A most magical time of year arrived in Redlog: Midsummer. The city transformed into a lush place of vibrant summer and days that never wanted to end. The nights grew so short that one could still see clear as day even close to midnight. The mountain city began preparing for the upcoming festival and it was almost enough excitement to forget about the missing children. Almost.

A blanket of unease still hung over the Red Light District, despite the locals there trying to stay cheery to make the most of the season’s influx of travelers. Everyone picked flowers and hung garlands up along the red roofs and stone walls. The cobblestone streets were littered with petals and pollen.

Josei was busier than ever and Mao’s responsibilities as her apprentice grew. They went to the forest almost every day to pick flowers, sometimes with Tobby hobbling along with Katja.

The older boy still wasn’t entirely healed after his accident with the rotvälta, but Katja helped support him and they both claimed that being outdoors would help him heal. Mao found himself wondering if Katja was secretly a cat too. Did she have 9 lives as well? It was a growing mystery.

The local botanists were tasked by the city council to lead public forages into the wilderness for flowers and traditional herbs. Pretty flowers to braid into hairs and decorations to celebrate the peak of summer. At the end of each busy day, Mao felt so tired that he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but it was with a smile on his lips and dreams filled with magical wonder.

People wore flower crowns and bright colors. Even Tulip got a miniature flower crown to hang around his neck. The moody bird tolerated it with distasteful grace. Tis was the season after all. Everywhere smelled like fruit pies, grilled meat, and flower jam.

Mao got to hold a lecture for other children on how to make dandelion jam. It was a full day of children running around the farmlands, baskets slowly filling with the golden blooms while parents watched from picnic quilts in the shade of the blooming trees.

Everything was blooming. Apple trees, cherry trees, pear trees, every berry bush and all of the fields were alight with bright flowers. Even the roofs were fragrant with crowsmoss blooms and new crows nests made with the swift growing weed. That’s how it got its name. Crows were clever enough to know that the sickness mending properties of the moss would keep their young safe and the vibrant red flowers scared predators away.

Mao climbed the roofs with the other children, nimbly hopping from curved beam to curved beam, firmly rooted shingles clinking under his feet. It was a dangerous hobby but no matter how much the adults tried, children would always be climbing in Redlog. The city was practically made for exploring it like that.

Even Joseph and some of the noble kids tagged along sometimes. They weren’t as bold and adventurous as the commoner lot, but could easily be tempted into trying if you offered to share your honey-candy with them if they found all the secret places.

One such place was between the Northern Stairs down into the farmlands and the Red Light District built upon the side of the mountain. If you managed to sneak all the way past the gates into the Red Light District- which was a challenge because the adults retaliated by having the watch on post to catch any sneaky youths, you could find a ledge half way down towards the farmlands that led into a tunnel. From there you emerged onto a platform that overlooked the northern farmlands and the lake they sat around.

There was also an ancient cherry tree growing there with the sweetest berries you could imagine. Mao loved to spend his evenings there, eating the sweet fruits and watching the farmers down below toil away in the golden fields. Sometimes children down there- looking as small as ants from his perch!- would wave back up at him if they could spot him.

You could of course also take the normal route from the School Street, but that was for boring people. If you were really daring you could try sneaking into the Red Light District and climb the top of the cherry tree to get down to the platform. Mao had tried once and nearly fell to his death. That was a little too adventurous for his taste. All things were best in moderation, even adventure.

Midsummer. When the much anticipated day finally came, the city of Redlog was abuzz with excitement. The festival started with a speech down on the celebration grounds, just behind the shrine of the wild ones. The mayor, head priest of Lady Hen’s following, and a few heads of the local nobles families, all held fancy speeches that made Mao want to crawl out of his skin from impatience.

Then the celebrations started for real. The elderly folks sat down at the long-tables to enjoy the sights, while everyone else streamed into the field to dance around the midsummer pole that they’d spent the last few days covering with flower garlands and leafy birch branches.

