Read Online Black Flame by Gerelchimeg Blackcrane - Free Book Online Page B

dark. He would walk out of the courtyard door — the old man never closed the door — into the silent streets of Lhasa spread out beneath his feet.
    Ever since he lost his job tending the sheep on the grasslands, Kelsang took to running aimlessly through the streets with an almost mad passion, trying to expend the energy he stored up during the day. His running began to take on a particular pattern, following a series of circles emanating from the painter’s courtyard. After finishing one circuit, Kelsang would go back to the courtyard and look up at the silhouette of the painter in the second-floor window, where he often stood painting through the night, just to check that all was well before starting on a new circuit.
    In the years that followed, Kelsang became a legend among the pilgrims of Lhasa, who honed their descriptions of the dark shadow they encountered and spread their stories far and wide. A pair of eyes watched them as they spun their prayer wheels and prostrated themselves on the cold paving stones around Jokhang Temple, but they weren’t sure what it was, and it was gone by the time they looked up.
    Kelsang would gaze with affection at the herdsmen draped in thick fur-lined robes who traveled here from the distant grasslands. But he always did so from deep in dark corners, and as soon as the men sensed he was there, he ran away.
    He encountered many small dogs on his explorations of the city, but since none was a match for him, he almost never slowed down, preferring instead to breeze by. He once bit two dogs who tried to pick fights with him, and after that, the other dogs fled as soon as they saw him coming. But this was Lhasa, a place where anything could happen. No one could guarantee that there wasn’t an even more exceptional mastiff in another courtyard somewhere. Kelsang was not invincible.
    One coal-black night, Kelsang came across his first real opponent since leaving the grasslands. He left the courtyard, as usual, and started to trot around the city. As his body began to warm up, he spotted a silvery gray wolfhound flickering in the evening light up ahead. He slowed down. Was it a German shepherd, a mastiff or a St. Bernard?
    The wolfhound had no intention of running away and stared as Kelsang approached, its eyes fluorescent with purpose, like a wolf stalking a sheep. This dog was different from the yappy ones Kelsang had encountered recently. Growling softly, the wolfhound raised its head and started to walk forward in a determined fashion, its tail as erect as a tree trunk. Its lips were pulled back to reveal a set of sharp white teeth, its wolverine ears were pressed close to its head, and its red eyes were fixed fearlessly on Kelsang. It looked even bigger than the mastiff.
    Having fought with more than one wolf on the grasslands, and with other dogs since, Kelsang was not inclined to think well of the wolfhound. And yet he had no desire to start a fight. He turned slightly and slipped past, growling a warning to the other dog not to get too close. His muscles were tight and ready to spring into action.
    But before the wolfhound had time to react, a reflex made Kelsang twist right around and sink his teeth into its neck. They clashed in midair, their teeth grinding, their paws grabbing at each other’s torsos. As soon as he landed back on the ground, Kelsang pulled away. This was the first time he had encountered such a worthy opponent since arriving in the city — he had nearly been knocked to the ground. After a brief pause, they clashed again. Since they were roughly the same build, Kelsang decided not to make a tactical withdrawal, but instead charged forward with all his might. The other dog was of the same mind and met Kelsang like a lump of rock.
    They crashed into each other again and again, biting and scratching. Kelsang was about to bite into the wolfhound’s right leg, but his opponent was quick and was already poised to bite his shoulder. Instead it