First-hand falconry experience with a trained Kyrgyz golden eagle near Issyk-Kul, where the road into Kyrgyzstan quickly reminded us that mountains, horses, and birds of prey still have seniority.

Tajikistan had not ended with one clean line. It ended in stages: the exit gate, one last control point, gravel, a flag, solar panels, antennas, painted curbs, and the old M41 climbing toward Kyzyl-Art through high ground where Tajikistan had not quite disappeared and Kyrgyzstan had not quite begun.

Shehzadi rolled into that no-man's-land with Karakul behind her, Pamir dust still on the windshield, and the Kyzyl-Art crossing ahead. Tajikistan had taken its fee in altitude, water, rock, cold, patience, and mechanical sympathy. Kyrgyzstan did not arrive all at once either. Borders in the Pamirs prefer to spread out, take their time, and make geography do overtime.