Genghis, as he looked on the vast hills and plains of the Steppe, sees peace. As he bends down and plucks a flower from the grass, he hears children running from yurt to yurt, playing hide and seek. Their laughs fill him with sadness. These are his Mongolians, his children. He knows that one day their laughs will be replaced with cries: cries of anger, cries of fear, cries of sadness, and then silence. He dreads the day he knows will have to come, but all he can do is prepare and pray that tomorrow isn't that day.