Dusk on the grasslands teems with life, especially in summer. In the distance, a herd of gazelles were climbing along a steep, bumpy ridge, their shadows flashing across the landscape like flapping wings. The grass was golden in the light of the sunset.
Every day repeated the one before, and Kelsang’s first birthday passed before anyone realized it. During that year, the young mastiff followed his master’s family to their winter pasture before returning to the same stretch of grasslands for the summer.
That spring he had killed his first wolf, an old animal almost deranged with hunger. He hadn’t wasted much energy killing it. The wolf was so weak it could barely move its head.
Kelsang was no longer struck by the uncontrollable trembling that had overcome him that first time — the kill came naturally to him now. He chased all the hunger-crazed wolves that came near with a calm focus, taking quick command and pushing them to the ground with ease. On one occasion, he even managed to fend off an attack by two wolves at once. Tenzin was surprised that a year-old mastiff was capable of such feats, and he rejoiced that he had chosen to keep this fine specimen from the litter.
Before the vehicle arrived, Kelsang’s acute sense of hearing picked up a humming sound, like a bee colony on the move. A slight feeling of excitement welled up inside him, and he looked expectantly toward the horizon. Not two minutes later, a hump-backed shiny beetle of a jeep appeared, a piercing light glinting off its windows.
Cars would pass through from time to time, each one bringing strange and exciting smells. The campsite was a few miles from a single-lane road that was soon to be abandoned in favor of a new highway. Only a couple of vehicles at most would drive past each month, and of those, only a few ever came up to the camp, usually in search of water or other supplies. Kelsang would gallop toward the vehicle, his frightening bark forcing his master to restrain him. Today was no exception. As the jeep carefully pulled into the campsite, gleaming in the light of the setting sun, Kelsang charged forward, biting at the tires, the rubber squeaking between his teeth.
Two men staggered from the jeep, their legs numb with pins and needles. But they still hurried to greet the master warmly with the traditional tashi delek, as was the Tibetan custom. Their gaze lingered on the mountains, painted golden yellow in the setting sun, before they followed Tenzin into the yurt. The smell of butter tea was even more alluring after a day of jostling on a surface so rough it could hardly be called a road.
Kelsang had already lost interest in the two travelers, and he turned his attention back up to those same snow-capped mountains. They towered on the edge of the grasslands like sharpened knives, like molten gold shaped by the wind, lightly dusted in snow and then cut open, their highest peaks swaying in the rushing air and slicing through the golden clouds.
The wind blew down from the mountains, carrying with it a whiff of snow. Deep within it was another smell that seared Kelsang’s nostrils like a hot needle, forcing him to bring his gaze back from the golden clouds fluttering atop the highest peak. As he stood up under the weight of his chains, he spotted a gray shadow resting in a shallow depression not far from the flock. What he saw confirmed what his sense of smell had already told him. It was a lone wolf trying to take advantage of the herdsman’s nap time to find itself some food.
Kelsang barked and roared, trying to throw off the chains fastened around his neck. Master emerged from the yurt, recognizing that this was no ordinary bark. Shielding his eyes from the last rays of sun, he looked out toward the sheep but didn’t see the salt-and-pepper colored wolf pressed against the ground. Still, he undid the chains that were now stretched taut under the strain of Kelsang’s pulling.
The wolf had overestimated its own abilities and was so convinced of its superior hiding skills that it refused to accept that the raging mastiff had spotted it. But it had not chosen its hiding place well, and being upwind from the yurt, Kelsang had easily picked up its scent. Only when he was just ten yards away did the wolf reluctantly cast a last glance at the beautifully plump lamb within its reach and make a dash for the depths of the grasslands.
In just a few bounds, Kelsang was sure he would succeed. The wolf had clearly not made a catch in a very long time. It looked like a small leaf blowing in the wind, its thin fur just barely covering the sharp outline of its rib cage. Before long, its tongue was drooping from its mouth, and it kept turning to look at Kelsang as he drew closer and closer.
