The squirrel was old. He was older than most squirrels he knew, a fact that didn’t rest easy on his heart. On the brighter side, the gods had blessed him with the monkey’s friendship. The monkey prepared crushed walnuts for him. Things worked out nicely.

The squirrel had parts of the day it looked forward to. When the birds returned at sunset from their day’s foraging, they told him of all the things they had seen as they flew over Himavat and beyond. One of the younger birds came to him every day and stayed for hours, chirping away without a pause about what her day was like. When she tired, the squirrel told her many stories from back when he had been young and had roamed the land. She listened with patience (she preferred talking to listening) until her mother sang to her from above that it was time to nest for the night.