Fugitive of the Sky

Chapter Twenty-Two: Please, Adonai

Aqie grabbed at a speck of sunlight and tried to force it into thread. It quivered and lengthened into a wobbly string, and she hastily tied it to the thread she'd already made. It melded badly and left a discolored lump. Aqie hiccuped in frustration and swiped at her eyes with one hand. Why was it so hard? She was already as tired as when she made her kaprae the first time, however many weeks ago, and she hadn't even collected all the sunshine into thread yet. Last time she'd been able to make it while she was weaving!

"I don't understand," she sobbed to the dark. After the hunter's wife'd nearly made her blaspheme, she was trying to pray to Adonai again. "Why is this so hard?"

She hadn't been outside in the sunlight for how long? The hunter hadn't said specifically. Maybe she was starving to death and her identiae didn't work as well when she was starving. But she couldn't help that and the hunter'd said he couldn't let her outside even if she gave him her kaprae.

Aqie sniffed and yanked another speck of sunlight. The strain made her head ache, echoing the pounding she'd drowned in on the way to the hunter's city. At least light didn't make her head hurt now. She stuck the threads together, pinching them so they melded better this time, and looked around the dark room. There weren't any sunlight specks left.

She stared at the pile of sunlight thread in her lap. Surely there'd been more? She was sure her kaprae had been bigger. Had some of it disappeared? Aqie swallowed and stretched out with her identiae again, searching for any sunlight left to pull towards her. A little whoosh of specks, and then nothing.

No more was left. Now she had to do the weaving. Aqie scrunched her eyes shut and swallowed the lump in her throat. This wasn't right. She shouldn't have to be doing this. After your kranais, you never remade your kaprae.

It felt like she was dishonoring Mom and Dad, somehow.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. You were supposed to weave your kaprae at your kranais, and then wear it forever. She hadn't seen Mom take it off, even when she was washing. You didn't take off the symbol that you were a child of Adonai.

Could she give it away?

Aqie swallowed again. "Adonai, is this cheating? Is this betraying You?" She ran a hand through the pool of string.

This is the symbol we are Adonai's people. Never forget that. Mom's voice echoed from the morning of her kranais.

I'm proud of you, Dad had said as he handed her the stone for her clasp.

Adonai's wind had roared around her and sunk deep inside.

She'd asked for the feathers from her namesake nightlarks.

Dad had given her a piece from his own kaprae, a symbol of his own history. Mom had blessed and colored it just for her. The feathers were the one of the last things she had from her time in the valley, her home. Adonai had commanded all Larkwings wear kapraee.

How could she ever throw those memories away?

But the hunter needed it. The hunter's wife had threatened her. If the other Mongors found out she was a Larkwing they'd kill her anyway. And what was the point of fighting if she'd already unwoven her kaprae?

The sunlight was starting to get all drippy without her holding it in place. Aqie took two handholds and lifted them to her face. Tears blurred her vision as she felt and smelled the pale warmth. The knots and lumps tangled together, and parts of it were pale off-white instead of gold. The crisp mountain air taste was so fresh on her skin Aqie dropped the light so she wouldn't eat it away.