Kelsang didn’t let the wolf run out of Master’s sight and came within three yards of it without much effort. He was perfecting his attack technique with each new chase. The wolf stumbled over a mound of earth that appeared to have been dug up by some small animal, only just managing to steady itself with a few broken steps. But this cost it another couple of yards, and Kelsang’s nose nearly brushed up against its tail.
Kelsang summoned all his energy to leap forward and bite the wolf’s middle. The wolf was fooled and turned around to bite back, a last-ditch attempt in the face of a hopeless situation. But Kelsang’s trick move had left the wolf’s neck exposed, right under his nose. It was only natural for him to bite into it. He lifted the wolf, planted his own feet firmly on the ground and violently shook its neck.
From the outset, the creature’s fate was sealed. After such a strenuous attempt at a getaway, the wolf’s heart was ready to burst. It was unimaginably light, and as it sailed out of Kelsang’s mouth, bubbles of dark blood flew from the gaping hole in its neck.
Kelsang watched as the wolf’s legs twitched, then bit hold of its neck again and sauntered back to the yurt. He dropped the wolf at the door, where Master and the two strangers were waiting. Master stroked the top of his head and slipped a piece of dried meat into his mouth. Kelsang was in no hurry to swallow it, instead baring his bloodstained teeth as he chewed. He growled at the two strangers who were cowering behind Master. Tenzin scolded him quietly, then grabbed him by the neck, led him over to his wooden post and fastened his chains.
As darkness fell, the two strangers stepped out of the yurt to take a walk after their evening meal. They slowly approached Kelsang, who was lying in the grass, edging closer only when they saw that he was tied up.
The mastiff had a large square head, with a broad forehead, short muzzle and wide nose, and he had the most muscular neck they had ever seen. His thick tail spun behind his body, which was covered in a dense coat of fur so black that it shone blue in the evening light. The dog was strong — you could tell from the way he had flung the dead wolf on the ground like a piece of cloth.
The tall skinny man wanted a closer look, and ignoring his friend’s warnings, he crept forward a few steps. The other man stood farther away where he felt safe, remembering how the dog had charged at the jeep when they drove into the campsite. He had attacked their tires like a shark closing in on its prey. The man had felt the solid tires clank as if they’d been struck by a piece of iron, and he’d only dared step out of the vehicle to greet the herdsman once Kelsang had been tied up. The dog had looked at him coldly as he deposited the shredded wolf and had shown no response to his master’s caresses. That wolf had been no scarier than a chicken to this dog. There was no way the man would have come this close if he hadn’t known that the dog was tied to the post, and that the post was dug firmly into the ground.
Of course, Kelsang couldn’t have known that while he was fully focused on chasing the wolf, the two men and Master had been watching him. The tall skinny man had a pair of binoculars, and he saw the precision with which Kelsang aimed for the wolf’s main neck artery, rupturing it with just one bite. He saw the tiniest threads of bright red blood pump from the wound, slowing to a trickle like a drying spring. And yet the dog still didn’t stop shaking the wolf. Only when he grew bored did he fling the animal to the ground like a lump of dough, its head almost completely severed from its body.
“Kelsang,” he said to the dog lying on the ground. He had learned the mastiff’s name from Te
nzin. Kelsang looked up with an air of studied ignorance, an expression that said nothing bothered him. He was like a completely different dog from the one who had just ripped the wolf to pieces.
Perhaps the tall skinny man was deceived by Kelsang’s feigned indifference. He had approached many dogs in the past, and usually after an attack like that they had no fighting instinct left. Or perhaps it was because his belly was full of the master’s delicious food that he abandoned his usual caution and continued to edge closer.
Before he could take another step, a wall of black rose up in front of him. His friend called out in alarm. The tall skinny man scrambled out of reach like a trembling stick insect. He looked back at the giant dog, straining at his clanging chains. Kelsang’s eyes were like two licks of fire flickering in his black fur, his gaze practically burning a hole in the man’s flesh.
