Longing is a funny thing. The yearnings of the heart so often lead us to places that do nothing but torment us. Destinations where we can see the desires of our heart, but never grasp them.

The branch which now creaked gently under my weight was one such destination. The window through which I now gazed, blazing like a beacon through the dark of the night, a frame around my deepest desire.

The rain fell like teardrops as I fixed my eyes upon her face. Even though the mist made it nearly impossible to make out her finer details, I didn’t need to. They had been etched into my memory. Burned into my subconscious like a brand. The soft curves of her cheeks, the honey blonde of her hair, the gentle slope of her mousy nose. But those eyes. Those piercing cerulean eyes. Nothing could ever compare.

Even though I couldn’t quite see them from this distance, I could feel the sadness that she carried within them. It had been plastered to her like a second skin since her mother had disappeared last year. They had been close, and I felt for her. Even now, I wished I could do something to alleviate her own longing.

People had told her ever since she was old enough to understand, that she was the spitting image of her mother. I’m inclined to agree. There are subtle differences, some curves that break on different planes. Lines that come only with the passing of the years that her youthful visage lack. Overall, though, the resemblance was uncanny.

The foliage rustled around me as I shifted with a tingle of nervous energy. A trickle of excitement fell down my spine, as I reached up to remove the disguise that I had been using to hide my own features. Turning the homemade mask over in my hands, I couldn’t help but smile. That was it. The way I could finally show my love to her.

I ran my fingers across the smooth, pale leather before replacing the mousy visage to its perch over my own face. As I began my climb down the tree, my grin stretched wider, almost ear to ear. She would be so excited.

It always does a child good to see their mother’s face.