Engaging with one of the younger boys in a bout of Japanese-style sumo outside the ger, the taller boy came up and asked if I would like to ride a horse. I could find no reason to refuse. How could I turn down an offer to ride a descendant of the Mongolian horses that swept across Eurasia in the thirteenth century? The chestnut horse had other ideas. It didn’t move a hair. Perhaps he didn’t fancy me. The lad smacked the horse’s backside, to no avail, whereupon everyone piled out of the ger and started jeering at the beast. He was a tough chestnut, but when the long-haired lad placed a rope around his neck and tugged, the horse started moving. In fact he moved away smartly and began accelerating rapidly. (from "Against the Wind" - Poolbeg Press)