Kelsang spat out a piece of cloth and lay down again on his warm patch of grass. He didn’t like the smell of that scrap of sleeve, but now he could add suntan lotion to his collection of known and recognized smells.
“You call that a dog? It’s more like a lion!” the man said. He scrambled to his feet and began to brush the dirt and grass from his torn clothes. He was trying to draw attention away from his pallid cheeks, although, of course, it might have been the altitude that made him so pale, and not Kelsang’s attack.
“They’re scary dogs,” said his companion, hugging himself as he retreated. “I’ve heard people say that a genuine mastiff from the plateau can kill three wolves at once, and maybe even a panther. Seems like they might be right.”
“Of course they’re right. These dogs survive where humans struggle. Two thousand years ago they spread to ancient Greece, then through the Roman Empire until they found themselves in Eastern Europe. Now all the world’s most vicious dogs are descended from the Tibetan mastiff. He’s grandfather to the grandfather of them all.” The tall skinny man was grateful to have found a topic of conversation to show off his knowledge and to make his companion forget how fearful he’d been.
His friend decided that maybe he should read up on these dangerous breeds. Perhaps the look in the man’s eyes made Kelsang uncomfortable, because he suddenly leapt to his feet and pulled at his chains. In the dusk light, he looked even more magnificent. The two men sighed in admiration and stepped farther away.
“I’ve got a friend in Chengdu who kept two purebred German shepherds to guard his house,” said the tall skinny man. “But one night burglars tied them up and stole everything and then made off with the dogs as well. The dogs didn’t make a sound when the burglars came in, so he ended up wasting over a thousand yuan a month on food alone. He asked me to help him find a purebred Tibetan mastiff — he’s heard they’re the only dogs that can really guard a house. Let’s see if we can take this one back.”
“What? Take this dog thousands of miles back to Chengdu?” Maybe the lack of oxygen had gone to his friend’s head.
“Or we could take him to Lhasa and sell him at a specialist mastiff market. He’d fetch a ton,” the tall skinny man said. He’d be able to buy a pick-up and start his gemstone business with the proceeds, he thought, growing more excited.
“But herdsmen don’t tend to sell their dogs, do they?” the other man said, not wanting to dampen his friend’s mood, but identifying a real problem.
“Nothing’s impossible, especially up here on the plateau.” The tall skinny man went to the trunk of the jeep and brought out two bottles. Then the two men slipped back into the warm glow of the yurt.
Kelsang leapt to his feet and pulled at his chains again, but to no avail. He sensed that something ominous was about to happen. The men’s strange behavior was enough to make him sure of that.
The journey seemed very long.
Through the back window of the jeep, all that could be seen was the black outline of the yurt growing ever dimmer in the open stretch of landscape. Kelsang finally settled down after being extremely restless. But the strangeness of everything still frightened him. The stench of gasoline made him feel dizzy, and he felt nauseous from the scent of plastic and cigarette smoke that permeated the jeep’s fittings. He had arrived in a world full of new smells.
The instant the outline of the yurt disappeared, an emptiness like he had never experienced before gripped Kelsang’s fluttering heart. It felt like something had been whipped away from him. He thought he was a grown-up dog who could face anything bravely, but that feeling of security had vanished suddenly back at the camp, and now it was completely gone. He had no option but to lie back down and give himself time to think.
Early that morning, Kelsang had heard Master’s footsteps, usually so firm and sure, stumbling out of the yurt. Master approached with a blank look on his face, the two strangers following him. There was something strange about the atmosphere of the camp, but Kelsang slowly stood up to greet his master, pretending nothing was wrong. Mistress and her son stood by the yurt’s entrance watching. Master’s eyes were glazed over, and he seemed to have no control over his steps, nearly falling on top of Kelsang.
A stink was coming from his body, a smell Kelsang had never encountered before. From then on, he would always remember the smell of alcohol because it marked such a dramatic change in his fate. The smell and Master’s clumsy movements made him feel uncomfortable. Master seemed concerned that he hadn’t tied him tightly enough. He had already fastened another chain around Kelsang’s neck, and still not content, began to wrap more chains around his middle.
