Ama Tsomo’s sacred yak has been stolen, but she doesn’t want to see it through as she worries for the thieves would be caught. Along with the praying of every word of ‘Om mani padme hum’, taking of every sentence of oath, flying of every slip of paper with blessing, appear the downsman’s extensive love, broad bosom, strong power of introspection one after another, then the hearts of them Like the spread-wings tercels are soaring to the illimitable horizon…