Every Glistening Night

Chapter Eight

The palest light lessens the darkness outside my cave. It's just before dawn, when the air is no longer filled with pitch, but the sun still slumbers.

I roll over onto my side. Fatigue grapples to pull me back asleep, but a single thought rises in the back of my mind. This is the perfect time to start my search for sunlight. I just have to be quick about it and be back before true dawn stirs the tribe.

I tiptoe to the wooden chest pressed against the wall. The heavy blankets and winter robes weigh down my arms as I try to reach past them. Really, I ought to just take them all out. But at the moment, it seems much faster to burrow my way under them. I remove my raeriel and a box to collect the light in. Beside it is the box containing the sunlight I collected a few days ago. I pull that as well, a sinking feeling in my gut. The clothes fall back into place.

My gaze flicks over my shoulder, though honestly, if someone were there, they would've figured out what I was doing by now. They would know of my betrayal. To my relief, no figure lurks in the dark. I set my raeriel on the ground along with the extra wooden box. My fingers ease the lid of the second box open.

Brilliant light should've poured forth from it. Instead, a dull, powdery residue coats the interior. I grimace. Too many days have passed since I collected it. The wooden confines stifled the sun's beams, disintegrating them. I pack up my raeriel and the two boxes, one of which I must clean before using again. The lusterless powder has a way of dulling fresh light and increasing the chance that it will disintegrate as well.

I sweep my gaze up and down the mountain path before starting up the side of the mountain. My grip is loose on the rocks, and a few times, my head lightens like I'm close to fainting. I curl my toes harder against the rock in those moments, imagining talons sprouting from my hands and feet to anchor me to the cliff.

At the top, I pause for a moment, listening into the distance. A faint trickling sound reaches my ears. I head in its direction, dodging trees outlined in my path. Grass strokes my feet after being poked with sharp rock only minutes ago. I imagine how nice it'd feel to lay down in it, to let myself fall gently asleep...

My eyes jolt open, though I can't see any clearer than before. The motion is enough to stave off the sleepy fog closing in on me. I have to stay on task.

If you finish early, you can go back to sleep. What an empty promise to make to myself. Even if I make it back before dawn, there'll hardly be the time to sink into prolonged slumber.

My feet pick up the pace nonetheless, and the waxing sound of rushing water further pushes me onward. It chimes like bells, drawing me closer and closer. My eyes, now adjusted to the dark, spot the shape of a riverbank through the trees. I kneel at its side, taking in a whiff of it. I can't tell its color in the dark, which is the prime indicator of pollutants. However, every tribe member learns a secondary, and sometimes more crucial way of checking the water's sanitation — the smell.

Developing our sense of smell takes years of practice. When I first started, I thought I'd never gain the sensitivity that many older tribes members have, like being able to walk to the edge of the forest and foretell the herbs present at any given moment. My peers often lamented that the older ones were born with extra sensitive senses, often talking about how their expectations for us were unrealistic.

I agreed with them until one day, I noticed that I could detect a hint of fruit in the air, though none was in plain sight. The others must've realized the same thing, for we all seemed to do the exercises our mentors gave us more frequently and of our own volition, rather than being forced to practice the skill.

The water's scent returns to my nose fresh and clean. It almost has a cleansing quality to it. The coolness helps clear the groggy haze fogging my mind, sharpening my focus. I dip my hands into the stream and splash crisp water on my face. It further awakens my senses. I shake my head to scatter some of the droplets. Hair clings to the sides of my face, and I brush those irritating strands behind my ears.