Madeline's known you for five years. She has yet to see your face.

You'd stumbled into her home smack dab in the middle of the jungle, bleeding, skinny, and downright weak. She'd taken you in, nursed you back to health. But before that, you'd insisted on one condition.

I'll keep the mask on. That's what you'd said. And she'd respected it.

But over the years, her curiosity had gotten desperate. She's tried taking it off from time to time, but it always ends with you leaving for three days. And she hates it when you're not around.

But this time, you've been gone for a week. A week. Perhaps Madeline pushed too hard? Likely, you'll never speak to her again. Worry and concern eat at her insides. What has she done? Can she ever win you back? What if-

The creak of her bamboo door opening startles her, and she whips around, bow and arrow drawn. Then pauses. It's you.

You.

A sigh of relief escapes her as she sets the bow and arrow down on her desk. She studies you for a moment, looking for injuries, before she moves and sits on the edge of her bed. "You're back," she says. A statement, not a question. Though she'd love to know why.