Humming of the Wind
Heep Yunn School, Ho Yuen Hin, Fiction: Group 4
Hmm…hmm…
Songs of the wind. Zayaa closed her eyes. She kept her fingers leaping on the holes. The air
first came out as a croon from the tsuur, then it grew and grew, and before long Zayaa found
herself overcome by a deep and penetrating hum. She felt it, saw it entwining with the chilling
gust, gushing across the prairie and sweeping down every strand of grass on its way.
She stood up and kicked off her shoes. She felt the tickles under her feet. Tap, tap, hop and
swirl. She was dancing, dancing with the wind! But still she kept the melody flowing. The earth was
boundless; the sky had no roof. Every inch of soil awaited her arrival. She felt a gentle stroke running
down her spine. She was free, and powerful! Zayaa could almost taste the mightiness in the air…
“Zayaa, precious, I know you’d be here!” Zayaa felt a tap on her shoulder. She gasped and
faltered, falling hard on the grass. “Mother!” Her mother helped her up. Of course she’d be in the
meadows, where else could she be? For ten years she had spent her days in the grand pasture a
mile from her clan’s yurts, it would be about dusk when she started making her way back. She
glanced up and found herself nearly blinded by the overhead sun. It was only noon. “Why so
early, mother?” she was dragged as she clumsily picked up her tsuur and put on her shoes. “Great
news, dearie! Great news!” They began jogging back to the camp site. Zayaa was surprised to find
the whirring breeze didn’t calm her as it usually did.
On Zayaa’s bed laid an unwrapped white handkerchief, revealing the sugar, tea leaves and
pastern inside? She knew what that means - a wedding proposal.
“Oh darling, aren’t you elated? It’s Gantulga. The richest lad of the region! Your father and I
accepted it right away. It’s all set! You know, these things don’t happen every day…” her mother said.
Zayaa faded away. Marriage! She hadn’t expected it to come so soon. She thought about her
mother: simple, contented, satisfied; trapped, domesticated, inferior to her father. And Gantulga.
When did they last meet? Oh right, the annual bazaar when she was five. She couldn’t even recall
his face. Zayaa was blank. What about the rivers, the woods, the deserts? What about roaming
around the empire with her tsuur? What about falling in love? She felt a cloud of frustration
rolling around her, like a thick woolen blanket. For once, she was angry with her parents. I want
my life! The fervid sixteen-year-old part of her screamed.
Zayaa stood up, and before she knew, she was dashing to the family’s stable. She hopped on
to Ja, a jet black mare, and within seconds she was nowhere in sight of her mother. “Faster, Ja!
Faster!” She was carrying some wine in a leather bag, and cheese, too - all that were left in her
unfinished picnic that morning.
She journeyed through the day and by the dawn of the next morning, she found herself
surrounded by miles and miles of golden sand, tinted with the first ray of sunlight. Indeed,
originally living on the fringe of Gobi, Zayaa had crossed the mountain ranges through the night
and landed on the desolate desert.
She landed on her feet and looked around. Everything looked similar, yet so distinct at the
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