There was no time to worry about the rain shadows that were already disappearing, making way for the long cold winter. The Indian monsoon was slowly coming to an end and his only shelter for the long season ahead would be the base of the Himadri mountain range in cavernous burrows where the jagged steep peaks loomed ahead. He must find his food for the season. This yeti, already eighteen seasons old, knew how to forage through the Himalayan forest. While over 12 feet tall, he also mastered how to disappear in daylight amongst the juniper trees, lest he encountered an adventurer or man-camp.

His infrequent companions were the equally elusive snow leopard, and the Griffon vulture who each knew his whereabouts from time to time because they were expert trackers, better than he. The snow leopard kept her distance, earning her the much-acclaimed moniker of ‘the ghost hunter' but in the warmer months she would find her way to the river bend. She was the most beautiful creature to ever walk this earth, the Yeti often thought. Her illustrious silver fur shining bright among those perfectly patterned black rosettes.

She was a devout follower of solitude. She believed in it almost as a religion and had a fierce disdain for the world beyond. She always reminded the Yeti that they were misunderstood and why they needed to remain `ghosts' and `monsters'. They were hunted. They were feared. They were prized. They were reduced to unflattering fictional folklore.

The Griffon Vulture very rarely met the Leopard and Yeti as he kept his company with his kind near the man-camps. Unlike the majestic snow leopard, the Griffon vulture was pale, brown and scrawny with an elongated neck that almost looked monstrous. What he lacked in beauty, he made up in keenness and intellect. It was why he would unusually venture away from his committee of fellow vultures and find the Yeti and Leopard to converse with them, but mostly to brag about his intellect and findings.

If the three – the Yeti, the Leopard and the Vulture – did have the occasion to meet, they would meet at the river bend and recount at what new watering holes were the Monal birds congregating and whether there were any sightings of man-camps. No... they were not friends. Friends were not welcomed in this unforgivingly wild, barren land where you couldn't be slowed down by idle chatter or long leisure sips of time. The Yeti always had to be moving. He knew this even when he was too small to understand feet from fist or why the sun blazed hot sometimes. He had no family as yeti often arrived in this world alone, with no bosom to cling to and no smile to depend on. The Yeti knew he must always be moving so as to never be found.

On this particular day, as the Yeti ventured into the moss forest, he planned to thump the juniper trees hard so as to force its last assemblage of fruit into his deep wide hands. Often faced with a paltry showing of anything sweet at this time of year, he was reduced to eating nuts from the oaks in the Valley. As he waded deeper through the fern and moss, he spotted the familiar wingspan of a single Griffon vulture above him. He knew he was being beckoned out of the shadows. As he was far away from the nearest man village, he was safe to emerge. He followed the Vulture for a while until the Vulture began his spiraling descent and finally, the Yeti could slow down. They had reached their spot. At first, he was unaware of what was to be sighted. Was it fire? Was it a man-camp? He peered above and beyond the horizon. But the Vulture was looking down at his claws. He then saw what had caught the Vulture's attention, but he was taken aback by the first words uttered by the Vulture.

"Well, what IS it?" demanded the Vulture.

The Yeti had never been asked a question by the Vulture before. The Vulture was always quick to boast about what HE knew. The Yeti peered down to a large red ball sitting almost perfectly on a pile of white snow. Pools of red blood seeped into the blanket of white snow beneath him. He had never seen anything so big and red. What was it? How did it get here? He slowly picked up the ball to study what looked like a round red flame. It had tough leathery skin. It was neither warm nor cold to the touch. He sniffed the small lotus-shaped opening and he then tried to peer through to see what was beyond that hole. No fragrance. Nothing to see. Well, it must be something to play with! He threw it up and over his head and laughed as it bounced and bounced down the hill. The Vulture, as expected, looked on disapprovingly and impatiently. After retrieving the red ball, he then tucked it in the hollow of his armpit as he lumbered back to the moss forest. He liked this ball. He thought it was special. It was unusually vibrant, and the color cheered him so. The Vulture followed him.

"That red juice is not blood! It is neither dead nor alive!" the Vulture exclaimed. "It must have been brought by other animals! This is a sign that there are more life forms and therefore food to be found. Let us find out what the Leopard says".

Yes... the Leopard has lived in the Himalayas far longer than they and might be able to claim what this oddity is. They were fortunate to find the Leopard fishing by the river banks. As the Leopard noticed the red ball in the Yeti's outstretched hand, her large olive eyes lit up.

"Well, what IS it? "she demanded.

The humble shrug and sheepish grin of the towering Yeti confirmed her suspicions. She immediately barked out "DISCARD! Throw it far away!".

"But why?" wondered the Yeti to himself.

As if the Leopard read his mind, she immediately swiped the ball out of his hand and allowed it to tumble into the stream. The Yeti, horrified, immediately ventured into the freezing water to retrieve it. As he was doing so, the Leopard called out "Do not touch things that we know nothing about! It is foreign to us and we have no need for it. They could be leaving it for us to HARM us! It could spread like a disease. Or it could puncture us like a knife. It could burn us like a hot flame. We are never safe. Discard, discard, DISCARD!". As the Yeti fled, frightened by the Leopard's words, and the wet ball tucked in the hollow of his armpit, he briefly glanced back to see the Vulture and Leopard staring bewildered and concerned.

When nightfall arrived that night and the Yeti finally found a familiar burrow large enough to sleep in, it only then occurred to him that he was unsuccessful in his pursuit of food to store for the long winter. He would try tomorrow because he was famished. He studied his red ball that kept him company the whole trek back to the base of Himadri. He hummed a tune and soothed the `fireball' to sleep. He thought about the warning of the Leopard and her resolve to never let anything in and to keep everything out. He understood her fear. Her friends and family had been relentlessly hunted and there were so few of her kind left. He admired how opportunistic the Vulture was and his optimism of something bigger and better that may await. He, himself, was neither fearful nor optimistic. He was simple-minded. The thought did occur that perhaps he would not be able to survive many seasons like the snow leopards and vultures because he couldn't imagine any possibility of what lay beyond today.

As he was studying his red ball, he noticed its fleshy interior exposed as some of the red exterior peeled off from the water. Curious, he peeled more of the red skin back to find.... Jewels! Beautiful seed-like jewels! They glistened in the moonlight and as he pawed at them with his large claws, he was overcome with sweet abandon. He leaned his nose into the opening gnawed at the remaining carcass while sweet red juice rushed into his mouth. Oh, what bliss! What sweet delicious bliss. The Yeti was overcome with joy for this was a gift that arrived today... and not tomorrow.