. Next he summoned Papa Bilgee under his breath. In the Mongol language, Bil—gee means “Wise One.” If only the old man would find a way to trans—mit his knowledge of the grassland directly into his brain. No echoes anywhere disturbed the stillness of the Olonbulag. Gripped by despair, Chen raised his eyes, wanting the last thing he saw to be the ice blue beauty of the heavens.

Then something Papa had said dropped from the sky and struck his eardrum like a thunderclap: Wolves are afraid of rifles, lasso poles, and anything made of metal. He had no rifle and no lasso pole, but did he have anything made of metal? His foot felt warm. Yes! There under his feet were two large metal stirrups. His legs twitched excitedly.

Papa Bilgee had lent him his horse, but the saddle was Chen’s. No wonder the old man had picked out the largest stirrups he could find for him at the beginning; it was as if he knew that someday they would come to Chen’s rescue. Back then, when he was learning to ride, the old man had said that not only did small stirrups make staying in the sad—dle difficult, but if the horse bucked you off, your foot could get caught and you could be dragged along, which could lead to serious injury or death. These stirrups, with their large openings and rounded bottoms, were twice the size of the more common small-mouthed, fl at- bottomed ones, and double the weight.

The pack was waiting for the scout’s report; horse and rider were now directly opposite them. Chen quickly removed his feet from the stirrups, reached down, and pulled them up by their leather straps. Holding one in each hand, and calling upon all his strength, he spun the horse around, roared in the direction of the wolf pack, raised the heavy stirrups chest-high, and banged them together.

Clang clang . . .

A crisp, ear-splitting clang, like a hammer on an anvil, tore through the silent air of the grassland and straight into the ears and the seats of courage of every wolf in the pack, like a sword. Nonnatural metal—lic noises frighten wolves more than any thunderstorm; they produce a sound that has a greater and more devastating impact on them than the snap of a hunter’s trap.

The wolves trembled when the first clangs from Chen’s stirrups reso—nated in the air. The next burst sent them turning away; led by the alpha wolf, they fled into the mountains like a yellow storm, their ears pinned against their heads and their necks pulled into their shoulders. Even the scout abandoned its mission and followed the other members of the pack in fl ight.

Chen Zhen could hardly believe his eyes as he watched the wolves frightened off by a pair of metal stirrups. As his courage made its belated return, he banged the stirrups together wildly, then windmilled his arms like a shepherd and shouted, “Hurry! Hurry! There are wolves everywhere!”

For all he knew, the wolves understood Mongol and knew the mean—ing of human gestures; perhaps they’d been frightened into dispersal by what they’d assumed was a trap laid by hunters.

But they dispersed in orderly fashion, maintaining the ancient orga—nizational unity and group formation characteristic of grassland wolves: The most ferocious members serve as a vanguard, with the alpha male out in front, the pack’s larger wolves behind it. There is never any of the confusion commonly seen among fleeing birds and other wild animals. Chen was overwhelmed by the sight.

In a moment, the pack had vanished without a trace, and all that remained in the ravine were a white mist and swirling flakes of snow.

By then night had fallen. Before Chen could step fully into the stir—rups again, his horse took off like a shot, racing toward the nearest camp. Frigid air seeped into Chen’s collar and sleeves; the cold sweat on his body had turned to ice.

Having escaped from the wolf ’s maw, he became an immediate con—vert to the devotion paid to Tengger, just like his Mongol hosts. He also developed a complex attitude of fear, reverence, and infatuation toward the Mongolian wolf. It had touched his soul. How could it possess such a powerful attraction?

Chen did not catch sight of another wolf pack over the next two years. During the day he tended his sheep, occasionally spotting a lone wolf, maybe two, off in the distance. Even when he was far from camp, he never saw more than four or five at one time. Often, however, he came across the remains of sheep or cattle or horses that had been killed by wolves, individually or in packs. There might be one or two dead sheep, two or three cows, and maybe three or four horses; but sometimes carcasses would be strewn over a wide area. When he was out making calls on people, he regularly saw wolf pelts hanging on tall poles, like flags waving in the wind.

Now Bilgee lay fl at in the snow cave, not moving a muscle, his eyes glued to the gazelles grazing on the slope and the wolf pack that was inching nearer. “Stay calm,” he whispered to Chen. “The first thing you need to learn as a hunter is patience.”

Having Bilgee beside him was comforting. Chen rubbed his eyes to clear away the mist and blinked calmly at Bilgee, then raised his tele—scope again to watch the gazelles and the wolves. The pack still had not given itself away.

Since his earlier encounter with the wolves, he had come to under—stand that the inhabitants of the grassland, the nomads, were never far from being surrounded by wolves. Nearly every night he spotted ghostly wolf outlines, especially during the frigid winter; two or three, perhaps five or six, and as many as a dozen pairs of glittering green lights mov—ing around the perimeter of the grazing land, as far as a hundred li or more distant. One night he and Bilgee’s daughter-in-law Gasmai, aided by flashlights, counted twenty- five of them.