7/13/2026, 12:03 PM
Surmounting joy, so rarely ever held, fills him but for the moment when Ochir’s face turns. Batu is oddly removed from himself, yet at a finite peace.
“Cousin!” His own stop is a hard break which upends dust and seed heads. Khaan circles the roan, brushing flank to flank; the gesture verboten when ranks had superseded. It is when his gaze looks deeper on Ochir that he slows to still his stride, head shaking over and back.
“It is gone, Ochir.” Everything. “But some of us have recovered. We are rebuilding here, as a single band. Oyun— she is alive.” But not Subutai. Not Chagatai. Not Jochi.
“Cousin!” His own stop is a hard break which upends dust and seed heads. Khaan circles the roan, brushing flank to flank; the gesture verboten when ranks had superseded. It is when his gaze looks deeper on Ochir that he slows to still his stride, head shaking over and back.
“It is gone, Ochir.” Everything. “But some of us have recovered. We are rebuilding here, as a single band. Oyun— she is alive.” But not Subutai. Not Chagatai. Not Jochi.
mongolian | mandarin
