The mulch pile reeks. I never considered how bad food scraps smell. Now, it's a daily scent I never look forward to. I'd peg it as number two on the list of worst tasks I've done over the past moons.

Burying the dead was the hardest by far. Every shriveled and blue face, every bloated and battered body, was a reminder of what I had done. Guilt grew unhindered in the beginning, like mushrooms after a rainstorm. But with each passing day, I reminded myself that Nal m'se is giving me a second chance. I have to take advantage of that opportunity, not dwell on past mistakes. The future is so bright, has so much potential. Memories of Geanna and the Eartwatcher will only weigh me down.

Snow crunches underfoot instead of the leaves usual to the previous seasons. I still remember the first time I saw that blue glow, the message floating in from above. But so much good has happened here, too. I remember gathering supplies among the other tribe members, trudging through the trees with Ixek in search of starlight, representing the other weavers at the tribal summit. The good salvages what the bad ravages.

The trees open to the fractured cliff. People weave and sew, tan hides, and complete other daily tasks. I start in the direction of my rock only to remember that it's no longer there. Somehow, it got moved during the Anderwres invasion. Among the women pressing winter berries into a pulp, later to be turned into jam, Audrel waves at me. A smile cracks the solemn expression frozen onto my face. I angle my nose down, sniffing to see if I smell noticeably of mulch. I don't, so I join them.

The women continue their chatter like I'm not even there, or perhaps more aptly, like I'm part of the group. Jeayma m'ke hasn't assigned me to any new weaving projects, so I help press some of the dark, reddish-purple berries with a stone.

I only squash a few berries into a paste before someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, surprised to see Ixek.

"Nal m'se wishes to see you," he says. He wears a pleasant expression today, not a smile — never a smile since Ulane m'ke was exiled from the tribe — but his eyes are no longer glazed with sorrow.

"Thank you." I head straight for the cave. Once, I envied Ixek for striding into the Matriarchs' presences without thinking much of it. But I've been around them so much and experienced their kindness and fairness that I no longer cower at the thought of them.

"Enter, Celesae," Nal m'se says when I pop my head into the inner chamber. I bow and rise as instructed. "Your moon cycle is nearly complete."

"Yes, Nal m'se."

"I think it's time we discuss your future role within the tribe. At the forefront, we must discuss the task we gave you at the tribal summit."

I completely forgot about the three sunlight robes the leaders asked me to make to symbolize their alliance. An initial wave of dread washes through me, but I quickly remind myself that it won't be as bad as last time. I won't have to stay up ridiculously late at night to finish my task, and I'll be completing it of my own volition... mostly. I mean, even if I am being commissioned, who'd willingly decline the opportunity?

"I can start on them whenever you wish," I say, dipping my head.

Nal m'se watches me for a moment. "Actually, the other Matriarchs and I had something else in mind. What if we used the three robes you made, the ones of sun, moon, and stars?"

My mind draws a blank. "I-I don't know. Sure, I'm sure that will be fine, if you wish to use them."

"We do not have another use for them at the moment, other than the starlight robe. Instead of destroying your work, these robes can be repurposed."

"That's great." I swallow, trying to get my thoughts in order.

"Does anything bother you about this arrangement."

"It's just... it's just that the robes are tied to a certain connotation. They were intended and used for a malevolent purpose."

The lips of Nal m'se edge upward. "That's an interesting aspect of life. Not every weapon has to be used as one, just like seemingly benign things can be used for harm. Fire keeps us warm, yet it can also devour. A pebble is harmless until someone cracks a tooth on it."

"I didn't even weave the starlight cloak. My mother did," I add, though I doubt it will change her opinion much. Perhaps I just feel the need to clarify, to not take credit for my mother's handiwork."

"But Ixek tells me that you collected the light yourself and spun it to thread. It wasn't all Geanna's doing."

I have no more arguments, nor do I wish to seem combative. And I must admit that it feels nice to not have to weave more cloaks of pure light beams. Nal m'se is right; this will turn something meant for harm into a symbol of tribal solidarity, something that will strengthen instead of destroy.

"Does this arrangement sit well with you now?" Nal m'se asks.

"Very much so."

"Good." Nal m'se folds her hands in her lap. "Now, we shall discuss your duties going forward. The matriarchs and I have decided to place you in charge of a special unit of weavers who will assist in making more of these sunlight cloaks. We may also have use for moonlight cloaks. In the summer, the desert tribes have to endure extreme daytime temperatures. They may be willing to trade for cloaks with cooling properties."

The thought never even crossed my mind. In fact, I'd never considered all the potential the sun, moon, and stars have. "What if we use the moonlight to help store food? We could keep meat fresher if we had a reliable way to store it frozen."

"Excellent idea. We can sew pouches to help freeze fresh food. In addition, we can also create pouches to keep food hot for our hunters and warriors while they're about the mountain during these cold months."

A whole world of possibilities opens before me. I can barely contain the excited thoughts buzzing inside my head. This could transform our tribe, perhaps even all three.

"I will handpick our most reliable weavers to learn how to interweave the light with the cloth," Nal m'se says. "Our production possibilities have been stunted in this area for too long."

My brow creases as a question dawns on me. "Why did you not ask me to teach other weavers my skill before?"

Nal m'se draws in a slow breath. "I always suspected you had your mother's talent, from the moment Jeayma m'ke realized your robes were warmer than the other weavers. I just wanted to see how it would play out, if you were on our side or wishing to avenge hers, though I doubted you would reveal your gift if you were truly planning a surprise attack. The task I gave you with the secret message parcels was a test in part. I wanted to gauge your willingness to help us, or if you would try to interfere with the messages. Every reply message we received seemed successful, though, and our spies were never discovered."

And here I thought I'd been successful in hiding what I was doing. I feel foolish now, thinking that I could ever outsmart Nal m'se and the matriarchs. But I'm also grateful that they gave me a chance despite all that they knew about my mother and woven sunlight.

"Shall I teach others the raeriel, too?" It certainly would speed up production when I'm not the only person out hunting for light.

"The Matriarchs and I deliberated over it, but we ultimately decided against it," Nal m'se says. "Not everyone will use that power responsibly. Perhaps one day you may choose an apprentice to teach, but for now, let's make you our official light collector."

I nod. Secretly, I'd be nervous to take on a student. Where would I even start? It's been so long since I've learned the raeriel that I'm concerned I could never express the beginning steps properly.

"One more thing," Nal m'se says, "unless these duties are sounding too great to manage."

"Not at all." The smile that spreads on my face confirms that I'm just happy to be needed, to fit a special spot within the tribe, just like the way I used to fit in the chair-shaped rock on the fractured cliff.

"It was actually Kletasuah's idea," Nal m'se says. "She said it would be beneficial if you could weave more starlight into healing wraps. Once we have enough for our tribe, we can even trade them to the other tribes."

"Of course." Out of all the types of light, I think starlight will be most beneficial. I only wish I had been brave enough to wield it sooner. Imagine how many lives could have been saved with it.

"How about we make that your first task?" Nal m'se says. "No more food waste and cleaning duties."

"I'm ending my punishment early?"

"I think you've learned what is necessary." A smile pulls at her wrinkled cheeks. "Over the next few days, focus on the starlight."

It hardly feels fair, but I'm overjoyed to not go near the mulch pile anymore. Honestly, I don't understand how there are tribe members who willingly take up that duty. I dip my head to the Head Matriarch.

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Celisae," Nal m'se replies with twinkling eyes. "You are now dismissed."