The next morning Grandma’s gray mare was saddled early, but she could not leave until around noon since I refused to get off er lap and started to scream each time people tried to pull me off her. She had to wait until I fell asleep again. Cousin Molum took her home, because of the dogs and also because of her sister. He carried with him a few words from Father and Mother. Once they arrived at Hööshek’s yurt, he was to speak on behalf of Grandma.

Grandma returned in the spring. But before spring there was winter, and in those days people heard very little of each other during that long time. Often they heard nothing at all. That year my parents could not find out until spring whether the Höösheks in Baschgy Dag had had a winter with only a few losses, and whether Grandma had got through the winter.

Then she came! It was still in the lean time between the storms and the move, and our yurt had only just arrived at Hara Hoowu. The Höösheks were stopping over at Saryg Höl on their way down from the mountains into the steppe. Grandma praised Sedip, the Hööshek son and her nephew, for his sharp young eyes and his binoculars and asked him to keep an eye on Hara Dag, across the Ak-Hem. One morning Sedip announced that the ail was leaving. And then he followed the movements of the flock of sheep and herd of yaks with the loaded oxen, reporting to Grandma in short intervals: “Passing the Heritsche above Doora Hara. At Üd Ödek. In Gysyl Schat. Along the Ak-Hem.”

“Keep watching, my dear,” Grandma said, “we’ll soon know where people are heading.” Shortly afterward she learned that the herds were crossing the Ak-Hem toward the area above Gysyl Ushuk. And so Grandma knew where our yurt could soon be found.