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but he found only buckshot in his leather satchel. He then remembered the parchment he had taken earlier in the day from the wall of prayer stones. The dakini script carried profound blessings, he knew, but he decided to offer it to the buddhas rather than keep it for himself. Reverently touching the paper to his head, he prayed for the opportunity to study with Nyala Pema Dündul and placed the paper on the shrine.
    He grabbed the musket leaning against the outside temple wall as he left, wanting to walk to the master but knowing that his father demanded he hunt. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he wandered alone. When he came to the edge of a cliff, he decided to rest and quickly fell asleep. As soon as he had dozed off, a voice like an ominous echo called for him by name. He felt as though he were falling into a hole with dark clouds enveloping and constricting his arms and legs. Whirling flames vaporized the clouds, and stepping out of the inferno was the most terrifying figure Sonam Gyalpo had ever seen—the wrathful One-Eyed Protectress of Mantras , the guardian of the innermost Dzogchen teachings. As she had once said to Nyala Pema Dündul:
    I have promised to constantly survey and accompany
    The yogis of the Great Perfection [Dzogchen] who have manifested
    The Natural State of the Primordial Nature.
    I am the one who protects the practitioner’s entourage from defects.
    And I protect against obstacles that cause discord.
    The One-Eyed Protectress captured Sonam Gyalpo with the gaze of her single eye. Her single breast hung low, and a lone, menacing fang dripped scarlet blood. Threatening and naked, she stood on a carpet of mold-ridden, half-decayed corpses. Sonam Gyalpo turned his eyes away from the ferocity. Iron mountains shot up all around, imprisoning him.
    “My mandate is not to be taken lightly,” she proclaimed. “Every treasure teaching has its time, place, and revealer.” Sonam Gyalpo had not realized that the parchment scroll he had taken from the stone prayer wall, and then left in the temple, was in fact a map to a treasure teaching hidden in the 8th century by Padmasambhava—and that it was intended for him.
    The One-Eyed Protectress grew larger with intimidating wrath, her turquoise-colored disheveled hair blowing in all directions.
    “How dare you reject the treasure map I offered to you? I shall devour your heart right now!”
    Her fang grew to the size of the universe itself. As the One-Eyed Protectress thrust herself upon Sonam Gyalpo, she sank her fang directly into his heart, nailing him to the mountainside.
    Sonam Gyalpo awoke drenched in sweat, looking around for someone, anyone, to help. Each heartbeat caused excruciating pain throughout his body. Stumbling to his feet, he noticed boulders had fallen around him. There, atop one of the boulders, was the same golden scroll that he had discovered earlier and left in the temple. It had once again been delivered to its rightful owner. He clutched the parchment as his own, never wanting to be separated from its blessing. He summoned all of his strength to return to his home, collapsing at the door, unconscious.
    Sonam Gyalpo was unable to eat. A constant fever reduced him to skin and bones. Herbal remedies were administered from village healers, and yogis tried to remove the cause of the boy’s sickness by performing fire rituals. Nothing worked. Drolma feared this was the end. A village lama suggested that, just as a wounded deer seeks solitude in which to heal, it would be beneficial for Sonam Gyalpo to move to Chopu Hermitage to recuperate. Drolma took her son there, and a monk nursed him. As his condition improved, one morning Sonam Gyalpo had a vision of Padmasambhava teaching him. Thereafter, his condition improved quickly.
    When Sonam Gyalpo returned home after a month, Drolma pleaded with Dargye that their son must be allowed to receive spiritual training. She told her husband about the divination she had performed the first time Sonam