Sunset Over the Mongolian Steppe "The sky burns in shades of gold and crimson as the sun sinks behind the rolling grasslands. A circle of abandoned yurts stands in the distance, their felt coverings stirring slightly in the evening wind. The vastness of the land hums with an eerie quiet, broken only by the occasional cry of an unseen bird. A small fire pit, long extinguished, holds the remnants of a forgotten gathering—scattered stones, charred wood, and a single cup left behind. A breeze picks up, carrying with it the distant echo of hooves on the wind-swept plain."