promise to Nyra!”
Then she pictured the scene that night: her bossy sister Sarangerel demanding to see the
crystal at once; her mother spellbound, seeing such a precious jewel; her father surprised,
wrinkling his forehead, frowning in concentration, inspecting the crystal and then declaring it a
good way to earn extra money. But Narantuyaa was determined not to have the crystal sold – she
didn’t want to forget her promise.
February 2013
Narantuyaa was gingerly placing her snow leopard coat on a chair in her apartment in Ulan
Bator, Mongolia. She had just gone to a meeting with President Tsakhiagiin Elbegdorj.
That night as she was searching for an important document in her storage room, a crystal
tumbled out from the tallest shelf onto the carpet along with the document. Naran picked up the
crystal. It was delicate, and its many facets reflected the light like a diamond. Where had she
gotten this? And then the past dawned on her. Nyra. Her promise. The snow leopards!
“Oh!” Naran cried out. “Oh, how foolish I have been! All those animal fur coats! Am I too late
to save my dear snow leopards now?”
The next day, Naran called for her private jet and directed the pilot to land it in the Gobi
Desert, where the snow leopards lived. She dashed to the snow leopards’ cave, which she had once
visited as a young child.
A single snow leopard lay on the cave ground.
Its body was covered with old wounds and a recent gash on its side was bleeding ceaselessly.
Narantuyaa crouched next to it.
“I am Nightshade,” the snow leopard rasped. “Are you Narantuyaa, the girl?”
“…Yes…why is there only one of you? Are there more snow leopards?” Naran asked anxiously.
“I am the only one left. Some were trapped by hunters wanting their fur, or died of hunger.”
“How did you get your scars?” Naran queried.
“I was like a fugitive, fleeing from one place to another. I had to hide from the hunters, while
trying to feed my breed. There isn’t much prey anymore, either…” Nightshade’s head drooped and
her eyes rolled.
“Nightshade!” Naran embraced the snow leopard in a tight hug. “Oh, what can I do to save you?”
“You did not keep your promise to Nyra,” Nightshade murmured with her eyes closed.
“No! Oh, I should have remembered! I am a government official, I should have stopped the
hunting! I should have done something!” Naran wept.
“It is too late,” Nightshade said simply, collapsing into Naran’s lap.
“No!” Naran screamed, sobbing and sobbing into Nightshade’s spotted fur.
Outside the cave, leaves rustled in the howling wind, echoing the snow leopard’s last words: It
is too late. It is already too late.
There were many snow leopards but here not one remains,
* * *
* * *
