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"Of course I kept my name. I won't forget the way we live. So many of us die that they just number us," said Shalai's Fifth.

The Sighing Hex sighed. "I know."

Fifth glowered at him. "Does it annoy you, that the way your people slaughter and eat mine frustrates me?"

A low growl built in Hex's throat. Fifth's ears shot up and he turned halfway around in a crouch with one hand braced on a tree and ready to climb it. The creature facing him tilted his head back and away, closed his eyes, and showed the backs of his hands. Every facet of the posture was designed to dissuade the idea he was a predator: yellow, hungry eyes hidden; neck exposed and teeth turned away; claws in an awkward, useless position and turned away from his friend.

For his part, Fifth made himself take quick breaths in and then push them out slowly to get his prey response under control. He knew Hex would wait for him. He always had, since the day they had met as children. After a few long, tense moments, Fifth said, "I'm sorry. I'm better, now."

The two faced one another again. Hex explained, "I'm frustrated for you, Fifth." His voice was low and calm. He had trained himself to keep the natural, guttural quality it usually had out when he spoke to Fifth. This way, the mellow sound calmed his smaller companion. "But I'm glad you kept the name."

"I know." No further explanation was needed, but still, Fifth leaned forward from his perch to offer a few grooming strokes of his tongue. Hex received them with a pleased rumble.

The difference between the two was a gulf that anyone else would have said was impossible to cross. Fifth was coated in brilliant red fur and wore a wrapped loin cloth of pounded bark and rope. He had woven edible decorations of nuts and berries and twigs, both green and aged, into the fur of his luxurious, excitable tail. He had hooked one ribbon of grass that also held an enormous eagle feather into a tear in his right ear that had never healed. In the other, curiously for a squirrel, was the skull of a sparrow that had been bleached by the sun. He often stood upright, though he was in a half crouch where he stood on the enormous roots of a tree near his home. Units of measurement were still unpopular, but generations to come would have put him at just under five feet tall. With a lithe, agile body that was light enough to whisk itself into the trees in a moment's notice, he was the picture of hardened, surviving, thriving youth among the recently uplifted red squirrels.

The Uplifting had generated The Sighing Hex, as well. Had he stood instead of sitting, he would have towered over Fifth, being half again as tall. Far from lithe, by himself he made the space between the starlit trees where they had met seem cramped with his muscle-bound body. The heat of his form radiated into the area, as well, even while he was calm. Less reliant on nimble turns and leaps, his only clothing was a simple rope of worked hide that hung loosely across his chest from one shoulder. It looped through a tied bag that Fifth knew held ornaments more appropriate for Hex's kin: the spoils of predation. He also knew, of course, that he had provided his friend with some of those, having harvested them from prey who had fallen to other means, to help cover for Hex's long sojourns into the woods. All the same, it didn't make it easier to look at a tremendous mountain lion replete with the bones and skins of his kin tied to arms and ankles like others did, and it was kind of Hex not to make him.

In a different world, one or two families stumbled upon genetic mutations that enabled an explosive evolution from somewhat anxious ape to a walking, running, hairless inventor and innovator. Here, instead, a great pulse had washed over the world, and minds throughout it had transformed rapidly that resulted in the same bodily changes: delicate hands capable of fine manipulations, hybrid postures allowing easy transitions among coursing, climbing, and sprinting, and powerful minds capable of fractal, imaginative thinking in countless dimensions. Fifth was taller than his parents by far, who were taller than their parents, who were taller than theirs, back just a relative handful of generations to chattering rodents in trees. Hex's people had grown, too, as their various prey species had grown, and tribes throughout the forest's fauna had arisen and begun fashioning tools and cultures and names.

Fifth took a deep breath and settled himself back against the great tree. "Sometimes saying it out loud again is like relaxing a cramped muscle."

"I understand," Hex said. And he did. He was used to repeating himself. He was not called The Sighing for nothing among his people. "I have spoken with my... elders... again. They laughed, again."

"Did they beat you this time?" Fifth asked with concern.

The lion flexed an enormous paw and grimaced. "Lightly."

There was no reason for these uplifted lions to continue feasting on squirrels and others who could think and build and speak. There were birds of prey and wolves who had learned to herd cattle and sheep beyond the forest's edge. A boar without speech was still plenty to feed a hungry lion for a day, or two. What rankled most, though, and was the most horrific to consider, was...

"Did you bring any of those cakes?" Hex rumbled hopefully.

