Every Glistening Night

Chapter Twelve

A few people bustle about the clearing when I return. Most put away anything remaining from the day, wild game, baskets, looms, stone bowls, though a few kids race about, enjoying their free time to its fullest before bed.

Sweat beads on my lip, trickles down my back, and mats strands of hair to my face. Extra heat radiates from the extra sunlight, no longer contained by the simmenberry wood. My cloak magnifies it by trapping the heat.

My fingers twitch at my sides. I try to relax my face, hide the anxiety sparking inside me. It's murky outside right now, and I hope that makes me less noticeable, obscures how sweaty I look.

I especially keep my eyes peeled for Audrel. I'm certain that if she spots me, she'll force me to remove my cloak to prevent heatstroke.

As if my thoughts summoned her, I spot her slender frame on the other side of the clearing, speaking with Ulane m'ke. Her laughter rings all the way to my ears. Ulane m'ke smiles, a sight I'm not usually graced with. The women turn, walking in my direction toward a stone table remaining in the center of the fractured cliff. They aren't looking at me as they converse, but one stray glance could be my demise.

Two boys walk across the clearing, bows slung over their shoulders. I fall into step beside them, hoping that their sturdy frames will hide me. I have to stretch my strides extra far to keep up.

Several tense steps later, I'm out of the clearing. I heave a sigh of relief, and the teens' heads whip in my direction. Their brows furrow slightly, though I think it's out of disgust, not confusion. I must've really looked a mess.

"Sorry," I mumble. I dart up the mountain path before embarrassment fuels the blaze in my cheeks.

A hint of a smell wafts up to my nose, something acrid and burning. I slip behind the changing curtain in my cave to remove my outer cloak and bag. The smell grows stronger with this motion, and when I open my bag out of curiosity, a hair of smoke rises into the air.

The sunlight, clustered inside one pouch, charred the fibers in my bag. Panic surges through me. I poke my head from behind the curtain. Seeing no one around, I race to the wooden chest, tuck my raeriel at the bottom, then return to the smoldering bag. I guess I have to separate each strand out more. When collected together, the light radiates too much heat, feeding off the energy from the other strands.

I portion the light into every pouch inside my bag, six in total. I place it at the bottom of the chest as well, whereas the robe I wore today goes at the top.

Exhausted, I plop onto my bed. This day has been far too long, from dawn to dusk. My legs seem to burrow under the covers of their own volition, my head resting against the pillow without thinking. Soon, the thoughts in my mind still.

***

Yellow breaks through the darkness behind my closed eyes. I crack each one open to orange and pink-tinged clouds. Physically, I wish I could melt back into slumber, but there's an important task I must complete today.

I have to find ika silk. No negotiations, no way around it. What's more, I have to weave it into gloves and a heat proof sleeve as quickly as possible.

The more I think about it as I'm getting ready — dressing in my day clothes and grabbing my gathering bag — the more I realize that I probably will need to sew ika silk into the lining of the sunlight cloak. Otherwise, the person wearing it will get burned.

Is this sunlight cloak going to be worn? It seems like a logical enough assumption. But the hooded figure wasn't that specific with her order. I don't actually know why I'm making it.