The never-ending frost is getting old. A fresh blanket of snowflakes flutters down from the sky, landing on my bare neck and in my hair. At least when it snows in the mountains, I can retire to my mostly dry cave at night. Out here in the forests, there's no escape from the perpetual chill and the frozen ground.

The cooks pass out our second meal. I wait at the back of the line, wishing that we could have something hot to eat.

You'll be home soon, I remind myself. The mountain's base is only a little further, and then we only need to trek up the winding path to reach camp.

Soon, I'm at the front of the line. A man with white hair and a long, thin beard to match stands directly before. He must be in good shape, despite his age, to be able to make the journey out here. He reaches into a basket on his arm and hands me a plump roll. It's cold, and the blond surface is wrinkled. They must've baked these three days ago while we were still at camp.

Another hand thrusts an apple toward me. I take it, briefly meeting the eyes of Ulane m'ke. I duck away quickly, biting into the crisp fruit. Ulane m'ke may be nicer to be than she has been in the past eleven years, but I'm still wary that she'll snap at me or show another form of displeasure at my presence.

The apple tastes like it's semi-frozen. It hurts my teeth and numbs my mouth. I savor it for the entire mealtime, not just because of the temperature but because I'm going to save the stew-filled bun for Mother. I need to visit her when we return to camp.

The remaining journey exhausts me. Strength ebbs from my body, and I long for the food weighing down my pocket. As soon as we return to camp and finish putting away the leftover unsold goods, I slip away into the forest.

A snowy hedge blocks the entrance to Mother's cave. Thick piles assemble on the barren branches except in one part where the snow is a gentler coating. I pause outside Mother's cave, staring at it. After several moments, I figure out what's bothering me. It looks like the snow has been disturbed, like someone has pushed past the barrier and knocked the snow to the ground. I can even see extra clumps on the ground surrounding the area.

Fear clutches at my chest, and I tear through the barrier. Did someone find Mother? Is she gone?

Mother leans against the back wall of the cave. Her expression is blank as ever.

"Oh my," I breathe, panting. My heart is racing a hundred beats a minute. "You're here."

"Did you think I died?" she asks, sounding bored.

"I thought that someone found you," I say. "The snow... it looks like it's been disturbed outside."

"I'm still here."

"Yes, I can see that. But..." I turn around, squinting at the snowy branches peeking inside the cave.

"Maybe it was an animal," Mother says. "I think I heard one a few days ago."

Slowly, I nod. "Yes. Yes, you're probably right." I face Mother, trying to tamp down the niggling feeling inside me. It was just an animal, only an animal. Nothing more.

"The river is frozen." My head ticks in surprise, and Mother quickly says, "you know, from the frost. It's so cold that it must be solid enough to skate on."

I nod. "Right." That makes sense. It makes sense how she came to that conclusion. Surely she wouldn't have left her cave to check. No, that doesn't make sense at all. It's a logical conclusion to assume that when it snows, especially for many days in a row, the river will freeze over.

My gaze shifts to the basin beside my mother. It's about a quarter full, though a thin sheet of ice appears to cover the top.

"I'll try to bring some water later," I say, thinking out loud. "Maybe I can get a hold of extra water pouches to bring you."

"Hardly any liquid fits in one of those tiny things," Mother scoffs. "You'd have to bring quite a lot."

"You've been making do with the amount of water I last gave you. There's still some left after three days."

Mother holds my gaze for a beat, two beats. "Well, I'd prefer to not thirst all winter long."

"I already said that I'd see what I can do." Irritation pricks at my skin. What more does she want from me? I thought it was understood that I can't guarantee a cushioned life for her, but perhaps she's grown accustomed to more frequent, doting visits. Perhaps she's forgotten how things used to be, how things may go back to being, especially with rising responsibilities in the tribe.

I shove thoughts of that aside. I can't sort through those eventualities now. Balancing my mother and the tribe is delicate and the future of that balance can't be predicted.

"This was from the journey home," I say. I supply Mother with the stew-filled bun. She presses on it, watching the soft dough spring back at her, before taking a bite. Her face twists with disgust, and she chokes down the bite.

"Congealed stew is terrible," she coughs.

A frown twitches at my face. "If you don't want it, I'll have it."

Mother takes another bite. She chews, shakes her head, chews some more, parts her mouth, closes it and chews, swallows. "As they say, when you're hungry, you'll eat a rabid lofaw."

