In this way we moved all summer up and down the mountain valleys of Borgasun and back and forth across the mountain passes. And when we crossed the five arms of our milky-white mother-river, Ak-Hem, under the autumn sun to move north again, my wound had formed a scar, and the dead skin looked like aspen bark as it began to detach from the new skin underneath. Initially, the new skin was bumpy and patchy, but with time it became smooth and strong. And as the cold weather approached, the fact that clothing arrived to cover my body meant once and for all that I was saved.

Grandma was happy in the last years of her life. We had each other, we were with each other, we lived for each other. We formed a small family within the larger one. All sorts of things happened in the large family, but in our small one, harmony reigned forever and the little sun of happiness kept shining. Grandma saw her late dreams fulfilled, lived inside some of them, and helped to shape their future course.

Grandma and I had our own space in the yurt. It was the right upper quarter. Grandmothers always seemed to live on the right side of a yurt; it was the same in other families. In other yurts, though, it was the lower quarter. And not every grandmother had a child of her own, let alone a flock she owned together with that child.

Oh yes, the flock! It was my pride and joy. All the sheep were Blackface and had stumpy ears. Of smaller build than our breeding stock, they also had a shorter fleece. Father said our own sheep belonged to a nobler breed than Grandma’s. But that was much later, and his remark stung me as if he had insulted Grandma herself.

Grandma said she had brought back just twenty-one animals as some had got away in Hööshek’s herd.

“What do you mean, Daaj? Got away?” Mother flared up. “Hööshek gave them away!” But Grandma stayed calm and explained: “Of course animals can get away. Mine drowned in the big herd and got away.” Mother wanted to give Grandma a piece of her mind, but Father stepped in ahead of her: “You didn’t stand next to Hööshek when she took the animals. Maybe they really did get away. You have to learn to master your mouth, woman! As the saying goes, people rarely meet with their death because of a horse but often because of a mouth.”

Mother was always ready for an argument, and she was no less equipped with sayings than Father. So she countered him with another saying: “Dogs hate to see you with a cane in your hand, and people hate to hear you with the truth in your mouth!” Grandma cleared her throat, which was a sign that she too wanted to say something. So everybody waited, and the argument that had just got going came to a halt. Grandma took her time, and what she eventually said was this: “Silk is precious; wear it if you can afford it. But what if you needed a particularly useful cleaning rag and took silk instead?”