The moon's pale gaze trickled on the bed through the open window. It danced across Zenobia's arms and blanket as a slight breeze braved its way through the large gap. Her sweat slicked skin cooled immediately but it did nothing for the lump that still lodged in her throat. She tried to swallow in the hopes of calming her only to result in her breath coming out in choked gasps. Her hands clenched the soft fabric covering her, a curse on the tip of her lips.

However, she sat still at the sound of soft murmurs. There, only a few feet away was another bed, her younger sister Zora, tucked within an army of stuffed animals and fluff-filled blankets. The five-year-old turned over, now facing Zenobia, thankfully undisturbed in the midst of dreams. Zenobia palmed her aching forehead with a sigh.

"Another nightmare…" She closed her eyes, trying to remember what it was that frightened her so badly. But it was gone, like the wind that barged in only a moment ago. The only thing she could recall with absolute clarity was her screaming. What she was screaming at, or why, she had no context for. Just a jumbled mess of flashing images.

With narrow red eyes she fumbled in the dim light, reaching towards her nightstand. Even though she'd rather go back to sleep, her fingers searched. Her grade depended on her finding her class journal and writing down her feelings and what information she did have from her dream.

"Where is it?" She hissed under her breath. If she were honest, it was a stupid experiment. For the last two weeks she's had to do this, and it never felt enlightening or all inspiring like her teacher and classmates proclaimed.

It was a grueling chore, point blank. With her awful handwriting that went off on emotional rants and cut off descriptions, her notes were the work of nightmares. Regardless of her opinion, she wasn't one to half-ass an assignment.

Especially with how…hostile her mother had been lately. Her face scrunched just remembering the shouting match between the two of them yesterday morning. Ten minutes of arguing resulted in being grounded for three days. All because she accidentally dropped some garbage when she carried it outside.

Something that she would've never gotten yelled at for in the past-let alone grounded for. Since her father left, things were strained between all of them. It was as if he took Zenobia's mother's heart with him. Leaving behind a nagging viper in her place. Honestly, the less the overbearing hag was on her radar, the better.

All too soon a frown pursed from her lips as she blindly lashed against the old, cluttered furniture. Her fingers brushed against crinkled candy wrappers, sticky notes Zora loved to write down for her, her grandfather's old windup music box before accidentally knocking something to the ground. Zenobia flinched as it clattered to the wood floorboards. Her head immediately jerked back to her sister. Her heart was pounding once more, focused to find two blinking eyes.

A sigh escaped the teen, relieved to find her sibling still thankfully asleep. Though just to be safe she waited an additional minute or two. After that she dropped down to her stomach, grunting as she stretched her fingers to the ground. The moment she scraped against that familiar round shape; she knew what it was that fell.

"Dammit. Please don't be broken." She gripped the edges, lifting both it and her up. The dim moonlight revealed a fox mask with a rope tie on the back. Her gaze softened as her thumb rubbed it. Memories of her father came to the forefront of her mind. Fondly remembering when he was still around.

Being an expert carver, he took pride in making masks. So many times, she would sneak into his garage workshop. There, under a lamp she would watch him sit, usually in a T-shirt and pair of jeans with his hair pulled into a short ponytail. The sound of objects rattled around while she dug through his personal toolbox.

Knives, mini electric saws, drills, chisels, all in various sizes would be pulled onto the desk. For hours on end, he would stay there in silence. Slowly, her awestruck eyes saw how a random chunk of wood was shaped. Smoothed and thinned, lined patterns carefully carved into an elegant design before being painted-all by his hand. Each one customized to his clients' requested specifications.

Hers was no exception since it represented her since her coming of age ritual. The one in her hands currently was the one she had worn since she was thirteen. The last one that her father made for her before he walked out.

Sad to say it had seen better days. The wooden base was aged, full of small cracks and warped edges. The black based paint was starting to chip, breaking up the white, pink and silver streams that used to pop against her eyeholes, forehead and cheeks.

Even the rope that kept it on her head was withered, frayed to the point that it was barely hanging on. Zenobia was long due for a new one. One to match her age and current hopes for the future. One that she refused.

