Prologue

Before seeing the pale smoke, the old man was sitting in front of the house wiping the barrel of his hunting rifle. In the past five days, he hadn't hit a single hare, but the old man felt that Heaven didn't bless him. There was nothing wrong with him or his gun.

Last night he shot a human by mistake. It wasn't his fault or the gun's fault. Heaven was to blame. He had to wipe off the bad luck left on the gun barrel after accidentally shooting a human. Although he felt that he might have shot a young wolf, to be safe, he still had to do so.

When he lifted the barrel to inspect his work, he saw the smoke rising in the gully not far away. The old man thought it must be a campfire.

He picked up his gun without hesitation and walked towards the direction of the smoke. The pale veins on the wrinkled skin of his backhand bulged. He didn't like people having picnics in his hunting range. He would drive away these ignorant people.

It took him half an hour to walk into the gully. On the left side of the gully was a dizzying cliff. Many years ago, his wife fell from there, and the old man did not go to look for the remains. He felt that even if he went, he would not find them. Later he had several nightmares, dreaming that a pack of wild wolves tore his wife apart. And she was still breathing, looking at him. This dream did not bother him for a long time.

He walked all the way to where the smoke disappeared. The weeds in front of him had been burned, with the roots reduced to ashes. Obviously, no one would have a picnic here. The old man pushed aside the weeds and saw the deep hole about four meters in diameter ahead. He bent down and looked inside, frowning slightly, and then returned to normal.

Curled up in the hole was a bloody child. The old man thought he saw a young wolf trapped in a foothold trap. Many years later, the old man would regret finding him.