I walk casually up the mountain path, passing several people along the way. My thick robe doesn't get a second glance considering how cold it is. The first snow of the season falls around me and dusts the ground in white.

The last of the tribe's caves passes by on my right. I glance around, but no one is around here at the moment. I hurry the rest of the way up the path, into the clearing above. Frost makes the grass more crunchy underfoot than usual. Only barren trees seem to watch me in the distance, so I head for the next incline on the mountain. I start up the snowy path when a voice asks,

"Where are you going?"

Slowly, I turn around. Ixek stands behind me, his closed fingers pulsing around a bow.

"I, uh, Nal m'se..." My mind draws a blank.

"Nal m'se told me that we're to rest today after all the stress we've been under."

"Right." Silence falls between us for several beats.

"So you're going to rest higher up in the mountains?" Ixek asks.

"Yes. I thought it'd be, well, restful." I chuckle a little awkwardly. A slight smile breaks Ixek's lips.

"Mind if I join you?" He lifts his bow. "I mean, I have arrows and stuff. You know, in case a lofaw shows up or something." I grimace, and his head tilts to the side. I quickly adjust my expression, hoping he won't read too far into my reaction.

"That'd be terrible if another showed up," I say. A second too late, I realize my mistake.

"Another? When did one show up before?"

"Oh, uh, you know..." I wave my hands, grasping for words. "Many, many years ago."

Ixek gives a slight nod, but his features show that he's unconvinced. "Let me grab my arrows."

He slings a quiver over his shoulder and passes me, starting up the path. I'm at a loss for what to do. I need to go alone, but how do I explain without going into detail about my mother? My brain hasn't decided yet, so I stand there like an idiot. After several paces without me following, he turns around.

"Are you coming?" he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I don't have to john you if you want to be alone."

"Yes. I mean, I think I should go alone." That came out wrong. I try again. "I mean, I need silence and peace, nature..."

"Don't worry, I get it," Ixek says. "Still have the dagger I lent you?"

"I gave it back."

Ixek slides another dagger from his belt. It has an ebony hilt with bronze swirls around it. My palm closes around it with ease, my fingers aligning between the looping grooves.

"You need something to protect yourself, just in case."

"Thanks." A faint smile crosses my face, though it's quickly squelched by the guilt rising inside me. I wish I didn't have to be dishonest about my whereabouts all the time. I can never fully tell Mother, never fully the tribe. The two worlds diverge in more ways than they collide.

"Get lots of rest before the trip," Ixek says. "You'll want to be at your best."

"Are you going?" I ask.

"No." He scratches at his closely cropped black hair. "These past few months have been rather draining."

"In what way?"

"The back and forth between the tribes, the late nights and early mornings." He smiles weakly. "You know how it was better than anyone. Anyone alive at least..."

I swallow. I still wonder about the details of his trips. Clearly, he was sending some sort of messages, probably to tribe members and regarding the Anderwres. They didn't seem too friendly when we showed up in the mountains. But I can't quite assemble all the pieces together to understand everything.

Ixek clears his throat, and I realize I've been lost in my thoughts. "Well, like I said, rest up." I nod and hurry away before things get more uncomfortable.

It's harder to spot light beams during the day, and I barely know the habits of starlight to predict where it might be. So I simply climb my way higher in the mountains, eyes scouring for the slightest flicker. I don't even spot sunlight.

The sun peaks after a while. I grow tired and cold from the snow batting against my face. My steps slow, and a rumble pulses through my stomach. I grab a spare piece of meat from my pack, one I saved from the batch I gave Mother. It's better than eating nothing at all. I chew slowly, savoring the taste. It has to get me through the next few hours.

I take a few sips of water. It fuels my steps with renewed vigor. Left, right. Left, right. Left—

I freeze midstep. The mountain drops into a steep ravine below. My right foot would've led me right off the cliff. I back away from the edge, about to turn around and find a new path. My eyes sweep the rocks, the trees near the cliff's edge, the bushes below...

Pink glimmers in the distance. I dare a step closer, squinting at it. A beam of light waves in the distance, caught on the other side of the cliff. Frustration wells up inside me. I may find the materials I need for the cloak, but that doesn't guarantee I'll be able to reach them.

Maybe the raeriel will be able to reach it across the chasm. The rocks will amplify the song, and there's no one around to hear it. Still, there's no guarantee that the ball of light I summon will fall near me.

It's worth a try. I remove my raeriel from my back. Both hands flex and curl, trying to bring blood back to my frosted fingers. My skin has taken on a bluish tinge from the cold. I'm hardly in any shape to play fast, so I choose the slowest of the starlight songs.

