by Holly Webb
“Lean forward more. And use your hands. We’re not far now, don’t worry. And look, we’ll stop here for a moment.”
They seemed to be on a flatter path now, and Isabelle felt the girl clutch her hand tightly. Then she bowed her head a little towards a tapering pile of rocks, taller than they were, which stood at the side of the faintly worn path. At first Isabelle had thought that it was just a heap of boulders that had fallen down, but now she had caught her breath and could look at it properly, she saw that it had been built.
“Oh, a cairn,” she said, smiling as she recognized what it was. Gran and Grandad had taken them on a walk in the hills back in the summer – not nearly as hard a walk as this one. There had been a very nice teashop at the end of it, which Isabelle suspected there wouldn’t be here – and there had been a cairn. Grandad had told them that when people walked past they would add a stone to the pile, so it grew bigger every year.
“It’s an obo,” the girl corrected her. “To honour the mountain.”
“But you add a rock to it, when you go past?”
“Yes. Or another offering. Bottles, look, and streamers.”
The streamers were made out of strips of plastic, and they fluttered in the gusty wind. “It’s pretty.” Isabelle smiled. “Can we put stones on it?”
“Of course. And perhaps the spirits will help us find what we’re looking for.” The girl nodded thoughtfully and picked up a stone.
Isabelle chose a greyish piece of rock, patterned with stripes, that happened to be close to her foot – perhaps a really pretty rock made a better offering?
“We walk round it, three times,” the girl said, leading her around the obo. “And now we put our stones on.”
Isabelle placed her striped stone gently on the side of the tall pile and held her breath for a second, hoping that it wouldn’t all fall down.
“Who is it for?” she asked quietly, and then wished she hadn’t when the girl gave her a strange, doubting look.
“I thought you’d know about that kind of thing,” she murmured. “Although I suppose you’re not really a spirit, because I made you up… I don’t know what you are.”
Nor do I, Isabelle thought worriedly.
How could she be dreaming all these things if she didn’t know about them when she was awake? It had seemed quite reasonable before, but she most certainly hadn’t read about obos when she was looking up snow leopards. But it can’t be anything else than a dream, she told herself firmly. It’s just a strange one, that’s all.
The girl looked around uncertainly, as though she wasn’t sure how to explain. “The obo… It’s for the mountain. And the sky. Everything – it’s all important.”
She frowned, obviously trying to work out how to explain. “It’s like the flag,” she added suddenly. “Mongolia’s flag has all colours to mean different things. Blue is the sky, of course, and yellow is the sun. Green is the grass that feeds our animals and red is fire. White is the sacred colour, the colour of the spirits. That’s why white is the most special colour for foods, like milk. I’ll give you milk and curds when we get back. That’s what we always give to guests.”
Isabelle nodded. It did make sense. Her mum kept saying since they’d moved how lovely it was to see the sky and the grass on the hills. She said it made her feel like she could breathe. Dad always rolled his eyes and said he was a city boy, but Isabelle knew he liked it, too.
Isabelle patted her rock gently. She felt at home here, just a little, now that she’d seen the obo. It was something that felt familiar. The ger was so strange, even if it was warm and cosy like her own house, and it did have a fridge and a TV. Isabelle was sure she had seen a motorbike, too, parked under a little shelter with a plastic roof. It was the odd way that all these familiar things were put together that made them seem frighteningly different.
“There’s one last climb,” the girl explained, leading Isabelle along the rocky path.
Isabelle tried not to sigh. Her legs ached already.
“It’s worth it, I promise. You’ll see why it’s so important.” The girl gave a little gulp, and Isabelle saw that her eyes had filled with tears again. The fun of the climb together had cheered her up, Isabelle realized. But now the girl had remembered what it was that had made her lie there crying in the dark.
Isabelle did her best to climb after the girl, refusing to let herself complain or show that she was tired, even though her hands hurt from trying to grab at the frozen rocks. There was more snow here as they climbed around the side of the mountain, out of its shelter.
