A shout jolts my eyes open the next morning. Footsteps bustle across the floor; ceramics clank, and fabric rustles. My blurry vision focuses on Kletasuah as she hurriedly tosses jars and plants from her shelves into a bag.

"We have to go," Ixek hisses. He shoves the remaining blanket on the cot into a bag almost his height, though much plumper in width.

"What's going on?" I mumble.

"Shh," Kletasuah says. "It's the Anderwres."

I stiffen. "They've come?"

"We need to move you somewhere safer." His eyes stray to Kletasuah. "Both of you."

"Just let me grab a few more," Kletasuah says. "They could come in handy if there's a battle. Besides, the Anderwres may destroy anything they find here."

"Including us," Ixek mutters. He hurries to my side and helps unwrap me from the bundles of blankets constraining my body. The cold penetrates me instantly, and I shiver. "Can you stand?"

"Of course she can't stand," Kletasuah whispers hoarsely over her shoulder.

Ixek exhales, then encases me in two, less bulky blankets. A little more heat surrounds me, but the damage is already done. An uncomfortable chill lingers in my bones. These probably aren't sunlight blankets.

"This will have to do," Ixek says, swinging a rucksack onto his back. "Place your arms around me." I do so, clasping both hands on his shoulder. He picks me up with a grunt. In the distance, I can hear the clash of rocks and wood, the shout of warriors. It seems to be drawing closer. "Kletasuah, we're leaving now. It's better if we stay together."

"Just one more herb." Kletasuah moves from one shelving unit to the next, searching row upon row.

"Not one more herb. Now."

A scream pierces the air.

"Kletasuah!"

"But the Angelmint!"

"Leave it!"

A pot topples to the ground. Shards of pottery fly across Kletasuah's feet. At least thick furs cover her bare skin. Ixek marches across the room and swings me back and forth so my feet nudge her.

"Alright, alright," Kletasuah says. She bends down, grabs a fistful of tiny, rounded leaves, and shoves them in her bag as she follows us to the cave's mouth. Ixek pokes his head out, and by default, mine as well. The mountain path is vacant — for now.

"Blankets?" Ixek whispers. Kletasuah nods, pointing to the fluff bag she now has slung over her shoulder. Ixek dashes down the mountainside, Kletasuah by his side. Battle sounds trail at our heels, exclamations and grunts, whooshing arrows and clashing staffs. Strangest of all is a sizzling sound carried on the wind, along with a burnt stench that makes me gag.

"What is that?" I hear Kletasuah mutter.

Ixek inhales strong, steady breaths as he runs, fogging the air above me. Adrenaline pulses through my veins, even though I'm barely moving. The Anderwres are getting closer, the clash growing louder, the awful burning scent more pungent. Ixek jumps over a rock, and the landing rattles me. I clench my teeth so they don't clatter, giving us away.

We reach the clearing, bobbing around various rocks. It feels wrong to see it bathed in the pale, orangey light, yet be completely empty. My grip tightens around Ixek. We're almost to the edge of the mountainside. Ten steps, and we'll be on the path down. Five, four, three, two...

"Gotcha!"

I scream as a man leaps over the cliff, landing in our path. He wields a wooden staff with a stone at the top, whittled into a point. Ixek scrambles backward, tripping over his feet. I fall to the ground, but Kletasuah grabs me before I make impact.

"Seems I've found the best crop." The Anderwres warrior's lips pull back in a four-toothed snarl. "It's the Head Matriarch's grandson."

Ixek grabs a staff from his bag. An equally deadly point gleams at the end of it.

"The best crop puts up the best fight." Ixek hurls himself at the warrior. He smacks the Anderwres' animal-skin covered chest, sending him to the ground. The warrior swings his staff around at Ixek's feet, but Ixek dances over it, swinging another blow at the warrior's face. Wood smacks together as the warrior blocks. He leaps to his feet while Ixek twists his weapon away.

Ixek angles a blow at the warrior's side, but the burly man darts away. Ixek stumbles forward, and the Anderwres lands a strike on his back. A cry of pain escapes him, but he whirls around, smacking the Anderwres in the leg. As the warrior hobbles backward, Ixek raises his staff and crashes it down on his large, bald head. There's a loud crack, and the warrior crumples to the ground.

"Let's go," Ixek whispers.

