From the night he left the Forty-Eight Divisions at the age of ten, Agalie never dreamed of the grassland again. The soft and boundless green of Wuerqin seems to still be in the eyes, the warm and sweet taste of fresh goat's milk seems to be still on the tip of the tongue, and the low and mellow voice of the wolf's head piano seems to be still in the ears.

Close your eyes and open them again. The fiercest warrior who smiled at her was her father and brother, with golden armor and red tassels, and the scabbard at his waist seemed to burn in the desert sun.

The woman in the king's tent, who was so delicate that she was almost suffocated, was her mother, and she looked at it as if even the driest and fierce wind in the northwest was about to be graceful.

Sula's brown curls were covered by the moonlight of the desert; The wrinkles on Helian's face seemed to hold several bowls of sand, and he was squeezing his eyes at her; Sul looked at her amid the commotion of the entire tribe, and the young man who could kill the wolf with his bare hands blushed.

Close your eyes and open them again. That's her. She rode a newly grown one

"Red clouds", beating horses galloping across the grassland, trampling fine velvet flowers under their feet, like the fine snow floating all year round on the top of the high mountain in the northwest legend.

The red cloud flew over the grass, flew over the stream, crossed the mountains and seas, and took its young and proud little master with it as if it were about to run to the edge of the sky in one breath, so that all the faint sounds behind it could no longer be heard.

Agareh! Agareh! The moon god is above, you slow down! Agareh! She turned around and smiled smugly, no one could catch up with her and Chiyun.

Chiyun ran tirelessly, until there was no way out, as if he had reached the end of the world. In the sunlight on the edge of the prairie, she closed her eyes.

I felt the gold crawling all over my face, my eyelids were hot, and the world seemed to turn red, like a spilled wine from a spilled cow and sheep on Naadam.

Beautiful but ominous. When she opened her eyes again, the fire had already burned to Chiyun's body. The king's tent with goat's milk, the meadow with velvet flowers, and the wolf's head violin next to the bonfire were all burned beyond recognition in the fire.

There was no moonlight or tears in Sura's gentle eyes, only two bloody holes, and she lay half-open on the scorched earth with her mouth half-open, her soft body naked and open, as if hugging heaven and earth, hugging, tearing, and bleeding dry.

The serpent-infused heavy horses crushed the bones, hands, feet, and skulls of the wolf warriors, leaving the young and alive rotting like lowly insects and ants in a scarlet mud - Sul will never blush again.

When she looked up, she saw her father's and brother's armor and long knives, which hung high above the king's tent, the armor was empty, and the helmet was still worn, but there was really only a head left.

Blood was dripping in her eyes, stinging to tears.

"My Agareh, my Agareh." She seemed to hear her mother's soft voice, an accent that was different from that of other women in Wuerqin, delicate and soft, like a flower raised in a southern hot spring.

She wiped her face with her sleeve, her pale lips kissed her eyes, she shoved a hard object into her palm, and finally stroked the tousled hair on the top of her head, pushing her up to the red clouds, and without looking back, she walked into the center of the storm of fire and blood.

"My little Agalie should only have the sky and the grassland in his eyes." The words of the woman singing in her ears seemed to have magical power, like the tide of the sea, drowning her sight and mind, and she rode her horse mechanically, screaming silently with her mouth open, tears with her eyes open and expressionless, her palms were staggered with the reins red, and blood oozed out, staining the golden wolf knife.

Get back. Chiyun went back. Get back! Where to go back? Where to go back... Red clouds... You... You run slowly.

Stop! No. Don't go. … Don't leave me alone... Am I still alive? Or is it dead?

I guess I'm dead. Or rather...... In fact, what is the difference between dead and alive? It didn't work. …… I...... Where are you going?

Everyone, everyone seems to be gone. A man and a horse run through the frosty grassland under the starry night, wading through the dark river of ice floe.

Not far away, the eagle chirped as if it was howling. Velvet splashes, this time full of red. The little wolf chasing the wind has lost her grassland forever.

How should a young man, who has never been well protected in the world, react after such an extreme tragedy?

Agalie didn't know about others, he only felt that he was riding on the red clouds, running and running, not daring to stop, and not daring to turn back.

It's like you're still in a dream. The heaviest and heaviest thing in my heart is the dazed loneliness that has not fallen, which has overwhelmed all fear, hatred, pain, and bereavement.

And then there was cold and hunger. Like the edge of a knife cutting into the skin, rubbing against her stomach and bones. She was too young, and her extremely thin life had not yet given her the ability to understand the causes and consequences of this night terror, nor had she yet given her the mind to figure out what one should do from now on.

Like a fledgling young bird, it has never known to flutter its wings carefree, and then one day it opens its eyes peacefully and finds that the nest has suddenly lit a fire.

Everything about it is in the fire. Run, run. Instinct allowed it to stumble away coldly, decisively, hastily, without looking back.

If God gave it a chance to live, gave it wings to fly, and gave it 10,000 lucks, would this young bird still fly back?

After that night, many days, or years, passed. Anyway, the things that followed, such as picking up water and sand, flowed over with a bang, and she was not impressed.

I don't care. By the time she really figured out what she had lost that day, she couldn't help herself and took another unpredictable path.

There is no end, and there is no stop. I don't know where I came from, and I won't look back. The red horse wept blood, and the golden knife shed tears.

But there was no blood or tears.