“Wait,” the girl said at last. “We can’t get too close. Here is good. Look, just sit and watch. Up there.” She glanced worriedly at Isabelle’s pinched face and wrapped an arm round her, snuggling her close to warm her up. “Just watch. It’s not long after dawn, and they often come then. Dawn and dusk are the best times.”
Who does? Isabelle wondered, leaning against the girl’s shoulder. The cold was making her feel dazed and dreamy. “Who comes?” she whispered.
“Wait and see. Soon…”
Isabelle yawned and felt her eyes closing. Perhaps when she woke up, she would be in her own bed again? But then the girl shook her gently. “Sarangerel, look. Up above us.”
Isabelle straightened up and tried to look where the girl was pointing, at a rocky crag above the thin little patch of path they sat on. It seemed like any other ledge – she couldn’t see what was so special about it. Although that spot of darkness at the end of the ledge could be a cave, perhaps.
And then out of the cave, slowly, cautiously, padded a ghost-like creature, her thick tail swinging gracefully behind her.
“A snow leopard!” Isabelle breathed, suddenly awake. She was actually seeing one, in the wild! The beautiful cat was only metres away.
“Watch!” The girl nudged her excitedly, and Isabelle could hear in her voice that she was smiling.
After the great grey cat tumbled two smaller cubs, yellowish-grey and spotted like their mother. They didn’t seem to be as cautious as she was, and they bounced happily along the ledge, nipping and scuffling, until she turned back to glare at them and cuff the larger cub with one huge paw. It hissed a little, and then dived underneath its mother to jump in front of the smaller cub.
“They’re so beautiful,” Isabelle murmured. “The littlest cub has blue eyes, look!”
The girl nodded. “I named her Sky – her eyes are just that deep summer blue.”
“What about the others?” Isabelle asked, holding back a laugh as Sky squared up to the larger cub with a gruff growl. The deep noise sounded strange coming from something so small. Sky was perhaps the size of a little dog, Isabelle thought, trying to measure in her head. Spaniel-sized. And the other cub was a bit bigger.
“Her brother – I think he’s her brother, anyway – he’s called Shadow. And the mother is Grace, because of the way she moves. I’ve been coming here to see them for months. Since the cubs were tiny.”
“I never thought they’d be so close to your home,” Isabelle said, watching the mother snow leopard sink down on the rocky ledge, while the cubs clambered around and over her, jumping and wrestling. The smaller cub peered over the ridge at the girls, and Isabelle saw her blue eyes shining. Could she see them looking at her?
“They’re well hidden, though,” the girl said. “I think they probably know we’re here – they must be able to smell us – but they’re used to seeing me now.”
“How did you find them? Or does everyone know where they are?”
“Oh no.” The girl looked shocked. “And you mustn’t tell.” Then she let out a breath of a laugh. “Of course, I forgot. No one can hear you except for me. At least, no one ever could before.”
Isabelle nodded. “They’re your secret?”
“Mmm-hmm. I found them back in the summer. I was looking for one of our goats that had strayed. We were camped a lot further down the mountain then, and it was a long way up here. It was fun being out on my own. I love our ger, but there’s so many
people around, and my brothers are always telling me what to do because they’re bigger than I am.”
Isabelle’s eyes widened. Two big brothers – just like the picture on her snow leopard’s label. Could this be the same girl? Isabelle tried to remember the tiny photo she’d seen. She thought it was… And Isabelle could understand that she’d want some time on her own. A little sister was bossy enough – she couldn’t imagine two big brothers telling her what to do all the time.
“I was having an adventure by myself. So, well, when I couldn’t find the goat I didn’t go straight home, I went on exploring. I got tired and I sat down to rest for a bit – I almost fell asleep, and then I heard a scraping noise and pebbles bouncing. When I looked up, I saw the snow leopard going into her den! I stayed and watched her – I’d never seen a snow leopard before, and she was so beautiful, so clever, the way she leaped up the rocks. And then I saw her cubs! They were tiny then, little fluffy things. After that I came to watch them whenever I could. I was lucky it wasn’t too far from any of our pastures, even when we moved.” She sighed. “I love them – can you tell? But my family calls them the ghosts of the mountain. Beautiful and deadly. They say that the mother killed the goats.”
