I could kick myself for not being more careful. I'd been so focused on following the light's glimmer that I hadn't considered what would lead me back to the stream. My ears crane for the sound of rushing water, but only rustling leaves rush in my ears. A breeze sweeps through the air, fingering my short hair and sending a chill down my spine. The night seems so much more oppressive now that I realize how lost I am.

Focus, Celisae. I can't just wallow in my predicament. I have to act. Slowly, I turn around, surveying the different routes away from the light. Each gap in the trees represents a different path to take. After a minute, I give up on figuring my way out through logic and just head in the direction I think I came from.

I meander around trees and bushes, though sometimes I walk into them. My feet snag on roots or low growing plants too dark to notice. Most of the time, I only stumble a few paces, quickly regaining my balance.

After several minutes, I hear a crackle behind me. My pace quickens, as does my pulse. Please, not another delay! A shuffling tears through the undergrowth, away from me. I exhale a sigh of relief, but I'm still on edge, listening for the slightest noise around me.

My foot catches on a particularly large root, one that causes my entire foot to slide beneath it so that my ankle touches wood. I fall forward, my wrists sinking into dirt and leaves to stop the motion before my face smacks the ground. Pain shoots through them. I twist onto my side, rubbing at the joints at the base of my hands. At least I didn't fall backward and smash my raeriel.

The initial pain wears away quickly. I test my wrists' injuries, letting them drop forward and backward. Only a tinge of soreness remains, but nothing that will impede my playing. My worry wears away, and I start back on the trail.

The change in the light is almost imperceptible at first. The sun awakens little by little, casting another spark of light on the ground each second. It's so gradual that I don't notice the night draining away the forest is painted in a light charcoal hue. The leaves hold more definition now as does the undergrowth.

Suns! It's almost dawn!

I force myself into a run, now that I can see better. Desperation wells inside me as I tear by tree after tree. The mountainside isn't in sight, no river in earshot.

I can't get lost out here. I have to be back before the tribe wakes up.

The longer I run, the more unlikely it seems that I'll find a way out. Though I can see more variation in vegetation, it's of no use to me. Tears prick my eyes, emotion choking my throat. I push even harder, channeling all my fears into the race against sunrise.

My lungs burn for air, but I can't stop. My limbs are in a constant, pumping motion, feet pummeling the ground one after another, arms propelling me forward.

Left-right, left-right, left-right.

If I slow myself even for a moment, I won't be able to continue. Running is the only thing gluing the splintering pieces of myself together. The moment I stop is the moment I'll fall apart.

Wind gushes in my ears, and my intense concentration on the forest landscape drowns out all other noises. I barely consider the animals that may stalk the forests, especially the ones that enjoy chasing their prey. After a while, though, when I can tangibly feel the darkness draining away, a new sound flows into my ears. Its fluidity slinks up to me like a cat on the prowl. Before I realize it, I'm dashing straight toward a creek rippling through the forest.

I pivot my direction so I run beside the water. Then, I start in the opposite direction from it, making a perpendicular line from it to where I entered the forest. In the distance, the trees open up to an open landscape. The first thin rays of dawn pierce the clearing. There's a chance I'll make it back before I'm missed.

I scramble to the edge of the cliff. Quickly, I scan the mountain path for any guards on the prowl. I spot two on guard further down from my cave by the fractured cliff. Their backs are to my cave. The other guards stand on an elevated part of the path. A curve obscures their view of my cave.

Without a moment's hesitation, I place my hands on the cliff's edge and start climbing down. My hands and feet step and reach with practiced precision. I know each notch and bump like the fingerboard on my raeriel. In my haste, though, a few pebbles shower onto the ground, clinking against rock. I grimace each time it happens, peering over my shoulders to see if anyone is looking in my direction.

Every few spaces I climb down, I gauge the remaining distance. Soon, the bottom is only a few feet away. I release my hands from the cliff and jump the rest of the way down, landing in a crouch to absorb the force. I half-run half-stumble inside my cave. My arms fly out of the arm holes of my bag, and I fling the wooden chest open, dropping my raeriel under the first blanket inside. I duck under the covers on my bed and roll over, eyes closed.

