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As Mask tried to relax into his bedroll, a tight ball of something curled in his chest. A wrongness he couldn’t identify, and it made him restless and tense.
Mask tilted his head back, feeling the crisp chill of the night on his face. His cozy blanket wrapped around him. Chirping crickets and the familiar rustles of small animals filled the night. The trees rustled in the wind, a comforting reminder of his home. He slept in the center of camp, surrounded by powerful warriors–his brothers. So why couldn’t he sleep?
OR Mask is troubled, and Twilight helps him.