“Do you think she did?”
The girl sighed. “Maybe. She’s got two cubs to feed, so she can’t go as far as she would on her own looking for food. I’ve seen her leave them and go off to hunt, and she brought back a wild sheep, an argali. They aren’t so very different from our sheep and goats – it’s just that they’ve got curly horns. How should she know the difference?” She swallowed miserably. “Some of the men in our camp want to kill her before she does it again.” The girl put her hands over her face, and Isabelle had to lean close to hear her. “They’ll kill Grace, and leave her cubs to die.”
“We should go back,” the girl whispered at last. She was leaning against Isabelle’s shoulder. Even though Isabelle hardly knew her, she’d put her arms round the girl, trying to make her feel better. “Everyone else will be up, now that it’s properly light.”
Isabelle nodded reluctantly. She didn’t want to stop watching the snow leopards playing on the ridge above them. But she could tell that sitting still for any longer wouldn’t be a good idea. As it was she could hardly feel her feet, even in the thick leather boots. She grimaced to herself, wondering whether it would be harder to go down the mountain than up. She got to her feet, stiff with cold, and followed the girl as she began to climb carefully down the rocky hillside. The snow leopards caught the sound of their movement at once, and as the girls peered up at the ridge, they saw the mother herding her cubs quickly back to the entrance of the cave.
They picked their way back down, skidding and sliding in places, to the scree slope where the girl had dragged Isabelle on their way up. Isabelle peered down it worriedly and the girl smiled at her. “I’ll steady you. We won’t fall, I promise.”
It’s a dream, Isabelle told herself, nodding. I can’t fall off a mountain in a dream. Or if I do, it’ll just mean I wake up. But it didn’t make her feel much better. The slope was so steep.
She followed the girl gingerly down the slope, hating the feel of the stones shaking under her feet, bouncing away in great frightening leaps. But finally they came to the path, and stood leaning on each other, laughing a little.
Then the girl squinted up at the sky anxiously. The sun was well up now. “We need to hurry and get home. Come on.”
They ran along the flat part of the path, and the girl hauled Isabelle down the scrambling climb and across the rockstrewn terrace to the white gers, and the pens and stone-built shelters behind them.
“What are those for?” Isabelle asked, looking at the shelters curiously. It seemed odd to live in tents, but have little stone houses behind.
“They’re stalls for the horses and the camels,” the girl explained.
Isabelle tried not to gape at her. Camels – really?
“Don’t they get cold?” Isabelle asked her. “The camels? Aren’t they used to it being really hot and sunny?” She thought of camels as desert creatures – but then she remembered the map at the zoo. The mountains weren’t that far from the Gobi Desert. She followed the girl round to the front of the stone pens, carefully built away from the wind. A long face stared down at them, fluffy and almost like a teddy bear. The camel had a soft muzzle and big nostrils like a horse, and dark, sly-looking eyes.
“See how much winter wool he has,” the girl explained, stroking the camel’s nose, while he eyed Isabelle suspiciously. “That keeps him warm, and then he sheds it in the summer when it’s really hot. So hot! That’s when we grow barley, and vegetables and things. Just a little, in the fields down the mountain, close to the river. It’s only for a couple of months, though, so we have to make the best of it. And we use the camels then, for bringing down the summer grass.” She giggled. “They look so funny – they carry the grass on their backs in great piles, so they’re like big green fuzzy things with legs. Then we dry the grass for the winter, for when we can’t take the herd out to graze, you see. They carry the ger, too, when we move. Some families have a truck, but my pa thinks it’s too expensive, with the petrol as well.”
“How can they carry the ger?” Isabelle looked doubtfully from the girl to the camel, and the camel stared back at her down his nose, as though he didn’t like her much.
