Articles Available Online

The Chief   The sound of the bell for the closing of the temple gate reaches my ears I am on my way to bring in the horses, as I can’t leave them outside to sleep during the old moon The sky is cloudy and dark, and the wind blows harder the further uphill I go The last rays of the setting sun still cling to the western ridge I don’t know if it’s the weather or the events of the day, but I can’t shake a sense of foreboding I get off my horse at the top of the hill No matter how much of a hurry I am in, I can’t ride past the ovoo without stopping I’m bent over, plucking a stone from the grass, when my daughter comes riding up on horseback A cold breeze blows across her forehead as she tells me the hunters have arrived Sure enough, there is a jeep parked in front of the ger camp below   I let go of the reins, add the stone to the top of the ovoo, and walk slowly around it in prayer The hunters are early I thought they would wait until after the old moon had passed But outsiders have no respect for our customs and laugh at such things as heavenly omens   My daughter sits slumped in the saddle Her eyes are blank, like her mind is somewhere else She’s been quiet lately and spends most of her time lying around I’ve caught her talking in her sleep a few times and had to slap her awake Now that it’s winter and there’s less work to do, she’ll get lazier and lazier Or maybe she’s just at that age She’s sixteen now, and I can tell from the way she turns clumsy and stupid whenever we have young guests staying at the camp that she’s started noticing boys I feel excluded as a father, or like I don’t exist to her anymore A long time ago, I had a mare that followed a wild horse into the steppes and disappeared That mare meant a lot to