We rose at dawn and didn’t get to bed until the dark of night. Often Father had to get up a few times to check on the flocks. Since the beginning of time, a shepherd who spends his day outside with his sheep has never eaten more than twice a day—early in the morning and late at night. We had always followed this custom, but we always had good meals and enjoyed the companionship that came with them. Now there was no longer time for that. Hardly back on our feet, we would rush out to help the trembling animals that had been lashed by the night’s cold. Eating became less important. It was good that we had dried curd cheese: In the morning each of us put a handful of pieces into a breast pocket, and most of the time we kept a piece in our mouth and sucked it. Curd cheese helped stave off hunger as well as thirst. Sometimes at night, when I took off my clothes and untied my belt, a forgotten piece fell out of my coat folds. The cheese always felt warm, soft, and oily to the touch.

With each passing day, the animals grew thinner and thinner, and the flock smaller and smaller. The cold and the storm continued. Then the birthing began. Each morning we checked the flock. Animals whose bellies had dropped and looked sunken were separated out and left in the hürde. Sometimes we had to finger their udders. Full, warm udders and reddish teats were a sure sign the ewe would lamb soon. In spite of our checks, Father came home most evenings with his felt bag full and heavy with new-born lambs.

Because she had to look after the lambing ewes and their new-borns, Mother was no longer able to watch the second flock with me. I wanted to continue taking the basket, but Father and Mother would not let me since they were afraid I might stumble in the storm and get choked by the basket sling. So I gathered düüleesh and horse droppings into piles instead, and now and then Mother came to pick them up.

Almost every day I had to skin dead animals. It was very hard with the fully grown sheep. They were emaciated, and their skin clung tight. One day in desperate straits I invented an easier process for myself: while pulling and tightening the skin with my left hand, I pounded it with the glow stone in my right hand. Normally, we skinned only large animals that way. Soon I refined the process: I told Arsylang to bite into the skin and pull it tight, which he quickly understood and carried out with great dedication. Now I was able to pound the tightened skin with the stone and then, when my arm got tired, stomp on it with my foot, which was, however, not quite as effective.