My stomach gurgles and churns, feeling exceptionally empty. Is it my imagination, or does my mother slow down her eating, hacking at the bun in more languid strokes, drawing out her meal while I helplessly watch? I can feel each bite as if in slow motion, each up and down chomp of her teeth. Forever passes before only a morsel remains. It disappears inside her mouth, too.

"So you'll return later?" she asks, lazily wiping her mouth. "With the water?"

I glance at the basin, at the quarter-full water level. "I think you can last tonight without me." Mother's eyes widen, not in surprise, but more in challenge. "I'll return tomorrow with your meal."

"Hmm." Mother brushes a few crumbs from her lap. "So that's how it will be, Celisae?"

I swallow, my mouth drying. "Like I said before, I'll see what I can do."

***

Darkness closes around my cave, like it's trying to suffocate me into sleep. I force a tiny, nagging part of my brain to remain alert until it's safe to leave. Once it has been a while since a person passed by the cave, I crawl from my cot. I hobble outside, hunched over. My hands settle just above my knees, holding me semi-upright. It's like my body is rebelling against being awake.

My eyes drag along the cliff — up, up, up to the very top. I slap a hand onto the nearest rock, gripping it with surprising strength. Sheer willpower pulls me to the top. I'm lucky my brain is more alert than the rest of my limbs. My feet slip against the rock. Snow and fur aren't the ideal combination for climbing, and I find myself pawing at the steps to keep my grip. The cold burns my fingers as they bury in the snow to reach the rock underneath. My breathing turns ragged, cold sweat beading on my neck, matting baby hairs to my skin. I feel my legs dangling in the air, a dead weight ready to sink me. I don't let it drag me back to the tribe.

At last, my hands land in frosted grass. One hand, then two, pulls me up, then my elbows dig into solid ground. I inch my way into the clearing a burst of strength at a time. My knees make contact with the ground, and I roll onto my stomach with my face angled upward, staring at the twinkling sky through cracked eyes.

I breathe. Inhale, exhale. Cool air fills my lungs, and strength trickles back into my veins until I have the will to move again. I made it this far, might as well make use of the night. I push myself to my feet and stumble to the path winding higher into the mountains.

Every second counts. I don't know how far I must go to find the elusive starlight. My feet move a little quicker on instinct. From my bag, I grab a handful of pebbles to drop along the path, just to make sure I can find my way back. I don't trust my instincts when I'm this tired. Actually, it's a good idea even if I'm not about to keel over.

The path spirals and forks, twists and drops, turns me around until I wonder if I can even make it back to the tribe, notwithstanding the pebbles. I have no way of telling how much time has passed, either. I'm terrified that I'll stay out too late, not return by morning. What will they think if they find me gone? I shove those types of thoughts aside. They'll only distract me.

The side of the mountain comes into view, and the stable ground I'm on narrows into a ledge ascending alongside the cliff to my right. On my left, all I can see is a dark, descending abyss. Steeling myself, I transfer the bag on my back to my front and step onto the ledge, leaning against the mountain. I shuffle along the rock, right foot before left. My furry boots protect my bare skin from crags and jagged edges, or whatever else might dig into my feet. But my toes hang over the cliff's edge, and a tingling sensation forms a constant reminder of the precarious situation I'm in.

My foot slips for an instant, and a pebble skitters into the darkness. I plant my foot more firmly in the previous place, fighting the exhaustion threatening to crumple my body into a ball. Keep going. You're almost there. I continue up the winding cliff, mini step after mini step. Other pebbles ping against the cliffside, though I can't tell if they're coming from me or from somewhere else. I don't look back, I don't look down, just press onward and upward.

Nausea churns in my stomach from the swirling incline, but finally, the top looms in my peripheral. I grit my teeth, holding on just a little longer. I focus on my breaths and count the paces remaining.

One, two, three, four.

My palms are slick against the rock, and my legs feel like they're going to give out.

Eleven... twelve.

I swallow, though nothing slips down my parched throat.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...

My foot lands on solid ground. Carefully, I slide my back against the mountain, then collapse on the ground. My eyes drift closed, and I lean against the mountain. Fatigue crashes through me in waves. The soft snow beneath me is almost soothing. I think I'm numb to its sting, and now, it carries the comfort of my cot. I could fall asleep right here, right now.

