ten
The sun has reached its highest point as we descend to the lower valley where farmed land replaces the wide-open fields of grass. Small dwellings dot the stretches of burgeoning crop. The barley seed sown not long ago weaves in an amber glow over the fields. Women load their baskets with the first fresh cabbages—the early crop, tender green.
Sangmo’s stallion boots up the hill in front of us. It sure shows no lust for rest. Straining to recognize the surroundings, I slow my mare at every home we pass. Alas, my eyes spot nothing familiar. My temples throb—the heat is getting to me. I focus on the road ahead. How the valley has changed. Or is it me not remembering? After all, it has been so long.
We follow in Sangmo’s trail. My stomach tightens. This hill. Could it be? I look up as Sa
