Although all four of his hunting dogs had died at the claws of a lynx, Wang Dalong didn't feel much grief.
Three of the four dogs he'd had for less than a month. The remaining one, the Qing Gou, had been with him for just about a year.
So Wang Dalong wasn't sad for the dogs, but it did sting a little. After all, he'd paid good money for them.
Beyond that, what filled Wang Dalong's heart was mostly greed.
A Lynx Fur!
He'd heard the price had gone up after the New Year. The shop up on the mountain was paying about one thousand five hundred yuan for a single one now.
So, Wang Dalong composed himself and called out to Wei Jin and Li Mingliang to head home.
This morning, he had gotten up even earlier than Zhao Jun and Li Baoyu, who were out checking their traps. He'd gone into the mountains alone with his gun, heading to the spot where he'd buried the dogs yesterday. From there, he followed the direction the lynx had gone, heading steadily uphill.
