Taras barked again and shot an accusing sort of glance at Temüjin. It had been easy enough for the wild horse to avoid the dog’s eye in the darkness, but now, in dawn’s cold and unforgiving light, this was more difficult. The stallion knew exactly what the dog was thinking, and there was no getting away from what was obviously the right thing to do.
Temüjin walked ahead of Börte, herded the mare to a halt and then gave Taras a sideways look. He glanced back at the trail for a moment and then snorted at the girl, which sounded awfully like a sigh. Kalinka was strong but slow—that could hardly be denied—and the solution was obvious. The dog was right about that. Their survival was going to require compromises from them—perhaps Temüjin most of all.
Now, some of the buttons on the girl’s Astrakhan coat were missing, and wound twice around her narrow waist was a long black leather belt that Max had tied there to help keep the coat closed against the cold wind; after a moment or two’s further consideration of the matter at hand, the stallion stepped forward and nibbled at Kalinka’s buckle.
“Hey, stop it,” she said. “This is no time to play, Temüjin. Taras is right. We have to get going again. If they catch us out here in the middle of the steppe, we’re all sitting ducks. And you know what happens to sitting ducks when there are men with guns around.”
Temüjin swung his head and then stamped the ground impatiently; then he nibbled the buckle again.
“You want this belt?” she asked. “Why?” But she took it off anyway and let the stallion take it in his mouth. “All right. Have it. But I don’t understand. You can’t eat it. Or maybe you can; I really don’t know what a wild horse can eat.” She shrugged. “I saw a goat eat a shoe once. And that was made of leather. I guess if a goat can eat something that’s made of leather, then maybe a wild horse can, too. Maybe you’re just hungrier than I think you are.”
Temüjin took the belt and laid his head across Börte; when he moved away again, the belt remained lying on Börte’s neck.
By now it was clear to Kalinka that Temüjin wasn’t going to eat the belt, but the cold had numbed the space between her ears and it was several seconds before she understood what was being suggested.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You want me to buckle this around Börte’s neck?”
Taras barked and wagged his long, curved tail; he understood, even if the girl was being a bit slow about this.
“Temüjin? Are you suggesting I should ride Börte?”
Temüjin nodded and then nudged Kalinka toward the mare.
“I’m sorry, Temüjin. If I sound surprised, that’s only because I am. I thought you Przewalski’s were the only true horses never to have been domesticated. At least that’s what Max told me. But hold on a second—what does Börte have to say about it? Shouldn’t we ask her permission or something? I mean, it seems a bit rude just to climb on her back without so much as a by-your-leave.”
The mare reached around, took Kalinka’s coat in her mouth and pulled the girl gently toward her.
“All right, all right. I understand. You’re okay with this.” She buckled the belt around Börte’s neck and then prepared to mount. “I’ll give it a try. After all, they say that even a bear can be taught to dance, so maybe this will work. I don’t mind admitting to you that my feet are beginning to ache; they’re also very wet and very cold. But if this is some kind of Przewalski’s joke, then I’m not going to be at all amused. There’s a time and a place for a joke, and take my word for it, this just isn’t it. Believe me, I left all of my sense of humor back in Dnepropetrovsk. After what happened there, I may never laugh again.”
Kalinka took hold of her makeshift bridle and then leapt up onto the mare’s broad back; a little to her surprise, the wild horse did not try to throw her off.
“Well, I never,” she said. “I guess you’re only really wild when you want to be, huh?” She nodded as Börte began to walk steadily, as if the horse was quite used to having a rider on her back. “Well, this is better. I like it up here. And I can also see farther in all directions. Not that there’s anything very much to see. But you get the idea. That might come in useful.”
“Oh, I wish I had a camera so that I could send Max a picture. He would never believe this. I can hardly believe it myself. I’m really riding a wild horse. But look, I promise never to let any other wild horses know that this happened. All right? I can see how that might be a little embarrassing for horses like you.”