Every Glistening Night

Chapter Twenty

I must admit: I am far from experienced at gathering moonlight. The only times that I've played the songs were with Mother as she forced me to learn them. And I never imagined needing them. While sunlight amplifies heat, moonlight saps it away. I never had a use for a piece of clothing that makes people colder instead of warmer. Not even the Erdest, desert people, would desire that given the cold nights that settle over their camp.

So sneaking out tonight, I'm rather nervous. The raeriel on my back is the only commonality between my previous quests for light. I don't even know where to look for it, though Mother used to tell me the story of the ancient forest winds. Whenever travelers got lost in the mass of tree trunks, all the same to an unfamiliar eye, the wind would sweep beams of moonlight into their paths to guide the way out.

There's always a debate about whether legends are true. But in this case, it's a starting point for my hunt. If my search returns empty, then I'll go from there.

I trudge through the forest closest to the tribe, the one I'd been in two nights ago with the hooded figure. I feel a strange sense of betrayal traversing these trees I've grown accustomed to. Though they couldn't have stopped the hooded figure, unless one toppled on top of her, their presence facilitated our meeting.

The darkness expands the deeper I go. A few times, I catch a golden sparkle in my peripheral. But I walk past it, forcing myself to focus on moonlight. It's not a bad idea to collect more sunlight for my final quota of water-repellent garments. However, I only have two simmenberry boxes to hold the light in. I'm hoping I can use both on moonlight.

To put the time to good use, I summon melodies in my head, bits and pieces of what I think are moonlight songs. I'm not even sure if I can remember one in its entirety. But after my brain warms up, one trickles back into my head. My fingers tap the air, practicing the notes that I think will match what I hear in my head.

A flash of silver diverts my attention. I whirl to the side, nudging a branch so it cracks. Further sightings evade me, but I know something's there. Normal trees aren't metallic.

I bend down and creep in the direction of the glimmer. Bushes obstruct my path, and I carefully squeeze through and around them, branches crawling at my skin. Then, halfway in a berry bush, I see it. A milky ray of light shines amidst the dark, so blinding, my eyes squint and return to my current predicament. Cold juice touches my skin from bursting berries. I'm too relieved to dwell on it. Quickly, I push the rest of the way through the bush.

Moonlight floats in the air a few measly paces away. I'm unfamiliar with the ways of the moonlight. I believe it prefers more solitude than sunlight, which often clusters together. Still, a flare of hope blooms in my chest that I can collect more than a single strand of moonlight at a time.

I unpack my raeriel, readying myself for the song. My grip tightens around the fingerboard, before from joint stiffness, courtesy of the cooler air, and nerves. I place my bow on the string, taking its weight into my pinky. I play the first line over and over again in my brain, willing myself to start at any moment. Yet I remain there, poised like a statue and unable to begin.

Just start.

Finally, I inhale the crisp air, cleansing myself of my fears and hesitation. My elbow pulls the first, silken note from the raeriel. The bow moves as if on ice, skating through the melody in long strokes. My arm moves in an infinity sign through the air, raising with the up bow, lowering with the down bows to ensure that the notes slur together, more fluid than water.

Music cascades over the forest, rippling outward as the trees repeat the refrains. Silver peeks through the treetops, between leaves and branches, under the shrubs and debris crowding the earth. White streaks the darkened air. Some hair-thin beams emerge from the nearby vegetation, but most glow in the distance, growing stronger the more I play.