High on the Mongolian Steppes, where wave upon wave of green grass covers the land like an emerald sea, there lived a great herd of winged horses. Now at every full moon, when the land was bathed in silver radiance, the young star princes, who dwelt in the kingdom of the sky, would fall to the earth and ride these wondrous creatures. Faster than the wind they would fly over the grasslands, whilst the horses’ manes trailed behind them like great silken ribbons.

Fairest of all the princes was Khokhoo Namjil. But whilst his brothers would ride the horse nearest to hand, Khokhoo Namjil was careful only to ride his favourite horse. Climbing swiftly on to its back, he would lean forward and whisper gently in its ear,

O magical horse, with wings of light,

Carry me swiftly through the night.

With thundering hooves and flowing mane,

Fly my friend across the plain!

And with a whinny of delight the horse would leap high into the sky and carry him far, far away.

One night Khokhoo Namjil and his horse flew faster and further than ever before, leaving their companions far behind. Above them lay a clear starlit sky and below as he looked down at the sleeping earth, Khokhoo Namjil suddenly felt his heart skip a beat. A young herdswoman was just coming out of a small yurt and she was surely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He reined in his horse and landed a few feet away from her. Without a backward glance at his horse, he followed the woman into the tent. All the horse could do was wait patiently for his rider to return.

It was still night when the prince left the tent, only to be followed by the pleas of the young herdswoman, “to stay until the dawn sun had peeped its gentle face over the horizon.”

Khokhoo Namjil tenderly kissed her and promised her he would return with the light of the next full moon. Then leaping onto his horse he was gone. Higher and higher the horse galloped up into the sky until the beautiful herdswoman was nothing but a small speck left far below.

But now time dragged slowly by and Khokhoo Namjil was impatient for the next full moon. Why did he have to wait? Surely he could fall to earth and ride anytime he wished. Why his horse would carry him whenever he chose! His brothers warned him that the horses were not ordinary creatures to be used as common packhorses. But Khokhoo Namjil was too eager to be with his beautiful herdswoman to listen to their advice.

The moon was only a thin slip of silver in the sky and the earth was dark and silent as Khokhoo Namjil fell to the ground. He quickly found his horse and climbing onto its back he began to sing,

O magical horse, with wings of light,

Carry me swiftly through the night.

With thundering hooves and flowing mane,

Fly my friend across the plain!

Swiftly the horse climbed up into to the sky, following the path that would take them to the yurt on the green hillside. As they flew, the horse heard the excited voice of the prince imagining his beloved’s surprise at seeing him so unexpectedly.

The young herdswoman was indeed delighted at the unexpected arrival of her prince, only this time she was determined that he would not leave her at the first light of day. As soon as he was fast asleep she crept silently out of the yurt. She looked across to where his horse stood silently waiting and then she looked down at the knife she held in her hand. It was only small, but razor sharp. Slowly slowly she felt along the horse’s neck, its back, then along the tops of its legs, until with a little cry of triumph she found them- small hidden wings! The blade was swift and fast, just a quick flash of silver in the darkness as she cut off the wings. Her task complete, she ran quickly back into the yurt.

Khokhoo Namjil woke suddenly. It was just before dawn. The young herdswoman was sleeping so peacefully that Khokhoo Namjil couldn’t bear to wake her. He bent over and whispered, “Sleep my beloved, and wait for me at the next full moon.” As he slipped out of the yurt he didn’t notice the herdswoman open her eyes and smile to herself as she lay there in the darkness.

Khokhoo Namjil climbed onto his horse, oblivious to the terrible plight that had befallen his horse. He pulled on the reins and his horse leapt up skywards  then suddenly Khokhoo Namjil found himself falling down, down, back to the waiting earth. Beside him lay his horse. Its neck was broken. The prince sat by his faithful friend and cradled its head in his arms. Gently he fingered the scars where the wings had once grown and finally understanding the treacherous act of the beautiful herdswoman, he wept.

The horse died as the first soft rays of the dawn sun flooded across the Steppes. Sadly the prince whispered in its ear,

O magical horse with wings of light,

You carried me swiftly through the night.

With thundering hooves and flowing mane

Fly my friend across the plain!

Still unable to leave his friend, the prince kept a tearful vigil at his horse’s side. But as the first star appeared in the night sky, Khokhoo Namjil found that instead of his horse, he was a holding a carved fiddle. Its long and slender neck crowned with a horse’s head. And as the deepening darkness gathered around him, Khokhoo Namjil started to play a long sad song for his lost horse, his lost love and his lost home in the stars.