A tickling sensation brushes my face. I open my eyes and bite back a scream. Blue glows in my visual plane, fuzzy from being so close. Tiny legs skitter across my nose before two wings take flight. The butterfly flutters about the room, its wings making a soft flapping sound in the stillness.

I rub drowsiness from my eyes. I must've fallen asleep while waiting for the tribe to settle down. Every bit of shuteye helps, so I don't feel too bad about it. Though I'm lucky the butterfly woke me. Otherwise, I might've missed my appointment with the Earth Watcher.

It doesn't take long to throw my bag over my shoulders, a robe overtop. The extra warmth doesn't bother me as much as it has in the past. Coolness has laced the air the past two days, during the tribe's gathering and tonight. The pleasant nip made last night's fire and music pleasant, cozy.

In an impromptu change, Ellna told a story of the season's change, asking Hannei, Yefto, and I to fill in background music to set the ambiance. I wish I could've been in a more alert state of mind to focus more on the notes I weaved between Hannei's ciwien pipe and Yefto's voice. But the other tribe members didn't seem to notice. Some even complimented me at the night's end.

The butterfly swirls out of my cave. Before I can worry about it attracting attention, it floats up the cliffside, disappearing into the trees above. I walk down the mountain path, stopping before I reach the fractured cliff. After my last meeting with the hooded figure, her butterflies showed me a route back to my cave, bypassing the guards in the fractured cliff. I never noticed this before, but faint steps line the rock face above the matriarchs' cave. There's a bend in the mountain path, forming a tight crevice. From there, slight notches are forged into the rock.

I climb up the rocky ladder, blinking away dizziness when it churns my head. My fingers dig hard against the mountain to ground me in the waking world. The blue butterfly hovers at the top. I pull myself onto the grass, my arms like gelatin wanting to melt into the grass. Light loops in the air, then the butterfly heads into the forest. I follow its summoning.

The ground slopes, descending into increasingly thicker trees. Though dark, there's a familiarity about this forest, the one I've gathered flowers and plants from my whole life.

The one hiding my mother.

A second butterfly emerges from the trees. One becomes three, then ten, then unaccountable. Shadows are cast in a blue glimmer, showing the way through the undergrowth, toward my blackmailer.

The hooded figure materializes from the darkness, one moment empty space, the next occupied by someone clad in black. The same flap shrouds the person's face; the same pyramidic stance is taken from the figure's head to feet.

"We meet again, Celisae," a voice chimes. "I see you have made the right choice at least in part."

"I have the cloak," I say. Already, my arms are leaving the robe's sleeves, removing the bag from my back.

"Then you have made the right choice," the Earth Watcher says. "Shall I see your handiwork?"

I nod. I slip my ika silk gloves on, not because I'm afraid of being burned, but to protect my hands from that strange sensation I felt two nights ago. The ika silk parcel slides from my bag. Golden light spills around us, mingling with the butterflies to create a teeming mosaic of green, yellow, and blue.

The figure doesn't respond immediately. I wonder if she's awestruck by the power radiating off it. Or perhaps she's slightly frightened, as I was, as I still am.

"Why are there white strands?" Though high-pitched as usual, I detect an edge to the hooded figure's voice.

"That's ika silk," I say. I swallow, desperate to prevent my throat from entirely drying out. "It helps to prevent burns while... handling the cloak." I refrain from mentioning that one can 'wear' the cloak, just in case she never considered doing so before. But in my gut, I have a feeling the thought has crossed the figure's mind. In fact, it could very well be the reason behind the request for a sunlight cloak.

"Very well," the hooded figure says. "You may leave it on the ground where you stand."

I lay the sunlight on the ika silk, folding it in thirds.

"You have done well for obeying me, Celisae," the hooded figure. "My butterflies will show you back to camp."

I hesitate. "You won't tell the tribe?"

"I won't tell them what? Your secret?" Slowly, I nod. Silvery laughter spills from the figure. I feel both unnerved and like a child who's done something foolish. "I always uphold my bargains, Celisae, so long as you uphold yours."

