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Hot golden prairie lay silent and pristine beneath an
endlessly blue sky. The air was still and I could see forever. I had
been alone inside the landscape for hours, but now there was a horse
rising into the periphery of the vast nothingness. Soon it was beside
me, the rhythmic thud of its hooves slowing to match the pace of |
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| Greene's wheels. The teenager sat
high on his horse's withers, as Mongolians have ridden across the
centuries, across half the world once. He was beautiful, this boy who
was almost a man. He rode like a prince. "Tsai uu?" he asked ("Tea?"),
pointing to a lone house at the foot of the hills. I nodded, and we
moved on together, out across the prairie. |
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