"Two years ago nearly twelve thousand people died of starvation because of a drought in Mongolia. Perhaps even worse, almost a million people became entirely destitute as uncountable livestock died. While local banks recalled their loans to farmers it became impossible to buy hay, local banks answering to economic pressure imposed deliberately by a powerful international bank that profited from the movement of so much money. This bank did this before and they will do it again. They pay scientists to predict the coming of the Dzud weather cycle, but don't use the knowledge to prevent loss or starvation but instead to balance their stocks and suckle the bleeding economy. The government is in their pockets too, further exasperating the man-made darkness of the natural disaster." Professor Tsetserlegch had said publicly. Now his reputation had been shredded. Nobody would help him.

The thought of that experience was never far from his mind.

He thought about this even as our heroes were in a small airplane racing down a runway ahead of men with guns in jeeps. The men had tried to stop them by force and razed the barn that stockpiled the seeds. They were part of a private security force sent to stop the second seeding flights.

Behind them the barn that served as a warehouse was a great column of smoke.

The last remaining seeds were on the plane as it accelerated for takeoff.

James was sweating and his wife was praying.

Professor Tsetserlegch had no apologies for his allies. They had known since the beginning what this was. He recalled briefly part of his conversation with Asha, before she spoke to James.

James had said that such a sacrifice was within his spirit. It was the most spiritual thing James had ever said. James believed in atheism, a great faith in the face of such obvious evil all around. His wife was a Jain saint, ready to die alongside her husband if that is what it took to be faithful. Professor Tsetserlegch believed in himself and in science. He knew that they were changing the terrain, changing history.

They were all probably going to get killed.

"It is a species of cynodon dactylon that is highly invasive, cold weather won't kill it and it laughs at droughts. Once it takes over a lawn it stays. Burning it doesn't get rid of it. Herbicides barely make it turn color and grazers can't seem to eat it as fast as it grows. In fact it likes getting eaten, the seeds start in the droppings much faster. And the seeds sometimes survive burning." Professor Tsetserlegch explained. He held a handful of the precious grass seeds.

"This will be it then." Asha said quietly. "What do you plan to do?"

"We have to get past the red tape. There are economic issues. International banks that profit from the saturation of goat meat in the market before the years of Dzud. This has gone on for decades. My own parents..." Professor Tsetserlegch didn't finish explaining to her. She already knew the story.

"Millions wont starve. We are going to be criminals." Asha had a steadiness in her voice that her friend relied upon. She was his rock. Professor Tsetserlegch said:

"Will you ask your husband if he will use his plane for this? It will be a sacrifice. I want to dump the seeds during the next rain. All of them."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"It will take many flights. The risk is great." Asha noted, looking at the stacks of barrels of seeds, smuggled from Bermuda. Mongolian customs served the government and the government served the banks. These seeds and what they were doing was dissanctioned. They might find themselves in over their heads if they got caught.

"Will you ask him?" Professor Tsetserlegch requested again.

She sighed.

"He would be unhappy with me if I did not volunteer him for this. We are at your service, sir. You know this." Asha replied dutifully.

"This time is different. We might be completing our story by doing this." Professor Tsetserlegch reminded her of the grave risks of defiance of the powerful and the greedy. Feeding millions is a sin against the wealthy.

In the airplane they flew away.

Then they knew terror, behind them was a drone, also airborne.

"We need to take the Almes Steppes. There is nowhere else where it would be good to drop our load where the winds will continue to do our work." Professor Tsetserlegch said grimly.

James nodded. He knew they were going to get shot down. They took a sharp left and started towards the Almes Steppes where the weather would help the seeds continue into the valleys below.

An explosion shook the small aircraft as the drone shot apart one of the wing engines.

"We are going down." James informed the passengers.

Professor Tsetserlegch and Asha went to the bay and started opening the barrels. They were getting knocked around as the plane began its crash landing.

Without mercy the drone continued to shoot apart the plane until the second engine exploded as well. Professor Tsetserlegch had fallen over, blood was splattered all around him. Asha had no time to go to him, instead she opened the seeding door and started dropping the seeds to the air.

The plane hit the ground moments later.

The drone circled a few times and then headed back to the airfield.

"James?" Asha asked her husband if he was still alive. She sensed that he was, but wanted his conscious gaze. He woke up, still in the cockpit.

Somehow they had both survived, but Professor Tsetserlegch had not made it out alive.

They staggered and wandered away from the crash site. They had seeded this area before and some of the grass was already growing, thriving in the wasteland.

They camped that night at the bottom of a steep hill. Atop this hill was a village and in the morning they would climb to it.

When the sun came up they began to ascend. The shale was treacherous and as they hiked and climbed it grew steeper and steeper. Soon they were forced to travel around, trying to climb sideways and finding themselves nearly clinging to a rocky face.

Then they saw them.

Three black headed goats were watching them and their eyes spoke of feral hunger. The ram nimbly approached them, leaping from rock to rock.

"It is coming!" Asha warned James.

The small black headed goat reached them and attacked without hesitation. It easily dislodged James and knocked him free from the slope to plummet below.

Asha started to climb down to him. She could hear him moaning below.

The goats reached him first. "Help!" he was calling to her.

His body was broken in the fall but he still lived. The goats began to bite and claw with their hooves. They pulled bits of his flesh from his body, eating clothing and skin in strips. The ram licked the pooling blood of his prey.

Two more of their herd arrived and began to feed as well.

By the time Asha got to them, armed with a branch she had found, they had killed him. They were eating him. She felt a dark ache inside but it did not drive her to violence against the animals.

She left his remains for them.

Asha now noticed a path from where she was that led back towards the village and she followed it.

It was dusk when she reached the top of the bluff. In front of the red sunset stood a stack of rocks. Through the rocks were three poles and atop each pole was a skull. The two on the sides were human skulls and the one in the middle was a goat skull. Ropes of hemp were strung with bones and beads of opals. The rocks were a dull brown, painted with dried blood.

Asha walked beyond this grotesque effigy of the drought to the village.

Night had risen from below.

"It is done." she said as she sat down by the well, and wept.