My teeth nibble on my bottom lip. Despite all I've endured, it almost feels too easy, too simple. Perhaps it's because of how short our interaction has been. I expected more ceremony or confirmation that the hooded figure will follow through on her end of the bargain.

But if she says that our deal is done, I just have to trust her against all my instincts telling she's shady.

I feel lost as to how to bid her goodbye. Finally, I determine that the hooded figure isn't one for ceremony. I put my bag back on and turn to leave. A line of butterflies disappear into the trees, and I trail after them.

After a few paces, I glance over my shoulder. The hooded figure still stands in the dark, unmoving. It appears that she hasn't even moved an inch since I left her.

She remains that way until I can see her no more.

***

I return to my cave in a daze. My feet barely obey me as I stumble under the dimly lit rocks. Moonlight illuminates a shape standing inside, and I snap to attention right before I run into Ixek. A frown creases his brow. His eyes look me up and down, taking in the winter tunic covering me. At least the sunlight cloak no longer weighs heavy in my bag. That's a burden lifted from my shoulders.

Tense seconds pass. Then, Ixek reaches a hand into a pocket in his tunic, drawing out another piece of white cloth.

"Here," he says. "From Nal m'se. It's the next cloth. Same parcel as last time." He clips each statement, like he's recalling the instructions in short bursts.

"A-alright." I hold the cloth in my palms. It helps absorb some of the sweat collecting there.

He doesn't move, doesn't head for the exit, just stares at me. Finally, he figures out a way to voice the questions likely swirling through his head.

"It probably is better to not sneak out of the camp. It's dangerous at night and... well, you know what'd people say if they found out."

I nod. He's right. During the day, less attention is paid to me, and it's more acceptable to slip away should someone notice. At night, however, I risk my reputation every time I disappear. Something about the darkness lends itself to more taboo activity. If I were discovered to be away, people would wonder what I have to hide.

And then it would all come back to Geanna, my mother.

"I-I'm sorry," I say, though part of me doesn't really know why. Perhaps because I hope he won't tell on me if I show remorse for my actions?

"I'm not going to tell Nal m'se, if you're concerned about that," Ixek says. "It was just a word of advice. People do talk. You know it, I know it, we all know it."

And the last thing I want is to fuel the gossip.

I give a swift nod. Believe me, if I didn't have to sneak out, I wouldn't. I wish I could explain myself, make him understand that I'm not being careless or reckless. But I can't for obvious reasons. Besides, it shouldn't matter what Ixek perceives of me, so long as he doesn't tell Nal m'se that he found me out of my cave when I should've been asleep.

Ixek seems rooted to the ground, not a muscle twitching to leave. "Well, good luck on the parcel. I will return after three moons, like last time."

A warning underlies his words. Make sure you're here.

"It will be complete," I assure him. "I promise."

Finally, Ixek departs from my cave. The stifling air lets up a little, allowing me to breathe easier. I throw my bag and winter robe into the wooden chest. It isn't until my head hits my pillow when I realize that I have to find more light and spin into thread.

It won't be so bad now that the sunlight cloak is done. I've hunted and spun sunlight for half my life. And I'm destined to continue, as that's the name I've made for myself, the skill I chose.

Waterproof robes. Sunlight thread.

***

I hug my arms over my shoulders. The pre autumn chill lingers in the air. I almost wish for my outer tunic, but flashbacks to the sticky sweat coating my skin dampen the thought. Afternoon sunlight glimmers in a thin beam through the trees, spotlighting Mother's cave. I hunch forward and duck under the bushes shrouding the entrance.

"Hello, Mother," I say. Mother's gaunt face lifts, her eyes staring at me from hollowed sockets.

"Have you been staying up late again?" she asks. "You look a sight, Celisae."

I bite back a retort. After all, it's my fault that her clothes hang loose on her frame. It's my fault I can't bring her food more often. And more than likely, it's my fault that the Earth Watcher found out my secret, leading to the blackmail that ate up my life for nearly fifteen moons.

