When I was a child, my grandfather and I went hunting in the mountains and dug out a wolf den. There is no adult wolf to protect you. There was only one wolf cub alive, and its eyes were not open. Next to it, there were three dead cubs. There were bite marks on the neck and the blood had been sucked dry. Grandpa said, this wolf cub is so cruel! It survived by sucking the blood of its kind. I took it in and raised it, and named it Fire Cloud.