They all sang along as a band of musicians from the Red Light District played a multitude of instruments, singers sang and the dancers taught people fun whirlwinds of movement to do along with the music. Say what you will about the slums of Redlog, but during holiday times their talents for making merry shone so brightly that even the snobbiest of nobles got swept up in the fun.

Mao helped Josei hold a stall once the market started. They sold little charms of fragrant herbs sewn into pouches with runes of luck and fortune embroidered on them. And lots of soap. The midsummer bath was an important tradition, as were the saunas the adults crowded into once night started falling.

But it never got dark. Midsummer was the brightest time of the year, the day without a night. A time of magic and revelry. Mao got time off and a small allowance of copper coins to spend however he pleased at the many stalls once the first rush of trade had calmed down.

He spent it carefully, using many of the math tricks he’d learned during his secret school lessons- and plenty of whims of wonder, to calculate what games to play, what sweets to buy, and what trinkets to purchase.

He found himself playing tag with the children darting through the crowds, played hide and seek, and ‘spot the funniest tourist hat’ with both faces he knew and faces he didn’t. Everyone was here!

As that strange dusk that wasn’t quite dark but lacked a sun settled over the festival grounds, Mao found himself chewing on a candied apple outside the shrine to the wild ones. He thought he could see light flickering behind the closed paper screen doors, and merry voices were singing from inside it.

That shouldn’t have been possible because no one was allowed to go in there during a festival. The inside of the shrine was also rather small, only big enough for a little altar on a dais. Mao looked around, found himself unattended by any nosy adults, and carefully snuck up the terrace of the shrine. The doors were slightly ajar so Mao crouched down, apple held by the stick in his mouth so he could keep his balance with his hands. What he saw made him drop the apple. It hit the ground with a soft thud.

Long-tables filled with food of all kinds were a must of any Redlog celebration, but he didn’t expect to see one inside the shrine. The inside looked a lot larger than the outside, and bustling shapes sat at the table. They laughed, sang, and drank, but that wasn’t what caught Mao’s eye.

What shocked him was that they weren’t human.

He spotted a man with a fox’s head challenging a fat toadman to a drinking contest and felt a strange kinship to the autumn furred creature. A crow wearing silk was counting coins and jewels, then set a pile aside to bet with in a game of cards and dice. A rat with so many earrings that her ears jingled like bells with every twitch laughed as a wolverine told her a funny joke.

A grand wolf with fur like the moon sat at one table, smile showing her glittering teeth as she chatted with a cluster of hares in pretty dresses. She had a sling around her chest holding a wide eyed owl child. Mao found himself transfixed by the sight. Mother Wolf, the one that had gifted him to his mother on a stormy night so many years ago.

Of course he had heard the tale. Josei always cried with joy when she told it, so grateful for her little miracle boy, her heart and joy. How Mother Wolf had seen the cruel joke left by the elf and deigned to fill it with the start of a family. How despite the rules of her tale, she had let him stay for good.

Mao was agog. He nearly leapt out of his skin as a hand landed on his shoulder. Someone stood behind him, bent over to look him in the eye because he was so tall that he might have missed him otherwise.

It was a slim man- no, thin, wiry, almost like a scarecrow. He was so impossibly tall, but he bent just so and it let him stay on eye level even with the crouching Mao. He wore a white mask painted with red, black, and grey, a colorful face of abstract shapes making up a pair of slanted eyes and a red upper lip. The sides of his cheeks wore triangular shapes of red and dark grey, almost like fins or whiskers. His eyes were black, kind, but painted. The mask was perfectly smooth without holes for either eyes or nose, revealing nothing of the face hidden beneath it.

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From the mask’s edge sprouted a mane of golden hay, fuzzy tips lazily waving in the midsummer breeze. He wore white gloves and travel gear, leather boots that smelled of more places than Mao had ever known existed. On his back hung a backpack so covered in masks that it clacked like wooden charms with every little shift in his bent posture.

“Hello little fox, this is not a good place to be, not right now. You are too young to join the wild ones in their merriment.”

Mao just stared, wide eyed and amazed. The masked man tilted his head. He offered Mao a gloved hand.

