一个凄凉的冬夜,寒星闪闪地望着大地,一群猎人骑着马,手拿着长枪,疯狂地围剿着一群狼,“砰砰”,一声接一声沉闷的枪声划破夜空,一匹又一匹狼踉跄地倒下了,尸横遍野——这时的小狼,并不知道这一切意味着什么,刚刚降临人世七天,每天半梦半醒地吃吃睡睡,刚才还缠在母亲的怀里吮着乳香,似乎母亲匆匆忙忙地将他叼到一丛干燥的深草丛里,然后他就甜甜地闭上眼睛睡着了。 On a bleak winter night, Hanxing stared at the earth. A group of hunters rode their horses and held rifles in their hands. They frantically surrounded a herd of wolves, and they slammed into the night sky with a dull gunfire. A wolf fell down, and the corpse fell. The little wolf at this time did not know what it meant. He had just died for seven days. He ate and slept all day and night, and he wraps around in his mother’s arms. Frankincense, it seemed as if the mother had hurriedly picked him up into a thick, dry bush, and he would sweetly close his eyes and fall asleep.