"Zeno?" Crimson orbs met squinted sunshine yellow. "What are you doing up Zora? It's late." The five-year-old girl yawned as she sat up, rubbing her blinking eyes. "So are you. Why do you have your mask? You're not going out, are you? Can I come?" Zenobia smiled; her black rimmed eyes crinkled slightly.

"No, Zora. I'm not going out. I'm just thinking is all." Her sister pulled her blankets off her, scrambling away from her fortress of plush to hop off her bed. Zenobia raised an eyebrow when her sister grabbed her pillow, making her way onto the older girl's mattress.

She climbed, a mini earthquake with stumbling legs as she settled herself at the opposite edge. Criss-crossing her legs while resting her arms and head on her sister's lap. Zenobia gave her a look but didn't protest. If anything, she played with the little brown strands that came undone from Zora's messy braid.

"Do you think daddy will make me a mask when I turn six? Mommy said he won't." For a moment Zenobia remained silent, stunned by what she heard. Zora was only three when their father walked out. She…honestly didn't think she even remembered him. No one, not even their mother, mentioned him in the last few years.

"I don't know. I hope so." If she were honest, she would have confessed that she had been waiting for a letter or something from him. She knew why he left and more importantly knew that neither of them was to blame for it. It made it all the harder to accept when she checked the mailbox each day and found it empty. Despite the unsure tone in sister's voice, Zora's face brightened, excitement gleamed through her gaze.

"Maybe he'll make a new mask for you too! We can match, Zeno!" Quickly Zora held her mouth, muffling her giggles while her sister placed a finger to her lips. Both of them shifted their attention to the closed door. Zenobia counted to twenty, hearing little more than the crickets chirping outside before addressing the younger girl.

"We have to be quiet. We don't want to wake up mom." She waited to see Zora nod, before continuing. Her aged vizard returned to its proper spot on the nightstand as she went back to the topic at hand.

"And as much as I appreciate it Zora, that's not how your coming-of-age mask works."

"Why not? The masks are made for what you want to be right? Well, I wanna be like you! Foxes are cute too."

Her answer came with a confused pout. Despite learning about it in school, it seemed she still didn't exactly understand the meaning behind masks. It was actually endearing to the sixteen-year-old, but she couldn't be surprised. Her sister, much like her eyes, was a ray of sunshine. Who…unlike their mother, couldn't see any sort of flaws in her teenaged role model.

"Masks are meant to showcase what you want to do or be in life. In ancient times they were made in the shapes of animals to protect you against evil spirits. Though nowadays, there are more superficial styles to wear, it's still tradition to at least put some thought into your future when asking them to be made."

Zora's yellow orbs stared in awe at her sister's mask. Her hands, much like Zenobia's earlier, moved towards the dresser. Her lips upturned with a silent question while making the gesture. Without much more than a quiet chuckle, Zenobia grabbed her mask again, handing it to those eager, grabby mitts.

"What does yours mean? Are there black and pink foxes? Do they have cool silver and white markings? What about-" The rest of her words came out in muffles since Zenobia literally covered her mouth with her palm. Only when Zora stopped talking, did she get released and a reply.

"You need to chill out. I can't answer when you rattle off a hundred questions a minute. And as far as what it represents. In some cultures, foxes are considered wise, spiritual creatures, capable of fighting off the wicked with their wit. Others consider them tricksters that rely on their intelligence to swindle others to solely benefit themselves. Neither was really why I asked dad to make it though."

There was actually a lot of thought put into its design. Not that anyone would realize it by its appearance alone. Heartfelt feelings were woven into each sliver. Those hidden emotions are known only by two people. The owner of the mask and the one who made it. In a matter of moments there would be one new addition to that little secret.

"Why did you?" Zora's feet lifted up and down behind her. They faintly thumped the mattress, causing the two of them to gently bounce while the five-year-old waited impatiently for her response.

"Shortly before my birthday-you weren't born yet, but all of us had gone to the park for a little picnic. While mom was setting up the food and dad was grabbing things from the car, I ran off to play and got lost."

Zenobia couldn't recall where exactly they had gone, but she could remember that day so clearly, even after a decade's gone by. Blue clear skies filled with a warm breeze that fluttered through their clothes. A noisy, running river full of frogs and leaping fish. Thick oak and pine needled trees surrounded the site. It should've been a perfect day.