Twin emotions of existential terror and the joy of providing for a friend shivered through Fifth from head to toe. He smiled and reached behind him into a pouch on his hip. "Of course."

A mix of honey, dried berries, and pulverized acorns came together into a sticky, sweet mass that even had protein to sustain one over a journey. On Hex's recommendation, Fifth had learned that adding a pilfered egg would bind the mix even better, and together, they had thus invented nutritious rations both of them could enjoy. They broke one in half and chewed in thoughtful, communal silence for a long moment. It was good, because they shared it. It was frightening, because if Hex's tribe could truly digest and live on plants and eggs, the only reasons for them to prey on the uplifted were willful naivety or sadistic glee. And the line between the two grew grayer each time Hex tried his hand at teaching them.

Despite these thoughts, food is the best common topic of conversation. Their conversation lightened while they ate. "I heard goats up the mountain have started curdling their milk and trading it as food."

Hex was aghast. "As a trick?"

"No! I hear it's sweet. We're sending some women with a small harvest to try it, soon."

"Will you bring me some?"

"Of course! Silly lion." Fifth chattered with laughter and scooted himself closer. It always took him several minutes to grow comfortable, even after all these years. But he inevitably did, each time they met.

"Ah, you're good to me. Hm, the mated pair of eagles near our den had... tied..." He frowned. The two had been forced to find a blend of their languages to speak in over time, and besides, new words came quickly. Times were changing. Language changed with them.

"Tied what?"

"Ah. Hm. Rope. Binding. Strings."

"Knots?"

"No, no. Here. Might I...?" He reached out a great paw towards Fifth's tail. It twitched a few times as though part of the conversation, itself, but Fifth swept it over and nodded assent. "Like this, I think." A few moments of silence passed while Hex delicately interweaved some of the longest hairs. When he was done, a few tiny, tight braids hung against the plush fur.

"Oh..."

"Braid!" Hex exulted.

The outburst sent Fifth darting up a tree, but before the lion could begin to apologize, a red blur came diving down to tackle the much larger male. They wrestled in a gleeful tangle. Once Fifth had realized the big cats knew how to play like this and that they even would purposely "lose" as part of the game, he had taken to it as a way to connect with his friend with abandon. Hex would let him roll on top to "win,' and then the massive creature would casually tumble over him and pin him with weight alone, before letting Fifth wriggle out and begin the pattern anew from a different angle.

After minutes, Fifth collapsed on his friend's broad chest and lay there, panting and trembling and laughing. "Show me why they call you what they do," he said.

A massive leonine paw enveloped the left side of his face. His breathing slowed immediately. The thumb brushed his ear where the bird skull was tied. A faint, lilac light illuminated the interior of the skull to make its eyes shine. In short order, birdsong poured sweetly from the macabre ornament. Fifth's tall ears shivered with sensation and delight.

"How do you do that?" he murmured while he buried the other side of his face against Hex's chest to hear his heartbeat on one side and the song of the sparrow on the other. He had asked before. He liked hearing.

"I put a little piece of myself into it."

"And how does that little piece know what to do, all on its own?"

"Because all it needs to know is that I want to sing to you."

Fifth tightened his grip on the lion's sides in wordless love. Hex draped his free arm over the squirrel's back tenderly. The space between them seemed to vanish as they shared heartbeats and warmth and the song continued on. The universe overhead wheeled with kindly languidness to give the two of them more time together. Morning would come, with hunting and thinking and worrying, but for now, there was only feeling, and breathing, and being.

Buzzing insects filled Hex's ears along with bird calls, the grunting of nearby pigs, and the rustling of wind in the trees. He had rolled onto his side in the night, so his body nearly covered his small companion. Odd. Fifth was usually a light sleeper and would have left for his people and to start foraging for the day's meals hours ago. Ah.

"How long have you been awake?"

The sharp red ears gave telltale quivers. "Not so long as you think. Longer than is wise."

"You needed time, after yesterday," Hex suggested.

Fifth murmured against his chest, "My people are content with death, I suppose. I prefer this." His fingers gripped in the mountain lion's fur. "I was exhausted from anger," he said slowly, considering what the words meant. It felt strange to think about what he was thinking and feeling.

Hex waited a long time before asking his next question. "Ah. Would you like to meet my tribe?"

"Hm." Fifth didn't tense the way Hex had suspected he might. He became thoughtful. "Yes," he said carefully. "I will bring some pounds of the acorn cakes."