I try to take deep, steadying breaths. My chest heaves up and down, a tell-tale sign that I haven't been in blissful sleep. Blood pulses in my temples. Adrenaline lingers in my veins, my body refusing to relax after the intensity of the morning.

Slowly, my body decelerates. My heart doesn't pump quite so hard against my ribcage. I take one more deep inhale for three counts, exhaling for six. My thoughts finally catch up to me, trickling back into my mind after being suppressed. I circle back to my raeriel. It sits at the top of the wooden box. All it takes is for one person to come along and shuffle the blankets around a bit for my secret to be revealed.

I should've hid it better. I had time. No one's around right now.

I'm seized by the urge to fix it. Yet fear holds me down on my bed. What if someone just happens to walk by the moment I fix it?

Several seconds tick by.

No one is around. Fix it now while you have the chance.

I still don't get up. It's like there's a disconnect between the resolution my mind has made up and my limbs.

Another moment passes. I roll over, gaze fixating on the wooden box.

Just get up.

I'm about to move when a shadow appears on the ground outside my cave, approaching the entrance. I close my eyes, my fingers tightening around my blanket in a facade of being asleep.

Internally, I scream at myself for not acting while the coast was clear. Dumb, dumb, and dumb!

A hand grasps my shoulder. My eyes jolt open to stare into the large brown eyes of a boy.

Not just any boy. Ixek, the grandson of Nal m'se, crouches beside me. He removes his hand from his shoulder and brings a finger to his lips. If he wanted me to keep quiet, he might've considered a different entrance, one that had a lesser chance of making a person scream.

I have to force myself to not glance at the wooden trunk in my room. He's not going to look inside it. That's ridiculous and inappropriate. Still, I can't help the tension spreading through me. I hope he leaves quickly before anyone stumbles upon the raeriel.

"I bring word from Nal m'se," he whispers. I nod slightly, pushing myself to sit up. He leans back so his face isn't so close to mine. He reaches into the rabbit-fur belt around his tunic and removes a scrap of cloth. "This is what you must create a parcel for."

He hands the fabric to me. It's nothing special in my palms, simply a white cotton square that's been folded in four. I finger the corner, considering what could possibly be so special about it.

"Don't open it," Ixek says.

My fingers freeze. "Sorry," I mumble. "I wasn't going to."

"Just a reminder." Ixek scratches at the side of his long head, eyes staring in the distance as he lingers. "You know what you're supposed to do with it?"

"Return it to you?"

Ixek nods slowly. "Yes. But only when I come fetch it. How soon can it be ready?"

I hesitate. I still don't have any sunlight. My eyes stay unusually trained on his to ensure I don't glance at where my raeriel is stashed.

It'll take at least another day to get a hold of it. Then I must make thread from the strands I collect, then weave those strands into the parcel. Jeayma m'ke already told me that there's a new order of robes to work on, which will take up much of my time during the coming days. And then there's the sunlight cloak I must weave, too, and I have to see Mother...

So much to do, never enough time to do it.

The longer I stall, the more Ixek's brow creases. He must think I'm tongue tied or something, being the tribe's outcast. I must not talk to many people, especially people my age, especially boys. Actually, he'd be right about all three.

Finally, I force myself to break the weird silence. "I... was under the impression that my deadline would be given to me." Hopefully, he'll interpret my hesitation to be caused by confusion.

"How about two days?" he asks. "It's a pretty small parcel."

"That sounds... fair."

Unless you have a million other tasks to do.

Ixek gives a swift nod. "Good. I'll return then." He stands, pausing a moment as he glances around. I hold my breath without thinking.

Don't look at the box. Don't draw his attention there.

After a second, Ixek leaves, and I let all the air in my lungs out in a long, sluggish exhale. I slip out of bed, crossing the room in a few quick steps. I tuck my raeriel underneath the blankets and coats so that it touches the bottom of the wood. At the top of the chest, I place the white cloth Ixek gave me. Then, I creep back to bed.

Thank the skies I returned when I did. Otherwise, the head matriarch would've heard first hand from her grandson that I was missing.