“Would you walk with me? I’ll help you find your mother. I’m sure she’s looking for you.”

Mao gaped, head swimming with wonder. When he managed to finally speak, it was like a whisper, a sound of awe. “Are you a wild one?” He must be. There was something distinctly off about the masked stranger. He shouldn’t have been able to fold up like that to be on Mao’s level, not with how vast their difference in height was, but the stranger sat with such comfortable ease that any thoughts about the mystery seemed to just… slide away, like water.

The masked man regarded Mao. “Perhaps. I am the Mask Maker. I make masks. Sometimes for the wild ones, sometimes not. Would you like one?”

Mao stared as the masked man made a gesture to the masks hanging off his wooden backpack. Upon staring closer, the boy noticed that not all were finished. Some still needed a last layer of paint, or had only just been carved and not yet sanded smooth. Others were worn by years of use. Some had cracks and stains of dark red…

“Perhaps not. You are young. I thought I should offer though. The last fox I met here turned me down. I will offer one again when she’s older, sated by her human years. It would be an honor to see her wear one of my masks.”

Mao felt like he’d missed something grand, so he quickly shook his head- paused, then nodded instead. “I would like one- I think… what do they do?”

The masked man tilted his head the other way, like a bird inspecting a shiny pebble. “They hide your true face, let you be something more. Some are content with just that, others want to fly, run, swim. A few want to move on from something sad. I am an artist that offer them such things when the time is right. Perhaps it is, after all. It is midsummer.” The strange man regarded Mao, eyeing him up and down. Mao just gaped.

“You could teach me how to fly?” He breathed. The masked man stayed silent for a moment, staring, then shook his head.

“I only make masks. A mask lets you do things you already knew, just with more ease. It is a part of you. I think yours would be a quick one. Your kind are very clever.”

Mao felt like he was dreaming. He slowly nodded, wondering what a magical mask would let him do. “Can I really have one? Is it magical?”

The mask smiled. The paint actually moved, forming a pleased grin without teeth. “Perhaps. There can only ever be one of each kind, at least if I made it. Is that magic? I think you would like it.” The masked man slowly crouched down further, impossibly long legs folding until he was squatting in front of Mao.

“But it will not be free. You must give me something in return, but first…” The strange man looked up over his shoulder. The festival was still in full swing. “Let us walk, yes? Let us not disturb the wild ones’ celebrations.”

Mao blinked, then threw an uncertain glance back at the shrine. He nodded slowly. The Masked man offered him a hand and he took it.

They walked carefully down from the terrace of the shrine, back into the festival din. children ran around playing, screaming with mirth. The adults were chatting, eating, and dancing. Yet no one seemed to notice the masked man and Mao. The boy wondered why.

“They can’t see us.”

The stranger looked down at the boy, then looked around as if noticing the crowd for the first time. His boots didn’t leave any marks on the grass where he’d walked. “Because this is business, but not theirs. Let us discuss the cost. It will not be a steep one, I am not of that kind.”

Mao looked up as the masked man crouched down again, squatting until he was eye level with the boy. “What do you want?” Mao asked. The stranger thought, then made a show of looking at the playing children.

“Do you see them? Some are not supposed to be here. They were attracted by the celebrations.”

Mao looked around. He saw some of his friends playing tag, some of the noble children eating sweets by a hay bale, and a girl in a green wool dress that looked too warm for the season. A boy with a missing tooth stood alone, smiling dreamily at the people that danced and laughed.

Recognizing the last two, Mao frowned and tried to remember who they were. He hesitantly pointed, asked as something cold dawned upon him.

“Those are the missing children…” The masked man just nodded. Mao felt as if something icy was crawling up his back, grasping at his spine.

“They’re not supposed to be here. I will let them play for a bit longer, enjoy life while it lasts, but they must go before the night ends. Would you point them out to me? Everyone that has disappeared. I will make you a mask if you can spot them all for me.”

