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.

I leave my room on a mission to find Jeayma m'ke. I spot her from behind first, wearing her signature brown braids, interwoven with sparse gray. She sits on a stone next to the cooks, who have set up breakfast for the day. As I approach, a woman holds out a bowl with corn mush and fruit to me. I take it absently on my way to the matriarch.

"Good morning, Jeayma m'ke," I say with a dip of my head.

A smile spreads across her closed lips. She swallows before showing her pearly teeth. "Good morning! It's nice to see you up so bright and early."

I cringe inside. She noticed the change in my normal routine. I write a mental note to myself to reestablish my daily habits.

"You as well," I say, tripping over a stammer. "I was just wondering if I could collect a little more crimson pine this morning. When I went over the orders yesterday, I realized that I wouldn't have enough."

Jeayma m'ke furrows her brow. "Really? I thought we had plenty the last time I checked the inventory. The flowers just need to be pressed. The children can work on that today."

My fingers curl at the edges of my bag. Of course, it's full of crimson pine that I haven't had the time to soak and press yet. But this is my best opportunity to slip away from the tribe.

"I just need a few more flowers," I press. "I shouldn't be long."

Unless this ika slik is more evasive than I'm estimating.

"Well, alright," Jeayma m'ke acquiesces. "But hurry back. We don't want your orders to pile up. Slow and steady progress prevents future stress."

This is the philosophy that keeps our tribe running like dawn and dusk.

"Yes, Jeayma m'ke. Thank you." I dip my head once more before walking away.

As I eat my breakfast, alone on my special rock, my eyes fall on a few tribes members setting out looms for the day. My jaw freezes halfway through a berry. Its juice trickles into my mouth, though it tastes sour, opposed to the previous ones that were sweet.

If the looms are wooden, I'm going to have to cover one with ika silk. My head spins just thinking about the amount I somehow need to track down. This hooded figure is far from practical, though I could've guessed as much considering that she uses butterflies as messengers.

I have to figure out a way to get a loom, too. Someone is bound to notice if one goes missing, and the last thing I need is people investigating its disappearance.

Focus on finding the tree first. Start simple, then work up to the hard tasks.

After breakfast, I trek deep into the forest, past where I normally collect flowers. Each crunch of twigs or shuffle of leaves makes me look over my shoulder. If someone were to follow me, they'd know pretty quickly that I'm not collecting crimson pine. But it's only a rabbit darting through the undergrowth, a squirrel scrambling up a tree. No eyes peer at me behind steadfast bark.

I grow antsy with each passing step. The sunlight filtering in from above seems to grow brighter, wiping away the last traces of dawn. My feet pick up the pace, alternating between a jog and quick steps. But no tree matches Mother's description of the celestial maple.

Despair looms heavy over me. The beginning of tears pricks my eyes, tensing my brow. I force myself to swallow over the tightening in my throat. I will not cry. It isn't over yet.

The density of the forest loosens. Between the trees in my path, I can see more undulating ground covered in grass. I've traveled all the way to the end of the forest without a trace of celestial maple. Part of me wants to turn around, race back to the tribe before Jeayma m'ke worries, or worse, sends someone to look for me. But the other part wants to press on just a little further.

It's only a few quick strides to the end of the forest. I stop at the edge, overlooking the sparser trees that surround a rockface. In the center of the first microhill, there's a reddish brown tree. Thick roots spread across the ground and twist together on the trunk, ascending into an umbrella of leaves. They're so shiny, color so rich, it's like each leaf was coated in liquid gold.

This is the celestial maple. I finally found it. I let out a joyful squeal as I race to it, my hair flapping around my shoulders. My foot slides into a crook at the base, and I grasp at sturdy branches to pull myself up. The tree is rather stout, so I don't have far to climb before reaching the top. Leaves brush against my arms, my face, kind of rough and textured like paint. A few tiny webs stretch over the branches, but they're too small and flimsy to be ika silk. With a single breath, I could break them.

I check under each individual leaf, unwilling to miss one, for the one I miss is sure to have the ika silk. At last, I find a white string stuck on the back of one leaf. I gently remove it, though the slight criss-crossing in its structure doesn't break. I smile, placing it in my bag. Only ika silk could hold up like that.

Time seems to dissolve as I make my way round the tree. I collect every strand I come by, careful to not jostle it too much just in case I ruin it. Spidery white fills my bag. From a distance, it almost reminds me of the cotton we get from the Alkse.

At the very end, when I've almost made an entire rotation around the treetop, a white corner catches my eye. I lift up the leaves hanging closest to the trunk and gasp. A huge web extends over the bark, running all the way to the highest part of the tree. Even with extending my fingertips as high as they will go, I can't quite reach the top.

Another branch extends from the tree, thinner but slightly higher than the one I stand on right now. I grab hold of the tree trunk to stabilize myself, then carefully step onto the branch. It sways underneath me, and panic closes around my chest at the thought of it snapping. I turn my gaze upward, working my finger under the stringy web in haste. One hand remains planted on another branch to maintain my balance.

The corners of the web separate from the bark, loosely hanging in the air. No matter how flimsy the hold appears, the ika silk sticks onto the tree until I reach the final bit. The bottom of the web folds into my palm, then I nip the final corner free. I shove the entire thing into my bag, sealing the top for the way down.

I make a nimble descent to the ground, though my limbs drag toward the end. The moment rough wood switches to grass underfoot, I want to collapse on the ground. But if the angle of the sun's rays are any indication, it's noon. A rumble pulses through my stomach to seal the deal. I can rest once I've returned to the tribe.