But it's too late. Already, warriors in similar animal skins stream up the path, in duels with our tribe who wears thicker furs. A few Anderwres break away from the battle, racing straight for us. Ixek picks me up again and dashes down the mountainside. My arm rests over his heart, which beats wildly in his chest. Mine matches the drumbeat in a similar frenzy. Strong breaths flow in and out of my lungs.

We're going to make it. We have to. I glance over at Kletasuah, keeping pace with us. I don't know how she manages to juggle so many cumbersome bags between her back and arms.

"Not go to tribe," Ixek pants. "There are caves to hide in." Kletasuah nods.

Ixek jumps over boulders and shrubs. His feet are lightning fast over the snowy terrain. Over my shoulder, I spy Anderwres at the edge of the fractured cliff. Some stream down the mountain after us, while others just watch from above.

An arrow whizzes by, inches from my face. Ixek leaps behind a shrub as another shoots overhead.

"Drop the girl!" a voice booms.

"Never!" Kletasuah yells. A chorus of arrows fly past. Ixek and Kletasuah put their arms over my head to shield me.

"Deliver the girl, the weaver, and we'll let you two go free."

"No!" Ixek cries. Wood grazes his ear. Blood bubbles to the surface of his dark skin, trickling onto his neck.

"Ixek!" I exclaim. "Let them have me. I'm not worth your lives."

"Yes, you are, Celisae," Kletasuah says.

"You're hurt, Ixek," I say, hoping to somehow break through his warrior's resolve, appeal to even the slightest tinge of pain he might feel right now. "Please, if it's me they want, just leave me behind."

Leave me to the Earthwatcher. It's the fate I deserve after all I've done. We wouldn't be in this mess — they wouldn't have the upper hand — if it hadn't been for me.

Ixek doesn't respond to my plea. He sets his jaw, and his eyes flick across the mountain. The Anderwres sneak forward, getting closer and closer.

"We need to make a run for it," he whispers. "Ready? One, two..." Ixek hoists me into his arms, tearing down the mountain. He aims for the barren bushes and trees to get at least a little cover. Another entourage of points fly by. One hits its mark in Kletasuah's hand. She cries out, but quickly clamps her mouth shut. A second arrow buries itself in Ixek's calf. I can hear his teeth grinding in my ear. But we don't stop.

Ixek ducks behind a tree into a ditch, panting so hard, it sounds like his lungs will burst. Kletasuah soars over the edge a moment later.

"We're... we're not—"

Ixek clamps his hand over Kletasuah's mouth. With the other, he raises a finger to his lips. Footsteps trample through the snow above.

Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch. Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch.

I swallow against a parched throat. The snow is looking good right now, cool and watery. Maybe it will also settle the acid inching up my throat. Then again, who knows what sorts of creatures might've scuttled over it? I resist the urge to pop a fistful in my mouth.

The crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch grows louder. Indistinct shouts echo across the rocks. I squeeze my eyes shut, but open them again quickly. I can't check out now. The fight isn't over.

A thump sounds in my ear. My gaze whips upward to the Anderwres standing over us, smiling a toothless grin. Before I can react, hands clamp around my arm, yanking me upward. I shriek as my blankets fall away and the cold seizes me. Ixek crawls from the ditch after me, but the Anderwres smacks his hands with a staff. Bones crunch. Ixek drops his hold, falling backward.

"We've got her!" the Anderwres shouts. A single, large hand shackles both my wrists together. He races up the mountainside. My feet trip over each other, attached to legs of soup. I smack the ground, and the warrior pulls me upward. The warrior glares down at me. "On your feet, weaver."

"I can't," I choke out. Something wet streams down my cheeks, either tears or blood. Pain racks my entire body. My lungs can barely get enough air.

The Anderwres drags me along for a minute before he huffs and slings me over his shoulder. I cough through my hyperventilating breaths.

It's going to be alright. It's going to be alright. I play this mantra in my head. Maybe one of the warriors can save me.

My heart plummets when we reach the top of the clearing. I have to suppress a gasp at the number of bodies strewn across the ground — frozen and charred bodies, I might specify. Some have mottled, blistering skin, seared and oozing; others are frosted, blue blocks. Fractured limbs scatter around them, also encased in ice. And the Anderwres, hundreds of them surround me, completely unharmed.

How? It doesn't make sense. Only their torn animal skin clothes display any sign of a struggle.

"It's time for phase two," a lilting, female voice says. "The rest of the tribe is down the mountain. We'll finish this once and for all."