"Originally all of us were going to go take a walk after we had lunch, but I went ahead anyway. I had gone past the river and while trying to make my way back I found a bunch of wildflowers growing."

Peach violets, black lilies, snowfall poppies all wildly arranged in a sun filled clearing. They were bizarre, yet beautiful. So much so that Zenobia had stayed there, picking out the prettiest blooms she could get, forgetting that she was lost. Unaware that her dad had been searching for her.

"What happened then!?"

"I saw a fox."

"Really?"

"Yes. It was a black fox. Everything from the tip of its ears to its tail and toes was a midnight sheen. It had silently approached me while I was still grabbing flowers. And it plucked a black lily I was about to take right from under my nose."

She could remember staring into warm ivory orbs before it darted a few yards away. It yipped at her, wagging its tail, as if it wanted to play with her. Zenobia had thought at the time that it was someone's pet dog who, like her, had run into the woods to play.

"I ran after it, laughing as it darted through the brush. I wasn't able to keep up, let alone catch it, but it always waited for me before sprinting off again. Bit by bit I lost the flowers in my pursuit, until I didn't have any at all.

When she was all out of flowers, she heard her dad. Who at that point was on the verge of a heart attack since she had been missing for well over an hour. The tears that flooded his eyes when he held her tight made her cry too. But it wasn't from relief, but because she had made him so worried.

"What happened to the fox? Did it vanish like magic?"

"When dad and I reunited, we heard it yip. We found it not too far away from us, sitting. The black lily that it had in its mouth was planted in front of its paws. Then it raised its head, its muzzle high into the air before disappearing in a gust of wind."

Her mother when they came out of the forest thought it was a cute story-emphasis on story, but Zenobia wasn't exaggerating. Her father, despite being told many times not to encourage her "overactive imagination" saw it happen right along with her. Gingerly, Zenobia wordlessly got up, slipping off her bed.

"Where are you going sis?" Zora tilted her head, watching as a thin, red covered book was pulled out. The book was flipped open by the time she returned to bed.

"Is that…"

Zora's mouth was wide open, her expression full of awe at what she saw. There, within was a pressed flower. Specifically the black lily.

"After the fox disappeared, dad took the lily home, and pressed it into this book for me. But mom and my friends back in elementary school never believed me. Telling me that magic doesn't exist, that there was no way that a random wild fox would do what it did."

No matter what the people around her said, Zenobia refused to let her memories be tainted. Even when she was lectured for lying, she always held that day dear to her heart. In the end, it was no surprise that things turned out the way they did.

"I became obsessed with foxes, learning as much as I could from the library books, I could get my hands on. And when the time came for my mask, I asked dad to make a black fox mask, in honor of that day."

She truly believed it led her back to her family. To safety. Just like the stories she had read; her spiritual animal guardian came to her aid in her time of need. A protector from ancient myths.

"Do the other colors on the mask mean anything?"

"I asked him to pick colors to represent our family. In the original he picked white for mom, silver for himself. When you were born, he made a new one, adding pink for you."

"I wanna mask like that!"

"Your birthday's coming soon enough Zora. But…don't tell mom about the story, ok? Pinkie promise me."

"But why? It's true!"

"She doesn't believe in magic. You know how she can be about stuff. Please?"

Zenobia waited with her pinkie finger out in between them. Smiling in relief as her sister looped her own tiny pinkie around hers not even a second later. Sincerity found within those innocent golden peepers.

"I believe. Do you think my mask will be as cool when it's my turn?"

"Absolutely. It'll be the coolest."

"Really?"

"Definitely. But only if you pay attention in class."

"Awww…ok."

Laughing, Zenobia ruffled her sister's hair, making what was already a tangled mess even worse. Which in turn, caused Zora to whine quietly, maneuvering her body in a desperate attempt to avoid that invading hand. It did her no good as her elder sibling was easily able to follow her movements. Both of them were smiling brightly at each other.

A yawn slipped past their lips then, blinking their tired eyes in almost complete sync. A quick glance at the little alarm clock on Zora's nightstand explained it all. Bright red numbers, three forty-six in the morning.

"Ok, story time's over. Back to bed kiddo."

"But sis!"

"No buts, Zora. Come on, I'll tuck you in."