Kelsang shook his head with displeasure. Irritated, Master muttered something and boxed his left ear. The resentment and humiliation Kelsang felt were worse than the pain. He had never been hit like this before. Even when he was small and had done something wrong, the punishment had usually only been a warning.
He had no idea what was going on, but Master had tied him up so tightly that not even a panther could have escaped. Master then led him to the back of the jeep as the two strangers instructed, and locked him in. Then he stumbled to the yurt, unwilling to look back at Kelsang, bumping into his wife in his rush to get inside. Kelsang heard a dull thud as he fell to the ground.
Kelsang lay in the trunk grumbling because of the heavy metal chains pressing into his ribs. He had never been tied up like this. In the past, Master had only tied him up when strangers came, and he always removed the chains as soon as they left. He had had so many new experiences today. It was all so different from the blue skies, pastures and sheep that he was used to.
Kelsang stood up and looked out the back of the jeep. Now that their summer camp had completely disappeared, panic swept across his fragile heart like a cloud’s shadow sweeping across the grasslands. He kept trying to tell himself that this was just one of Master’s jokes, but that couldn’t explain everything. He had never felt this frightened before.
The jeep spluttered up a gentle slope, and the meadows that gave Kelsang comfort were reduced to a stingy strip that bumped in and out of view from the window. The last thing that could console him had all but disappeared, and anger at being abandoned or kidnapped rose in his chest like a ball of fire. The jeep jolted over a small stone, and the tiny vibration set him off like a bomb.
The two men were shell-shocked by Kelsang’s outburst. The man driving lost control of the steering wheel, and the jeep veered into a pothole, lurching rapidly to one side. Loose bottles and cans rolled and clanked into each other, the din heightening Kelsang’s anxiety. Each bark was like a clap of thunder echoing in the jeep, and as he barked, Kelsang thrashed around hysterically, biting at whatever he could. In the open grasslands, his bark didn’t have the power to shake people’s souls, but in the confined space of the jeep, it was like setting off a fire-truck siren in a sealed room.
The jeep drove on for another thirty yards before coming to a stop. It was impossible to drive with a monster barking furiously in the back. Even with the utmost concentration, accidents were alarmingly
common on these roads. The two men got out of the car, the color drained from their faces, and peered at the howling dog through the back window.
The fur on the back of Kelsang’s neck was standing on end, and his eyes were burning. He looked like a lion whose food had been snatched away from him. He pounded blindly on the window like a well-oiled machine. Each strike sounded like the jeep’s wheels hitting rock. The two men stared at Kelsang’s infernal expression and his sharp white teeth magnified in the window. They didn’t know what to do.
Kelsang’s howling was no less chilling from outside the jeep. As soon as his perturbed whining found an outlet in the form of a half-open window, the sound gushed out like water breaking through a flood barrier. Every bark made the two men tremble as if ice water were being poured over their heads.
Kelsang crashed against the walls of his prison again and again, the confined space making him wild with fear. He was used to lying out in the open air or running wherever he pleased, even when winter temperatures on the plateau fell to minus forty degrees. But that life was a long way behind him now.
The jeep rocked back and forth with Kelsang’s stubborn mechanical pounding. If he hadn’t felt so helpless and been crashing all over the place rather than against one specific spot, the back door would have long since broken to pieces.
A smear of dark red appeared on the window where Kelsang had just hit his head, but the splashes of blood that followed didn’t slow him down. The jeep continued to rock violently from side to side. The two men still didn’t know what to do. The howling was starting to sear itself onto their brains. If they hadn’t been so scared of being ripped to shreds, they would have set the crazed dog free by now. If he really was a dog, that is.
“I’ll go mad if he keeps on.” The tall skinny man’s companion opened one of the jeep’s doors, grabbed hold of a wrench and approached the trunk as if about to open it.
Black Flame Page 3
