The wind was blowing gently, but this time from the Gobi, not with the winter chill of Siberia. With the horses content and busy with their grass-ripping and chewing, Naratsetseg breathed in relief at the signs of summer warmth. Even being a woman born in and of the steppes, she had found that winter particularly hard to bear, with the constant concern over the animals.
Even in the deepest winter, as the snow piled against the ger and jammed the door shut, she went to her imagination, and created within her a vision of summer. Her ring reminded her, as she saw the clear blue of the turquoise from Isfahan brightly catching her eye. The special gem that came via the Uzbek trader with the penetrating stare, appearing one day seemingly out of nowhere. His odd presence signaled to her that what he carried was of significance, and without words, she selected the turquoise from his satchel.
The Turquoise Dot Ring