I leave my cave in a daze the next morning. I've learned how to push past the fatigue, how to survive on just a few measly hours of rest. But I still long to stay in bed, both to catch up on sleep and to hide from the tribe. I can't stand that they aren't seeing me at my best right now. I feel like I'm not a functioning member of the tribe, unable to contribute as much as I should.

The sunlight pushes my eyes into a squint. People bustle along the mountain path in contrast to me and my slow descent. The fractured cliff is even more of a buzz. Weavers set up looms for the day, seamstresses prepare their needles, and various other crafts people set up their work stations. With our tribe's meeting looming, there's more push to finish quotas, even go above and beyond in hopes that we'll be able to trade for more goods.

I eat a quick first meal, stashing some of the fruit away from Mother. I've been making a habit of visiting her, just to stifle any ideas of sneaking out from entering her head again. Afterward, I grab a loom from the growing collection outside the supply cave. Though my fingers are likely to be sluggish, I hope to finish the rest of my fabric quota today.

Halfway across the clearing, Jeayma m'ke rushes up to me. "Oh, Celisae, would you mind collecting more flowers today?" she pants. "We really need to replenish our stocks. Perhaps if you try a different part of the forest today, you can find more flowers. Our other gatherers found lots where they went."

Her words pick at a closed, invisible wound, leading fresh guilt to ooze out. I dip my head, my eyes suddenly favoring the ground.

"Yes, Jeayma m'ke." A thought crosses my head. Jeayma m'ke nearly disappears, but I stop her with a sudden, "wait!" Jeayma m'ke startles, turning back to me. Heat burns in my cheeks. "Uh, could I take my second meal with me? Then I can focus on gathering the flowers and not worry about getting hungry."

The stress tightening Jeayma's face relaxes. "Good idea. In fact, I should suggest that to the other weavers gathering flowers. Thank you, Celisae."

My face grows hotter, but from the praise this time. I dip my head, and Jeayma disappears into the crowd so I don't have to reply. I return my loom, then push my way to the cooks. There's plenty of food to spare set out on the buffet. I wish I could take the leftovers to Mother, but I don't have a viable excuse to score two first meals.

"What do you need, dear?" an elderly cook asks me as I approach.

"I, uh, was just heading out to scavenge for flowers," I stutter. "Jeayma m'ke said I could pack my second meal."

"Of course. Hold on one minute." The stout woman ambles away, her gray hair swinging in a braid down her back. I stand awkwardly by the food tables, trying to stay out of the way of passing tribe members.

More than a minute passes. As I glance around, feeling more and more conspicuous, I catch the gaze of Ulane m'ke on me. She wears a tart expression, a barely contained glare. My eyes quickly divert to the ground. The tall, thin woman walks toward me from the other end of the food table anyway.

"What do you need?" Each word is pointed, purposeful.

"I'm just waiting for my second meal."

Ulane m'ke narrows her normally wide eyes further into brown half-moons. "And why do you want it early?"

"I-I'm scavenging for flowers... dyes. Flower dyes. Jeayma m'ke said I could bring food... in case I get hungry. Then I can collect more. Flowers." My shoulders curve inward, instinctively trying to curl in on themselves.

"Hmm." Ulane m'ke presses her lips together. She walks away without further comment, and my lungs cave inward. Something about her always makes me nervous. She never seemed to care for me, especially after Mother was exiled.

"Here you are." The elderly woman from before returns, a small basket in hand. "It has fruit, cold shrubs, and some cured meat. It's a shame you can't have the stew today. I tasted it, and it's quite delicious."

A faint smile edges my lips. Mother probably would disagree. Of course, I don't say that aloud.

"This will be fine. Thank you."

"Any time." The elderly woman waves, and I slip into the crowd. I glance around once I'm buried amongst the others. The cooks are out of sight, and I don't see Jeayma m'ke, either. I head up the mountain path. Only a few stragglers traverse it now.

