Moving over the surface of the tundra, alone,10 years, perhaps to the day, appears the long haired Ox. Previously, the Yak, DNA clues intermingling as the continents shift and hunters stalk.
The original vision, a small female, the man, lays a fur over her, she hides behind a rock.
Now, the permafrost, softens, in a vehicle, lights along the surface of the snow, driving toward the end of the Earth. The ox finds me. My life.