Mao thought about the offer… Something felt… wrong. “What will happen to them?” He felt his skin break into gooseflesh. The Mask Maker noticed his apprehension and said, “I will help them find someone that will take care of them.”

“Like Mother Wolf?” Mao asked, still feeling uncertain.

“...”

The masked man stayed silent for a moment, then spoke softly. “No, not her. But someone just as kind.”

Mao felt his skin prickle. The hair on his neck rose. His voice shook as he asked, “Why not their parents? They should be here in the crowd. Everyone is here for Midsummer…”

“It’s too late for that I’m afraid. The elves got these children.”

Mao’s eyes watered. He felt the need to sit down. To run up and scream ‘here they are! They’re still alive’. Yet he knew somewhere in his heart that they weren’t… Not anymore. The masked man spoke softly.

“They will go back to the elves once the nightless day ends. I would prevent that if I could, but I need to know who they are first. The elves are one of the few people I would never offer a mask. They have asked me before. Do you know why?”

Mao shook his head, tears trying to escape the corners of his eyes. He fought to keep them from falling.

“They used to be people. They changed without a mask, did bad things, forgot what it meant to be good. I would do away with them if I could… but that is not my role.”

“...But you’ll help the missing children?” Mao dared to hope, despite feeling as if nothing could ever be right in the world again. The masked man’s stare startled him. The strange man, the thing of the unknown, put a hand on Mao’s shoulder. It was warm. Kind.

“I will help them. Children should not be lost. It is too cruel, even for me. I will find them a better place to go. Away from the elves.”

Mao could only nod, tears spilling from his eyes despite his best attempt to wipe them away. The Masked Man just smiled kindly, understanding the weight of what he was asking.

“It is alright if you don’t want to. It isn’t your task alone. I can ask other people, but the children will be helped, this I swear. But you must decide tonight. It can only be done tonight.”

Mao hiccuped, wiped at his face, then nodded while pawing at his eyes. He raised a trembling finger and pointed at the girl with the green dress. Bella, the first missing child. “She disappeared at the start of summer.”

The masked man nodded. He said nothing, just waited. Mao cried silently then pointed at the boy with the missing tooth. “And him.. I think his name is Anton. He disappeared next.”

Anton was standing alone, looking at the ground. He’d found a little frog. He was frowning, uncertain about something. Starting to realize where he was, perhaps. Someone was calling a name somewhere in the crowd. Mao went on.

Next where the pair of orphans. He hadn’t spent much time with the two from the Red Light District but he knew their names and faces. Tommy and Jessie. He pointed them out and the Masked Man nodded again. Last was the smith’s apprentice, Duke. The Masked man rose after Mao pointed him out.

“Thank you, little fox. I will go now. You should find your mother. The Maple Woods are not safe right now, not once the wild ones go back to their dens.”

Mao nodded mutely and the Masked Man stood. He took one single step, impossibly long, and the next moment he was standing in front of Bella. She just stared up at him as he bent down. He said something Mao couldn’t pick out despite his superior hearing. Bella took the Masked Man’s hand and he stood.

They walked through the crowd, people stepping out of the way to let them pass without realizing they were there. The Masked Man gathered all the missing children, some crying now, then looked at Mao. The painted mask smiled softly, gratefully. Someone hugged Mao from behind, shouting.

Josei lifted her little son up, relief cracking her voice as she scolded him for not meeting up with her on the time they’d agreed on. It was close to midnight! The longest day was almost over. He watched the mane of hay disappear as the Masked Man led the missing children into the forest.

Mao didn’t say a word on the way home and that worried Josei. She’d expected him to rave on about all the fun he’d had, tireless from excitement. Something was wrong, so she brewed some tea and sat with him for a while. He told her about his encounter after staring into the hearth’s crackling embers for a bit. He felt cold, but Josei hugged him until he felt better.

When he went to sleep in their shared room, a small fox mask was waiting on his pillow. Mao stared at it, then picked it up and laid down. The exhaustion of the day finally set in, pulling at his eyelids until they drifted shut. He dreamt he was a fox running through the woods. Dark shapes were following him.