"Celisae, are you alright?"

I tilt my head toward my bowl of corn porridge, as if not making eye contact with the matriarch will make her go away. What a change from the usual — ordinarily, I would welcome the company from another tribe member.

Jeayma m'ke approaches me. She glances around at the rocks lining the forest's perimeter. She settles on crouching in front of me. Her face is in my line of vision, and I have no choice but to meet her gaze.

"Celisae, you seem tired. You've been stumbling around here for two days. Are you unwell?"

"No, no," I say, tensing my jaw to stifle a yawn. "Just tired these days."

"Have you had a hard time sleeping?" True concern shines through her golden brown eyes.

"Yes," I say slowly. A story sparks in my head, one that might be convincing enough for her to not suspect that I'm sneaking out. "I don't know why, but I keep waking up at odd hours. It's been difficult to go back to sleep."

"Are we asking too much of you? Do you need a break?"

I shake my head. "No, no—" A yawn breaks my lips, interrupting me. "I can easily finish the extra sewing orders."

"Well, alright." Jeayma m'ke appraises me. "But do let us know if you need a break at the gathering coming up. Hopefully, you'll sleep well in the next three moons as we all love it when you play the laivo."

My weary eyelids shoot open in surprise. I completely forgot about the upcoming night. And although I was aware of the looming deadline for the moonlight cloak, it didn't fully click that I must meet the Earthwatcher in four moon's time.

"I-I'm sure I'll be fine." I smile, though I know I don't look convincing. Jeayma m'ke presses her lips upward in response.

"Why don't you see Kletasuah today? She can probably give you some herbs to help you sleep."

"Alright," I say, even though I have no intention of doing so. First of all, Kletasuah might notice my injuries. More pressing is the moonlight cape, which I have to finish in the next few nights.

"We won't send you out on gathering duty today," Jeayma m'ke continues. "Just stay here and try to rest."

"Oh!" I exclaim a bit too jarringly. Jeayma m'ke visibly flinches. "It is helpful to take walks, though. Helps get the blood flowing." I try to make it into a joke, but I probably just look pained.

"Oh. Well, I suppose you can take a walk any time, if you think it will help. Just don't wander far. We don't want you to collapse in the middle of the forest."

"Of course."

Jeayma m'ke gives my hand a squeeze before joining the others across the clearing.

I manage to finish the garment I began work on yesterday. What started as plain purple fabric is now a glorious, multi-layer robe. Whoever wears it will be kept extra warm. I noticed a hint of a sparkle here and there. To most people's eye, they wouldn't have noticed the sunlight threads. But of course, it's easier to spot when you know it's there.

I turn in the robe right before our second meal. Standing in line, I kept my gaze trained on my feet. In part, I'm trying to keep my balance. The ground quite literally "grounds me," helps me not keel over. But every time my eyes stray in the food table's direction, I catch Ulane m'ke watching me. Her gaze makes my skin crawl.

The meal passes by slowly. Perhaps my movements are more labored, so it takes more time to transfer the food in my bowl to my stomach. I seem to finish around the same time that others are lazily stretching, lumbering back to their work stations. I tuck the last scraps of my meal into my tunic, then return my bowl to the food station. Jeayma m'ke stands nearby, and I tell her that I'm going for a quick walk.

"Of course, Celisae," she replies. I head into the trees, not sparing a second glance over my shoulder.

People disperse through the trees, and I realize this probably isn't the best time to visit Mother. Someone could spot me wandering too far away. The tall, broad trunks obscure my view of onlookers. I duck into the undergrowth, waiting for a group of giggling boys and girls to pass by.

I wait among the foliage, listening for any more feet crunching on dead leaves. Several beats pass — my pulse is thumping extra hard in my veins. My eyelids pull down, and the forest fades away. The bush I lean against is strangely comfortable, despite the knobby, gnarled branches pressing against my back.

My eyes shoot open. I can't fall asleep. Jeayma m'ke might send people to look for me. I have to reach Mother quickly.

I peer between the tangled bushes. Half of their normal leaves hang on, creating a more open window to view the forest through than when the foliage is full. I neither see nor hear anyone, so I creep from my hiding place.

Crackling leaves and twigs follow me, no matter how much I try to lighten my footsteps. Every few paces, I pause, listening for a pursuer. I don't detect anyone on my tail, and at last, I reach Mother's cave. Leaves scatter to the ground as I slip past the bushes shrouding the entrance.

"Long time, no return," Mother says. Her signature, blank expression hardens her face. "I must admit, I'd feel better knowing that you forgot about me than you purposefully stayed away. But I think we both know which is the case."

"I'm sorry. It's been a very difficult few days." I set today's food before her, a corn cake and an apple I scavenged in the forest. Mother prods the soggy cake.

"In what way?" She takes a small bite out of the apple with a crisp snap.

"There's just a lot of work." I slump against the wall next to her. An inch of space separates our shoulders. The distance could easily be closed, yet the gap remains.

"The Matriarchs are working you too hard." Mother crunches on the apple again to solidify her point.

"No." If only she knew the true cause of my sleep deprivation.

"And those scars on your arms? Are they hurting you?"

I glance down. The sleeves of my tunic have pushed up, revealing the scabbed tail running up my arm. I quickly push the fabric down to hide it.

"No." It's really the Earthwatcher's doing.

Mother scowls. "I don't like how that tribe treats you, Celisae. They work you to the bone, and then they don't even care for your wounds. How can you play raeriel with hands like that?" She motions to them. My skin has turned ashen from handling the frosty moonlight. The cold has sapped away its normal moisture.

"It's fine." I push myself upright, then hobble to the water basins.

"Sitting at a loom all day isn't healthy," Mother calls after me. "It's giving you a limp."

I'll tell you what really makes a person limp: an encounter with a lofaw.

It's hard work fetching water, carrying the heavy basin back to Mother's cave.

"I hope you didn't leave while I was gone," I say when I return. My words come out in a slurred whoosh, and I lean against the wall to rest.

"I hope you will finally start taking care of yourself, instead of the tribe."

"You're the one I really provide for, Mother." It didn't mean to slip out, but it did. That's what happens when you're tired, you state all the things that are true, yet should remain unsaid.

Mother quirks an eyebrow. "I am? Well, I'm sorry for being such a burden."

"I didn't say that."

"But it's implied."

Why not dig my grave a little deeper? "Any implications you provided yourself, Mother. You're the one who associates care with being burdensome."

Mother stares at me with fire in her brown eyes. I'm the first to turn away, preferring the non-judgemental stone.

"Well, why don't you get back to your duties?" Mother says. "I'm sure you have a lot of them."

"I do. But that doesn't mean that I don't like caring for you." I look her straight in the eye, no matter how hard it is. "You're still my mother."

"Yes, well, do you think I like being so weak and dependent?"

I never really considered it before. But knowing my mother, the answer is no.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say. "I'll try to bring some meat and vegetables."

"Sure."

I duck from the cave. Sunlight blinds my eyes, which were shielded from the brightness in the cave. The grass underfoot shifts to dirt and brown leaves that scratch me as they break.

A twig snaps behind me. I whip around. That most certainly wasn't me.

My eyes roave the forest, but I don't see a tunic peeking behind a tree trunk, or eyes watching me from the undergrowth. I continue on my way. Pain throbs in my hip, and fatigue keeps washing through my brain, trying to sweep me into slumber. Still, I hurry pace back to camp.