“I’m sorry.” His whisper comes from immediately behind me yet from a thousand miles away. As far as I’m concerned, all there is in the world are these caves, these spirits, and my leather boots that hike up to my knees. Worn, leather boots. The kind that I’ve casually slipped into since I could first walk and lift them from the ground and into the air and shoot an arrow and bring home a fattened ox so that we could finally have dinner after a long dust bowl in the summer. I feel his hand on my shoulder. I’ve never before noticed how strong, how heavy his hands are when they’re holding something other than a spear or a hide. Because when they’re holding my two shoulders, it’s easy to forget where he came from. It’s much too easy. To forget he’s a Highlander, and that Highlanders hurt and they slaughter and they throw rocks into our sticks until they feel satisfied with the kill count for the day. Hesitantly, I look up to him. He’s turned away from the cliffside, from the caves. Behind his own build, there’s the Seamstress, gilded with ancient chiseled boulders and carved by time. Never mind what I’ve thought before. Now, the world is back with me. I can’t hold it in my fingers or watch it slip away with the cruel whisper of mountain air. I’m alive. He’s alive. We’re both alive. It’s all I’ve ever needed. The two of us, best friends forever, up on the cliffside hunting for the oxen and hawk that our starving families need. “It’s okay,” I whisper back, afraid that a raised voice will shatter this valley after all it’s years of work. “Let’s move on.” I press on forward, keeping my eyes drawn to the loose trail we’ve treaded since the fall brought us hunger. Gripping hunger. Even as a midlander, I was left grasping for something, anything that could fit into my throat. And even as a highlander, he knew that the cities couldn’t provide for him anymore. For us. “The oxen will probably be up on the Splat,” he warns, pointing in the general direction of the cliff’s edge. “I’ve heard the grass is growing rather fruitfully up there this season.” I nod silently and slice cleanly through a thicket of oasis brush. I’ve never much liked the Splat, especially for hunting, but it’s a necessary evil if we have a hankering for oxen. They can’t get enough of the place. As we wade through Forgery Pond, a frigid little pocket of snowmelt that seems never to warm up, even in the sweltering summer heat, I glance back at the boy following me. I quickly look away, though, when he meets my gaze. Somehow, I still fear him. Centuries of torture and violence has instilled some horrible, nonsensical fear into me that I’m never able to shake. I squelch up into the clearing. “You’re not like the rest,” I say quietly. He keels over to cough up the water he’s got in his lungs. “Glad you could notice,” he responds, looking just over my shoulder. “I can see the cows from here. They’re looking primed for the hunt.” “What did they do to you?” I ask, completely ignoring him. “I… I mean, why don’t you just follow the norms? Why wouldn’t you just kill me off and take the meat with you?” He pauses, midway through holsetering his sopping boots back onto his leg. He shrugs. “The Highlanders… they took everything,” he said, his voice pained. “My sisters, my father, my mother. All I had was myself to fend for. When your mother came up, she told me your family needed help. And… and how could I fall into the Highlander’s trap? How could I let myself become one of them, shunning Midlanders and Lower-downs? Killing them off, walling them into caves? It didn’t seem right.” I leaned on my spear, wedged into the matted mud. “But they gave you all you needed,” I pressed. “They gave you food, and water, and bandages, and a home. Why would you leave?” He sighs. Leans forward. “But that’s where you’re wrong,” he says breathlessly. “They didn’t give me someone to trust. And that was all I ever wanted.” A soft smile spreads across my face, and only then do I notice that my arms are around his waist and we’re hugging and laughing and cursing the Highlanders for all they’ve done. The cows saunter over, and I stare them over. How could I kill them, like they Highlanders killed us? I had all I needed myself. Food could wait. I had friendship, I had a family. I had something to live for. And now, I told myself, I’d make sure that he did too.