The bow presses into the string, slow and soft at first, then quickly crescendoing into full-bodied tone. I play the next few notes in quick succession before returning to the drone. The song continues as a slow lament. It's somehow major and minor at the same time, the wonky, awkward cousin of the moon and sun songs. Lines of unresolved pitches are sustained throughout, and phrases scarcely feel finished before a new idea takes over.

It's strangely relaxing, almost comforting to play. It's clumsy, but aren't we all? If the whole piece sounds like a mistake, then there's less pressure if I get a note wrong or if the bow sounds scratchy in places.

In the end, a question concludes the piece instead of a usual, assertive statement. The mountains echo the question, beckoning anyone who can respond to it. None answer the call. I secure my raeriel in my bag before scanning for the ball of light. Just as I feared, a myriad of pinks, blues, teals, and purples hangs across the chasm. I'm torn between figuring out how to reach it or just saving my energy.

But there's no guarantee I'll find more. I have to find a way across.

I peer over the edge of the precipice. Though steep enough to be a vertical drop, little notches dig into the side, forming a ladder to a narrow ledge. From there, a fallen tree branch bridges the space in the chasm. I can then climb up the other side and reach the ball of starlight.

My fingers grip the frozen ground as I lower myself over the cliff's edge. Flurries of snow no longer swirl around my face, but it lingers on the rocks, making them slick. The fur surrounding my feet is difficult to get inside the crevices since they're so fluffy. Often, my feet slide off the rock a few times before anchoring me. My hands have similar trouble grappling for a solid hold.

I miss the last foothold entirely and drop onto a small ledge. Pain shudders through my body, and I press myself against the cliffside to maintain my balance. Otherwise, I might slip and plummet to the ravine below. If I take more than a step in any direction, I'll fall off the edge.

When I feel more stable on my feet and the initial shock from the impact has worn off, I step onto the tree branch. Snow shakes from the normally dark brown trunk. A thick layer remains, though, which I'm going to have to trudge through. My legs wobble, and I crawl onto the branch on my hands and knees to improve my stability.

Ahead, the tree branch seems to stretch for an eternity. I take it one step at a time, first hands, then knees. The rhythm settles in quickly. Frost bites my fingers at first from being buried in snow, but soon, the pain is replaced by a dull ache. The damp surface threatens to send me over the edge at any moment. I consciously grip the bark tighter, but it's difficult to tell what my hands are doing since they're numb. Only the sunlight robe keeps me from turning into an iced statue.

I shift to my left, then quickly lean to the right to balance myself. My limbs tighten around the tree branch, as if to constrict it. I pause, catching my breath and stabilizing myself. Once I feel steadier, I reach my hand forward, testing my balance. I still squiggle from side to side, but there's less threat of falling over.

Wind sweeps through the air. I hug the tree branch, lying flush against the snow, to remain atop it. Snow chills my face and neck, the only bare skin on my body. The gust tugs at me, trying to pull me to the jagged rocks below. But I hang fast. Finally, the wind stops beating against me. I wait for it to fully die down before daring to lift my head. A long, deep sigh escapes my lips. I'm only halfway across. I squint over the side of the tree branch. Thousands of feet of space separate me from the bottom. It's a deadly drop. I almost regret crossing over the chasm, but it's too late to turn back.

Focus on the starlight. I glance at where pink light flickers from a brilliant orb hovering in the air. Right now, it's better to picture the end to take my mind off the means.

The tree branch sways underneath me. Wobbles continue to throw me off balance, and my frozen hands can barely grip the tree bark, at least that's what it feels like. My knees falter more, sometimes sliding over the edge. Somehow I hold fast and make it to the grass on the other side. The ground has never felt better. I feel anchored, not unstable the way it is in the air.

I pull my hands inside the safety of my robe. Slowly, sensation returns to my nerves. Once I feel more steady on my legs, I stand up, weaving between the trees until I reach the starlight. Slight warmth radiates from it, though not the same level of heat the sun produces. I place it inside the simmenberry box, easing the lid closed so as not to disturb it. A little more heat floods penetrates me from the brief touch. A shiver wracks my shoulders, and my teeth chatter for a second. My eyes return to the tree branch, the long, strenuous route I have to take back to the tribe, then shift to the forest. Since I'm here, I might as well explore this side of the mountain, see if I can find more starlight hidden deeper in the trees. I don't plan to ever come this way again, so I might as well scout out the area thoroughly.