“Not the way it is now! It all comes to pieces.” The girl snorted with laughter, and Isabelle gave a little sigh. It was all very well to try not to ask questions, but she couldn’t help it. The girl must be wondering why she kept asking about everything. Wouldn’t an imaginary friend know all these things? Isabelle frowned to herself. Maybe not. Tilly was always explaining stuff to Herbie and bossing him around. She liked being cleverer than he was. Isabelle had a feeling that the girl was just desperate for someone to talk to.
“The horses are here,” the girl explained, pulling Isabelle along to the other end of the shelter. There was an eager whinnying sound from inside, and three beautiful horses looked out at them – a dark iron-grey, a chestnut with a white blaze down his nose, and a bay with a shaggy black mane.
“Oh, they’re gorgeous,” Isabelle whispered, holding out her hand to the dark grey. He sniffed at her fingers and eyed her sideways, clearly not quite sure about her. But then he ducked his head down and let her pet his nose, and he seemed to enjoy the attention.
“You’re so lucky,” Isabelle said, and the girl smiled at her, but rather sadly.
“Odval! There you are!” A woman about the same age as Isabelle’s mum came out of the ger, dressed in a dark red deel. “Where were you? I was worried!”
Odval! So that was what the girl was called. Then Isabelle gave a little gasp. She looked anxiously at Odval’s mother, waiting for her to ask who she was, and how she’d suddenly appeared from nowhere. And why Isabelle was wearing her daughter’s old clothes. But Odval’s mother didn’t even notice her. She just patted Odval’s shoulders, looking at her as though she was checking her daughter was all in one piece.
“I only went to the outhouse,” the girl – Odval – said innocently, pointing across the terrace to a little white tent. “And then I was just checking if the horses and camels were all right.” Isabelle tried not to giggle. Odval was making such a good little girl face. “Shall I turn them out?”
Her mother looked as though she wasn’t quite sure whether to believe her, but she shook her head. “No. You’d better hurry inside to help me. Everyone will be here in a minute – they’re coming to decide what to do about the snow leopard.”
Odval glanced worriedly at Isabelle, and her mother followed her eyes, obviously not sure what she was looking at.
“She can’t see me,” Isabelle whispered, as Odval’s mother turned to go back into the ger.
Odval shook her head. “No. It’s all right. Only I can.”
“The camels and the horses could, too.”
Odval frowned. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Maybe animals
can see spirits, and people can’t? Unless the spirits want them to?”
Isabelle shivered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be called a spirit. “Who’s coming to the ger now?”
“Everyone, I think. All the men who’d go hunting the snow leopard, anyway.”
“The women don’t want to hunt her?” Isabelle asked thoughtfully.
Odval shook her head, and Isabelle could see that she was clenching her fists inside her long sleeves. “No, I’m sure they won’t. My ma will be there, and she won’t let them kill Grace. If we go hunting, it breaks our contract with the charity, you see.”
Isabelle nodded. The website had explained that. The families had to agree not to hunt the snow leopards, or the argali, the wild sheep that the snow leopards lived on.
“We’ll lose a lot of money if we break the contract, and they won’t buy our crafts any more.” Odval looked up anxiously at Isabelle. “But everyone’s so angry about the goats. I don’t know whether they’ll just decide to do it anyway. I don’t know how to stop them,” she added with a gulp.
She led Isabelle inside and back over to the painted wooden bed they’d slept in. Then she hurried to help her mother, heating a great pan of what Isabelle thought was tea, although it didn’t smell quite like the tea at home. The stove in the middle of the room was for cooking on, she thought, not just for warmth.
Isabelle shrank back into the corner of the bed as several men and women came into the ger. She knew only Odval could see her, but when the two women sat down on the bed, she wondered if they would notice there was a girl curled up behind them. But they were fussing over the baby that one of them was carrying, wrapped up tightly in a furry hat and blankets.
The beds were like sofas in the daytime, Isabelle realized, the covers pulled tight, and cushions laid against the tall painted side of the bed. The men sat over on the other side of the ger, and Odval and her mother went round handing out cups of tea, pieces of white cheese and little dumplings.
