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1早晨起来从窗户望出去,北面的山就被浓郁的大雾埋住了,只能看到山顶。天空像灰色的鹿皮,闷闷地透不出多少亮。猎狗沃里克叫个不停,我不会听错它的声音。它已经老了,浑身疤痕,主人克里不再让它待在猎营地,把它送回山下颐养天年。它是功臣,关于它的勇敢和忠诚,关于它和狼群搏斗,救下驯鹿的故事,这里每个人都会给你讲上三天三夜。每逢下雨前,隐隐作痛的旧伤使沃里克烦躁不安,它的叫声像天气预报似的准确。吃早饭时,索利雅老太太歪着脑袋听一会,然后对我说:瞧,
1 In the morning, looking out of the window, the north mountain was buried in a thick fog, and the mountaintop was visible. Sky like gray deerskin, muffled to reveal how much light. Warwick called the hound, I will not hear it wrong. It is old, scars, owner Kerry no longer let it stay in hunting camps, sent it back to the mountains to maintain their years. It’s a hero, a story about bravery and loyalty about it fighting wolves and saving reindeer, where everyone is going to talk to you for three days and three nights. Before the rain, the old pain of aching and painful irritation to Warrick, it sounds like the weather seems to be accurate. When eating breakfast, Suolianya old lady tilted his head to listen for a while, then said to me: Look,