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The Threshold of the Steppe
Bataar tightened his heavy sheepskin sash against the biting dawn wind, resting his gloved hand on the timber latch of the release gate as white frost coated the rolling foothills of Hustai. Within the fenced twenty-hectare acclimation paddock, a family band of eight takhi huddled together, their dun-colored coats glowing pale gold against the withered steppe grass. If the lead stallion refused to guide his band beyond the perimeter before the first severe autumn blizzard struck the valley, the veterinary team would have to keep the animals on supplementary grain for another year, delaying a decade of delicate diplomatic and ecological preparation.
What Bataar sought in the stallion's posture was not mere curiosity, but an awakening of ancient memory. For nearly forty years, the Przewalski's horse had been considered completely extinct in its