I slip into my cave. When no one's passing by, I slip my raeriel onto my back and my robe overtop. Then, I return to the fractured cliff, my gathering bag over one arm and the food basket over the other. No one can tell that treachery weaves between them, headed for the forest. Still, I stiffen anytime a person bumps into me. I can barely breathe until the trees shroud me from view.

My first stop this morning is Mother's cave. Along the way, I grab flowers at random. I don't want a patchy trail to lead straight to my greatest secret.

"I brought extra food today," I say as I enter Mother's alcove. As usual, Mother slumps against the rocky walls. Her brows crinkle at my voice.

"You're here early," she comments.

"I'm on gathering duty," I say by way of explanation. I set the second meal basket beside her. "You can get started while I fetch water."

Mother peers inside the basket. Between two fingers, she pinches a shriveled piece of deer meat. "I do hope they've learned to make it more tender."

I get the answer to her unasked question when I return with fresh water in tow. Her jaw grinds whatever morsel she popped in her mouth.

"Still tough as ever," Mother states. "My teeth really aren't strong enough for this. They ought to stop making this stuff. It probably weakens our teeth and muscles."

I rest beside her, grateful to let the ground take my body weight for a bit. "It helps preserve the extra game we collect in the summer. We need it for winter rations."

"Then save it for the winter," Mother grumbles. "Eat the fresh stuff when you still can."

I shake my head, taking a cured chunk for myself. I try to refrain from eating too much, though, since I need to save whatever remains for closer to noon.

"It's the same spice blend, too." Mother swallows the meat she'd been chewing. "I'll let you have the rest of that, Celisae. That is, if you can get your teeth through it without breaking them."

Mother shovels a handful of berries into her mouth. A little juice dribbles down her chin as she chews them. I can hear them squishing in the ensuing silence.

"Anything new?" she asks. Her narrowed eyes appraise me from head to toe.

"No." Except a cloak of moonlight.

"Those matriarchs had better not be overworking you." She swallows only to stuff her face again. Over the fruit, I make out the words, "they shouldn't be taking advantage of your skills."

"I like weaving fabrics."

"Sure, and that's why you're always so tired these days." Mother rolls a blueberry between her fingers. She pops it in her mouth after a moment. Before I can react, she grabs my hands, turning them over. My palms are raw and chapped from handling the cold moonlight. Mother makes a tsking sound. "Celisae, this is unacceptable. You've worked your hands to the breaking point, and what has the tribe given you in return?"

Everything. I pull back from my mother's touch, wrapping my hands around my knees.

"I'm perfectly fine."

"Is this why you don't like playing the raeriel?" Mother asks. "Of course, this challenging work takes you away from music." My mother chews another berry thoughtfully. "Then again, I'm sure the laivo isn't doing you any favors. You've been playing it, haven't you?" In a swift motion, she pries my hand back. "Ah, yes. I can see the impressions the laivo strings have left on your finger pads."

"I've been playing the raeriel, too." I feel an urge to justify myself. If only I could tell her about the cloaks I've been weaving for her. Then she'd know that it isn't the tribe doing this to me.

"Really?" Mother leans against the cave wall as she finishes the last berries in the basket. "What, does the tribe need extra fabric orders? Think they can make extra profit from your waterproof designs?"

I shrug my shoulders, trying to appear blase about the subject. "Just thought I'd try to practice my skills more often, that's all."

"Huh." Mother shakes her head, a smile crossing her lips. "Took you eleven years to get to this point. Why the change?"

"I don't know," I say, a little more snappish than I intend.

"Are you finding lots of light? It can be tricky."

"Yes, it can be."

A glint appears in Mother's eye. "Well, whenever you get stuck, never forget the stories."

"The... stories?" I angle myself more toward her.

"The legends that you've always heard, ever since you were a child. They'll guide the way." Mother reaches over and gives my hand a slight pat. Then she straightens, pushing the basket toward me. "I've had my fill. You can be off now. But be sure to get some proper sleep at some point."

"I will." The real question is when and for how long. With the basket over my arm, I head back into the forest.