The winter in Xilin Gol always gives Erman a feeling of death.
As soon as the tent of the yurt was closed tightly, the dim kerosene light disappeared. Only the eyes of the wolves were bright in the entire grassland. The brightness was said to be the reflection of the snow. Erman quietly pushed the tent open a crack. In the past ten days, he was the only one guarding the herd. The horses had rested. He was so awake that he broke into a nervous cold sweat.
He doubted that the two wolves would come again tonight.