But I can't. I only have seven moons to find starlight and make the Earthwatcher's cloak. My body screams in protest as I force myself to my feet. I turn away from the cliff, heading toward a channel between two giant mountain peaks. Barren bushes stand frozen in the thick snow, which is three-quarters up my calves. Against the backdrop of night, a golden flicker winks in the distance. Despair threatens to engulf me right there and then, but I keep trudging on.

Maybe there'll be more than just sunlight here. Maybe there'll also be starlight.

I'm wrong. I find the barren bush, with golden rays hovering above the snow. All this effort, and there's only a few measly rays of sunlight to show for it.

Might as well collect it. It'll come in handy for upcoming weaving projects — such as the latest assignment due to the tribe's alliance. There's no reason to waste perfectly good sunlight.

My bag sags as I remove my raeriel, leaving it mostly empty. I've grown more comfortable with it over the past months, come to like the way it slots under my chin and smells of dark, earthy wood. Despite my fatigue, my fingers seem to move of their own volition, dancing up and down the instrument in the sun's lively jig. The stick of the bow presses and releases against the string, jumps into the air and lands in a torrent of bouncing notes. I choose a shorter song, and the sunlight quickly assembles into a spinning, golden ball.

The song echoes from the cliffs for several seconds before I place my instrument atop my bag. I reach for the simmenberry box, my gaze drifting into the night. My heart stutters to a halt. Fear swells in my chest, constricting my lungs so I feel like I can't breathe.

Sunlight casts long rays along the snowy path I followed, right onto the dim figure of Ixek. He doesn't move; in fact, it's as if he's turned into an iced statue. His jaw is hinged open, and shock paralyzes his features. I grapple for words, words that can explain the situation I'm in, words that will stop him from reporting me to Nal m'se. But what explanation can I give? That I'm being blackmailed because I kept my exiled mother alive all these years?

"That... was really good."

I almost don't hear his whisper, don't see that his jaw has begun to move again. But I slowly descend into reality and process what he said, only to be disoriented by a fresh wave of confusion. Was... was that a compliment?

"I-I'm sorry," I stammer.

"Why?" Ixek clears his throat. "It, uh, was good. That's a good thing."

"But—" I cut off. Does he not know that I just played a forbidden instrument, a raeriel?

"I know it's a raeriel," Ixek says after a moment, like he's read my mind. His brow furrows, head tilts to the side. "Did... did it just manipulate sunlight?"

I nod. Ixek doesn't speak for a long moment. He barely blinks at the mound of snow he's staring at.

"Why did you do that? You know, with the light." He sounds more curious than anything else, not judgemental or even hostile like I expected.

"I need to collect it." I hesitate, wondering if I should share more. He already knows enough. Might as well try to explain myself. "It's how I make waterproof clothing."

Ixek's eyes widen as the realization sinks in. "Oh."

Silence settles heavy over the canyon. I place the sunlight in the box, which stifles the golden glow. Darkness drops instantly on the snow.

"It isn't very safe with you being out at night," Ixek says. "You know, with the threat the Anderwres pose."

I hadn't even considered it before. My only concern has been collecting enough light for the dresses and the tribe.

"I don't have much of a choice," I say with a humorless chuckle.

"You didn't want to tell anyone?"

"I couldn't." There's a beat, then I say more softly, "it's forbidden."

Ixek's eyes roave the ground before landing on me. "It is, isn't it?"

I swallow. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest, counting the seconds to my doom, but I forge ahead. "Are you going to tell Nal m'se?"

He doesn't respond immediately. In the faint moonlight, his throat bobs, and he shifts on his feet. Finally, he faces me again, determination set in his gaze.

"How much more do you need to collect?"

"Couple nights worth for now."

Slowly, Ixek begins to nod. "You kept my secret all this time. I'll keep yours on one condition. You must let me accompany you while you're searching. It's not safe for you to be out alone."

"But what about your assignments?" I protest in spite of myself. "And your sleep? You have to be able to sleep."

"I don't have any assignments right now," Ixek says. "And you're in the same situation as me, sleep-wise. If you can survive on little sleep, than so can I."

My lips press together. I've been on my own for so long that the thought of having a companion is strange. "It won't be easy," I warn him. "I'm trying to find starlight right now, the hardest of all types of light to track down."

Ixek raises his eyebrows. "There are multiple types?"

"Sun, moon, and starlight."

Ixek waits a moment before a smile edges onto his face. "Whatever you need, Celisae. A favor for a favor. Just tell me how I can help find this elusive light."