Every Glistening Night

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I ought to thank Kletasuah for making me rest, and for treating my hands. I fell asleep the moment I allowed myself to recline in my blankets. Still, I dragged my feet the entire next day, both from residual exhaustion (one quality night's rest doesn't make up for the deficit) and the knowledge that I missed out on the tribe's gathering. Based on the children's play acting during mealtimes, Ellna told the story of the Mountain Koros, ancient beasts that used to dwell in the mountain peaks.

My moping ends by nighttime, though, when I have enough capacity to stay up for the Earthwatcher. After the shuffling along the mountain path wanes, I sneak to the forest. Cloth bundles around me, and I take clumsy steps over fallen debris. I wore two robes today, my bag in between to place a barrier between the icy moonlight and my thinner tunic. Leaves crunch extra loudly underfoot. It sets me on edge. My heart lives in my throat as I anticipate someone jumping from the shadows, catching me in the act.

This time, I expect the faint blue light that emanates from the trees. It's as if the butterflies are a normal part of the forest, an element I'm drawn toward like fairygold flowers. The single, blue point starts to move in a concentric circle, then multiple circles. Individual wings flutter from the center, surrounding me in a glow. They speed between dense trunks in a funnel. Not one falters in its course.

Shrouds of low hanging branches part. The blue butterflies swarm around a gap in the trees, around a figure covered in a black robe. I pause many paces away. We're close enough to talk, but there's a sizable space separating us.

"Truly, Celisae, you have wisdom beyond your years." A breeze brushes past, and to my relief, the figure's cloak rustles in it. Chills creep up my spine, culminating in a shiver. "Once again, you have made the right choice. Unless, of course, you have dared to meet me without the required item."

The figure's silky voice implies a question. I pull my pack from between my robes.

"It's in here." Blinding light spews from my bag the moment I open the top. I pour the moonlight gown onto the ground. Its icy burn seared my hands while shoving it into the bag. I don't want any more exposure to it.

"Very good." The figure doesn't stir, doesn't sway, even when the wind doubles back stronger than before. Hair flies into my face, and my efforts to pull it from my mouth are in vain.

"Is this the last meeting?" I ask. It had better be. I would say it to her face, except I hold no sticks in this game. I am at the Earthwatcher's mercy.

The figure laughs, though it makes no sign of it. "Come now, Celisae. Where's the fun in telling you?"

"It would help prevent a missed meeting," I say, jutting my chin into the air.

"You haven't missed one yet. That record is proof enough that I will reach you if the time comes. For now, our bargain stands satisfied."

I stay rooted to my spot. That's not a good enough answer for me. I want to be prepared for any future tasks that might arise. Then again, what else could she want? I already gave her the sun and moon.

"Our bargain stands," the figure repeats with that same, silvery tone. I'm being dismissed. After a long moment, I turn.

"Some advanced warning would be nice next time," I say. "And some more time."

The figure laughs again. I have no reason to turn around; I already know what I'll see. Yet my head betrays me, shifting toward the high-pitched chimes.

"Have more confidence in your skills, Celisae," the Earthwatcher says. "After all, you haven't failed me yet."

Yet. I squeeze my eyes shut. Though the Earthwatcher won't admit it, I know she has another task for me. What it is, I will have to wait to find out.