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ion to the wheel ruts； not even the powdery snow had been blown away。 The old man lay there looking peaceful and innocent； supine； his body blanketed by a thin layer of powder； a look of devotion on his smooth； seemingly veiled face。
The anxiety and the dread Chen had experienced on the way over were gradually supplanted by a sense of the sacred。 The dead man exhibited no sign of someone meeting death； but of someone attending a feast in Tengger； a second baptism； a rebirth。 At that moment； Chen shared the reverence in which the grassland Mongol people held the wolf totem。 At the end of a life； the body was served up as an unadorned sacrificial offering； providing a clean and absolute liberation； now Chen understood the deep reverence of the Mongols for Tengger； the wolves； and the souls they entrusted to them。 He had no heart to loiter at that sacred place； fearful of agitating the soul of the deceased and of des—ecrating the sacred beliefs of the grassland people； so； with a respectful bow to the old man； he led his horse away from the burial site。
Three days later； the family of the deceased had nothing to worry about； which greatly relieved Chen Zhen。 The family； following local custom； had gone to verify the burial and must have seen the traces of an outsider among the tracks of men and horses； but none came to Chen Zhen with accusations。 That would not have been so had the soul not gone up to Tengger。 Chen； realizing that his curiosity and inter—ests had begun to clash with his hosts’ totems and taboos； took care to concentrate on tending his sheep and working hard； even as he sought to move closer to the mysterious people about whom he was so curious and whom he so deeply respected。
Spring came strangely early that year； more than a month ear
