Every Glistening Night

Chapter Forty-Five

The crunch of waning snow accompanies me as I wander through shadowed trees. A full moon glitters overhead between skeletal branches that shift in the evening breeze, flipping a strand of shoulder-length black hair into my face. I brush it away with my left hand. In my right, I clutch my raeriel, on the prowl for starlight. It's the fourth time I've attempted to hunt starlight since talking with Nal m'se. Still no luck.

A particularly large tree stands in my path. I start to go around it, but end up just leaning my shoulder against it, taking a moment to catch a breath and collect my thoughts. I no longer have to hunt light under night's cover, but I've come to enjoy the solitude it affords. Besides, it's easier to see a twinkle in the dark, and Nal m'se gave me permission to sleep in to account for late night scavenges.

Silver flashes in my peripheral. A few paces away, a moonbeam is trapped between the leafless branches of a bush. I stare at it, unable to decide whether I should collect it or move on. I'll have to ask Nal m'se for more simmenberry boxes so I won't have to be so selective of the type of light I collect in a certain trip.

Before I can make a decision, tiny wings flap between the trees, surrounded by a blue halo. I gasp, stepping backward from the creature. It's a blue butterfly, probably one of the former ones belonging to the Earthwatcher. Though I don't experience any more flashbacks to that night — those nights — my limbs stiffen to rigid bark.

"What do you want?" I whisper. The butterfly pauses in front of me. Its wings flap up and down to keep it afloat in the air. Then, it dives toward my instrument. I pull it back instinctively, stumble a few paces backward. The butterfly flutters around the raeriel before looping back to eye level.

I glance down at the raeriel. A blue glow soars around my raeriel again, then a third time. The butterfly darts away, then slowly flutters toward me, swaying from side to side. My gaze flicks between it and my instrument.

"Do... do you want me to play something?" I ask.

The butterfly bobs up and down. I lift my raeriel to my shoulder, place bow to string. But the butterfly shoots toward it. It nudges the wood with its body. I remove the bow. The butterfly nudges the second string, then flaps over to the fourth string. It touches a few more in succession.

"What am I to do?" I say. "Do I pluck the string?" The butterfly flies away from the raeriel and bobs up and down. My brow furrowed in concentration, I pluck each string the butterfly indicated, one after another. The raeriel's deep sound resonates in the forest, like it's taking up residence in the hollows of the trees. Blue encroaches on the darkness as thousands of wings flock to the forest.

They swirl through the air, and I'm filled with both awe and a smidgen of fear. The last time I saw them, it was not the best omen.

The butterflies form a wave that ripples before me. But they don't go anywhere. Instead, they just flow in this vicinity. It's like they're waiting for something. A single butterfly twirls toward me, hovering in a narrow space between us. It moves back and forth, and I take it as a beckoning of some sort, though I'm not quite sure what they want from me.

"What should I do?" I ask, frustration creeping in.

The butterfly loops a few times. I think back to the Earthwatcher, who was able to use music to manipulate them. Perhaps they're looking for a new master, or perhaps they're seeking redemption after being servants to Abarra's schemes.

"Can... can you help me find starlight?"

Instantly, the butterflies flow like liquid through the trees, fracturing into a thousand blue glows. I race after them, raeriel clutched in my fist. They're much faster than I, yet some stay behind the ones that go ahead, keeping me company. My lungs start to burn, my legs tire, and my heart pounds. But curiosity has set me in motion, and I can't pause for a break, even if I want one.

The forest ends, replaced by an ascending cliff. I slow to stop, coming inches from running straight into the rock. I crane my neck to look up all the way to the top. The thought of another climb amplifies the exhaustion seeping into my muscles. But if that's the way to starlight, I'll do it.

The butterflies swarm along the side of the cliff, heading back into the forest. I jog to catch up, but quickly slow to a walk. Not only does my panting disrupt the air, the trunks in this area lean together, to the point that it's sometimes difficult to see where one ends and another begins. Bark scrapes at my face and hands as I squeeze through. I try to wrap my raeriel in the excess fabric of my robe to protect it, but I feel the gut-wrenching abrasion of at least one branch against it.

Finally, the moon shines unhindered by branches overhead. I scan the clearing I've landed in, starting with the sheet of snow before me and working my way to the white-capped cliffs. That's where I see the twinkle, a pinkish glint against the monochrome mountainside. My heart leaps in my chest, and I nestle my raeriel onto my shoulder. My bow sinks into the string, pulling out a ballad my mother taught me many years ago. It sings of loss and hope, that semi-haunting, yet somehow consoling sound that starlight responds to. Tears spring to my eyes, but I try my best to blink them away, to focus on the music and not allow them to stain the raeriel's wood.

The music swells, both among the rocks and in my soul. I let the melody pour forth from my fingers, my bow, the wood, the strings. My arm sweeps through the air, much akin to the butterflies' twirls and dives. I slide into the top note, vibrating it. My wrist is the loosest and fastest it's ever been, and the mournful pitch surges in intensity. I release the note, yet it still rings in the night.

One second, two, three, four, five.

I swallow, catch my breath. In a slow, graceful gesture, my bow sinks into the string. Finding the last notes, I play a final, high-pitched passage, first of descending notes, then ascending to a quiet harmonic. The song fades from the air.

My hand swipes at my wet cheeks. So much for protecting my instrument from tears. But it's good to cry, to release the emotions pent up inside. Something released while I was playing, perhaps the hold my mother had on me for so many years. This music is mine now, not hers. It's my dream and purpose, not tied to aspirations she craved for herself.

A mirage of starlight hovers before me, a tangle of blue and pink micro-hues. I tuck it inside my special box, grateful that I'd skipped the moonlight. Hopefully, I won't have to make such decisions in the future.

I turn my face to the heavens to where thousands of magnificent stars softly glisten in the night sky. They gave all gathered, some big, some small, watching me from afar. I grin at them.

Thank you for sharing your light with me. Thank you for providing enough rays for the healing dress, and all for all the garments to come. The largest star in the sky seems to wink at me, sending a shower of stardust my way.

I suddenly notice blue light encroaching on my peripheral. I face the forest just as butterflies swarm from the trees. They teem around me, a fluttering whirlwind, a glowing snowstorm. Another butterfly breaks rank to float before me. It does a little dance in the air, up and down, side to side.

What's next? it seems to ask.

What is next indeed? My fingers twitch around my raeriel. I still remember the series of notes the first butterfly showed me. Perhaps I can use it to gain some tiny winged assistants.

"Can you hunt more starlight for me?" I ask. In unison, the butterflies take to the sky.

A smile breaks on my lips. It seems that my new friends can assist with one of the most challenging aspects of my job. They are far more adept at finding the light beams than I, with their far reaching oversight and their thousands of counterparts. Yes, the blue butterflies can help me on these glistening nights. I race after them, back toward the forest, toward the tribe, toward new adventures, toward the light.