The warriors grunt in acquiescence. As one unit, they trample down the mountain, leaving a handful behind. A woman with a slightly wrinkled face stands amidst the destruction, donning a cloak as bright and golden as the sun.

The sunlight cloak. The Earthwatcher.

Her brown eyes land on me, and a tiny gasp escapes my lungs. I know that face; I saw it at the tribal summit. It's Abarra, co-leader of the Erdest tribe.

"Surprise!" she exclaims in her honeyed voice. "So we meet face-to-face at last."

I can barely keep my jaw from hanging open. All this time, this was the person behind the cloaks, the person underneath the black mask and garb.

"Congratulations, Celisae," Abarra says, stepping closer. Her cloak ripples around her like a glittering, golden sea. "You're one of the lucky Nuotomins who will meet the new ruler of the mountains."

"B-but... desert." My brain draws a blank. It just isn't making sense.

"Let me tell you a little tale." Abarra stands right in front of me now. Before I can process what's happening, her hand flies out from beneath the sunlight fabric. A wooden staff strikes my back, and I fall, my knees hitting stone.

I stare up at the woman, whose face is as impassive of the mask she used to wear. Her hand curls around the stick, or rather, a scepter with a rounded top that tapers toward the ground.

"Once upon a time, there were two sisters in the mountains. They lived in a tribe and grew up to be weavers. Then one day, they realized that all their skills were being used, exploited. They were mere tools to serve the whims of the Matriarchs serving over them. The sisters didn't want to be weavers, forced to work day in and day out until their fingers were stiff. What did they gain? Everything either went to the tribe or to trade with other tribes. The sisters wanted for their daily efforts to not be in vain. What could show for all their efforts?" Abarra's eyes narrow. Another blow sends pain shuddering through my bones. "Well? What can show for their efforts?"

"I-I don't know," I say. Tears blur my vision once more. My head spins, and I feel like I'm going to be sick.

"Power," Abarra says. "Power could definitely show for all they'd been through. The tribe owed them after taking so many robes and cloaks away from them. It was time for the Matriarchs to work, for the sisters to reign. But how could they do this? Huh?"

"I don't know." Abarra raises her scepter again, and I cower, tucking my head beneath my hands. I wait a moment, but the blow never comes.

"It turns out that both sisters had special skills." I allow myself to peek up at Abarra. Her scepter is on the ground once more. Relief swells inside me, though I can't totally relax yet. "Skills passed down from generation to generation. Their family knew the forgotten art of manipulating nature with music. The power is unleashed through playing special songs. The songs I learned on the wialda allow me to manipulate butterflies."

Abarra paces a few steps back and forth. Stillness settles over the clearing, and I become acutely aware of the wind biting my nose and whipping my hair across my face.

"You're familiar with my sister's instrument," Abarra says at last. "It's the raeriel. It enables one to weave light beams, so precious and rare, into garments." Abarra's hand runs over her cloak. "When combined, the light gives each garment a special property. Mine can shoot flames. Baiac's can freeze people."

She motions to a burly Anderwres on the other side of the clearing. He has black hair that sticks straight into the air and is wrapped in silver.

"He's the last equation in this equation. You see, our first attempt to overthrow the tribe failed. But we were not to be deterred. We simply regrouped. I joined a new tribe; my sister faded from existence. On our second try, we realized that we needed reinforcements, whether we had the robes or not. Besides, it doesn't hurt to have more subjects to rule." One of her brown eyes winks at me. "So we recruited the Anderwres this time to assist us in our ambitions."

Abarra pauses. Her piercing gaze fixates on me, unwavering. I'm almost glad she covered her face during all those meetings.

Confusion clouds my brain. But if you know the art of musical weaving, then why did you need me?

The question doesn't make it past my lips. Instead, I ask, "why are you telling me all of this?"

"To give you a choice."

The voice cuts through the fog in my mind. I whirl around, shocked at the woman who stands at the bottom of the mountain path. Swirls of pink, blue, and purple shroud her slender body, though she's not as stick-thin as the last time I saw her. How long ago was that? My brain can't even keep track of the days.

My mother approaches me with slow, calculated strides. She looks different than normal, perhaps more confident. My gaze settles on my hands, and with a jolt, I realize that they're no longer gnarled and crooked. She stops in front of me, and I stare up at her expressionless face.

"It's been a few moons, hasn't it, Celisae?" she says.