Hello Mum

     A travelling cart wound its way through the wandering woods. It looked to be a peddler’s or shopkeeper’s travelling stand, though what wares were held inside was unclear. The wagon was pulled by a large skeletal Petpet. The Sklyde was urged forward by a cloaked driver.

     The driver looked to the side, and the moon glinted off their mask. It was a midnight blue, with silver filigree twisting in swirling designs around the eyes and outer edges. An unusual design for travelling, perhaps, but there were more unusual things to be found in the woods. And it seemed the driver had found such a thing, for they pulled back the reins. “Whoa, Skettle, whoa!”

     The cart lurched to a halt as the Sklyde stopped. The driver jumped off the wagon, landing at the side of the dirt road. They brushed off the hood of their cloak, revealing long cyan ears, blue hair equally as long, and a matching ruff around their neck. They were an adult Cybunny.

     The Cybunny patted their steed on the skull. “Stay here,” she said in a drawling brogue. “Keep the cart safe, aye?”

     The Sklyde tossed its head in reply. Satisfied, the Cybunny adjusted a satchel hidden under her cloak and started toward a path not visible from the road, but somehow made clear to her all the same.

     ***

     It was a quiet night in the Haunted Woods. Despite the full moon, no Werelupes or Werekyriis or Werebuzzes were heard howling. Rather disappointing to a would-be monster tamer.

     A much younger Cybunny sat in a clearing. She too had a satchel, this one frayed and patched, same as her dress. She read a book, or at least appeared to read a book, however she kept peeking over the edge. One glance revealed a forest of trees; the next, a forest of trees; the one after that, a forest of trees again. It was the same view each time.

     The blue-grey Cybunny sighed, laying down. “Where is everyone?” she wondered aloud to the empty clearing.

     Not even the trees replied.

     Standing up, she tucked the book into her satchel. “I think I’ll just go back to the treehouse if nothing’s going to happen tonight.”

     A wind picked up, the branches of the trees rustling in reply. A message. A warning?

     “Saskori…” they seemed to say. “Saskori…”

     “Saskori!” said a voice, much louder than the rustling of the trees. The young Cybunny turned around. There was an older Cybunny wearing a cloak and a mask of silver and blue. The cloaked Cybunny removed her mask, though Saskori already knew who it was: Saskia the mask maker.

     “Hello Mum,” said Saskori.

     ***

     The mask maker embraced Saskori in a hug. Saskori didn’t resist but didn’t reciprocate either. The older Cybunny moved back, holding Saskori at arm’s length to get a better look at her. “You’re getting so big!”

     “That happens,” Saskori deadpanned.

     The elder Cybunny smiled at the apparent sarcasm. Saskori didn’t smile back.

     “They told me you ran away again, poppet,” the mask maker said.

     “That was two years ago,” said Saskori flatly.

     “Mm, aye, well, mail tends to have trouble reaching me, doesn’t it?” she said. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

     Saskori looked to the ground. “I guess so.” She looked back up. “You aren’t going to send me back, are you?”

     The taller of the two ruffled Saskori’s hair. “You never really belonged there anyway. You’re a child of the Woods, Springabee. This is where you belong.”

     Saskori let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as the trees murmured in the wind their approval. She belonged here. She didn’t have to go back.

     A thought occurred to Saskori. “Then why are you here?”

     She tilted her head. “Does a mother need a reason to visit her only child?”

     “You always have a reason,” Saskori replied.

     “I’ve heard you’ve made some friends, young monster tamer,” the mask maker said with a smile.

     A question formed on Saskori’s face, but before she could articulate it, the older Cybunny said, “I have my ways of knowing, eh, poppet? Best not to question these things.”

     Saskori frowned but said nothing.

     She continued. “You’ve made some friends, but also some enemies. You do what’s right, but right and wrong aren’t always clear in these woods, and if you wrong the right people, you become in danger.”

     The younger one nodded apathetically; Saskori was used to her elder speaking in riddles. Usually, if you kept quiet and didn’t go running off on some quest, the riddle-maker would eventually make herself clear.

     “Not all monsters can be tamed, Springabee, but with the right tools you can do more than you could before,” the older one resumed. “I worry the right tools will make you reckless, however, and you will try to tame the untamable. These woods will always remain the Haunted Woods, and no amount of silver knives will change that.”

     Saskori’s ears perked up at the last bit. Silver knives? To have a silver knife was Saskori’s dream, the ultimate tool for a monster tamer. But why…?

     ***

     The mask maker looked at her child, watching as her confusion turned to excitement. As smart as her mother, that one. Saskia pulled a silver knife out of her belt, holding it by the blade, offering the hilt to her daughter.

     The young Cybunny took the knife, carefully feeling along its edge. She reached into her satchel and grabbed a Dappled Apple she must have gotten from Bart’s apple bobbing barrel earlier. She sliced through the apple effortlessly with her new knife.

     “You’ll need a sheath as well, of course,” said Saskia, detaching the one that had been holding the knife only a minute before. It was smooth, black as the handle of the silver knife it belonged to.

     Her daughter took the case and tucked the knife inside, covering it, protecting it. Spontaneously she threw her arms around Saskia. Surprised, the mask maker returned the embrace.

     Their hug lasted a few moments more, then with a final squeeze, Saskia let go. “I must be going now.”

     The girl was still blinking the daze out of her eyes. “Huh?”

     Saskia stepped back. “I must return.”

     The blue-grey one stared at her mother a moment more, then blurted out, “You could stay, you know.”

     “My Sklyde is waiting for me,” Saskia replied.

     “I mean, like, longer than that. Long-term. Forever.”

     This was always the hardest part. “I can’t, though. I can’t stay forever, or long term, or longer than that.”

     “I have a treehouse I live in now, we could share, or you could bring your wagon and just live nearby.”

     “Saskori, I can’t, I’m a Wanderer, I travel Neopia with my masks. I can’t stay in one place; it just isn’t in me.”

     “You could stay at least a little while, right? Maybe set up shop near Neovia again, like you used to.”

     Saskia shook her head. “Poppet, that was then. Neovia’s changed. Neopia’s changed. Maybe someday I will be allowed to return with my masks, but not right now.”

     The younger Cybunny looked at her precious new silver knife in its scabbard, then threw it to the ground. “You always do this! You come, give me some gift to make up for lost time, spout some nonsense, then just as quickly leave! Well go ahead, leave! I don’t care!”

     “Saskori...”

     Her daughter didn’t look at her.

     “Farewell, Saskori,” said Saskia.

     ***

     Saskori glanced up finally. The mask maker was gone. Good.

     The trees whispered among themselves in the wind, but Saskori didn’t care. Her mother had a habit of showing up at the worst possible time. Or was it that anytime she visited became the worst possible time?

     Saskori looked down at the silver knife on the ground, half out of its sheath. No, she thought to herself with a sigh. Her mother had a habit of showing up exactly when she was needed.

     She scanned the forest. It was an unnaturally bright night in the Haunted Woods. The moon was full. She was unarmed. Except she wasn’t unarmed, not anymore. She picked up the silver knife and attached it to the strap of her satchel. She’d have to get a belt later.

     Saskori made her way back to her treehouse, not running, but not dawdling either.

     “The Cybunny returns!” boomed the tree upon seeing her, reaching out a branch for the blue-grey girl.

     The monster tamer climbed the branch, holding tight as the tree lifted her up to the treehouse in its branches. She heard the howls just as she was closing the trapdoor to her treehouse.

     The child of the Woods was safe another night.