"I brought some stew." I hand her the wet cloth of food. My pocket is soiled from the broth-soaked meat and vegetables, but it was as much as I could salvage from lunch. I felt like she ought to have a more satisfying meal today, since I haven't seen her for at least four moons.

An apple weighs heavy in my other pocket. I give it to her as well. "This can be for later today. I plan to return tomorrow with more to make up for my absence."

Mother raises an eyebrow, but a mouthful of food inhibits a verbal response. I sit beside her on the hard floor, resting my hands on my temples. I feel like I'm physically holding myself awake. Still, a slight sense of relief prevents me from collapsing. No more late nights and early mornings. No more sunlight weaving or creepy meetings in the forest.

I lean back, and something pokes my tailbone. I turn around to find a small pit, brown and slightly spiked. Traces of yellow fruit remain, but aren't dried onto the surface. If I didn't know better, I'd say it once belonged to an elcava. But elcava just started to come into season with the chill in the air. I know I haven't brought any to Mother for at least two seasons. How could the flesh of the fruit appear so fresh?

In my peripheral, I glimpse Mother wolfing down the last traces of stew. I stare at her for a long time as fragmented questions and guesses align in my head.

"Mother, what's this?" I ask. I hold up the pit for her to inspect.

Mother barely gives it a second look. "It's a pit."

"Where did it come from?"

"A fruit."

"I don't believe I've brought any pitted fruits in a while," I say. Mother doesn't respond. She occupies herself with shifting her position, folding up the now empty cloth. "Mother, this pit is fresh. Where did it come from?"

Mother waves an exasperated hand. "The earth."

Worry clenches at my chest. "Mother, did you leave the cave?" Panic creeps into my voice, and I force my voice to remain steady.

Mother faces me with all the intensity and dignity of a parent. "What do you want from me, Celisae? Do you want me to starve?"

"Mother!" I exclaim. "How could you? Someone could've seen you!"

"I will not be cooped up in here, forced to waste away more than I have to."

"But—"

"I got water too," Mother states, matter of fact. "I would've died of thirst if I waited for you to return."

My hand clutches my forehead. "You can't just leave whenever you want. We had an agreement."

"I always uphold my bargains, Celisae, so long as you uphold yours."

I close my eyes, squeezing the Earth Watcher's voice from my head.

"How many times have you left before?" I ask.

"You are not my matriarch, Celisae," Mother chides. "I do not answer to you."

"You don't answer to anyone," I mutter.

Mother's brown eyes narrow. "What was that? Don't mumble. If you have something to say, say it to my face."

"How many times have you left before?" The fight has left my voice, left me weak and undefended. But I just need to know this one answer. I need to know if who's carelessness led to blackmail.

"Celisae, look at me." I lift my eyes from the ground, to the intense brown eyes Mother aims at me. "I never left my cave before. And if it pleases you, it won't happen again."

The gentleness in her voice reaches out to me, tries to relax me into satisfaction. But I won't let my guard down yet.

"Do you promise?" Tears blur Mother's blank face. "I will come more often now if you stay hidden. I'll try to bring more food, too." Compared to weaving sunlight, finding a way to see Mother more often seems easy.

Mother nods once. "Yes, Celisae, I promise." She motions to the water basin on the other side of the room. "Now why don't you collect some more water?"

Eyes seem to follow me into the forest. I feel exposed despite the crowds of trees. Anyone could lurk anywhere. A hunter from the tribe could even venture in this direction while tracking prey.

Someone may be tracking me, too.

Hurriedly, I dunk the water basin in the river. I should figure out a way to get a second one. Perhaps I could weave an extra robe and secretly trade it with the other tribes. But that would require more late nights and early mornings.

I'm so trapped in my thoughts that I almost don't notice it. But a swirl in the rock catches in the corner of my eye. I take a quick glance over my shoulder, then freeze, facing it entirely.

Three symbols are carved into a rock jutting out of the river: earth, salt, thunder.

Geanna.