The bitter grasp of winter still clung to the early spring mornings, but each new day saw its grip weaken. Patience sat close to the burning stove, warding off the cold. She rubbed her button nose; dew drops of moisture clung to her finger. Songbirds twittered outside, joined by clucks from the hens in the garden. The rooster died from old age a couple weeks before. He had survived the winter, stubbornly holding out to pass during a milder time. Patience felt guilty for enjoying the absence of her usual morning alarm, but waking up naturally to the sun warming her face was a treat.

She stared at the pot of water on the stove, waiting for it to boil. Two eggs rested in a bowl on the kitchen table behind her. It would be a meager breakfast. The girl had run out of bread yesterday and she did not feel like making more just yet. There were other tasks that needed addressing first. She had to prepare and seed the garden. She had to go into town to sell the fabric dolls she made during the winter, she had to buy new galoshes, a new rooster, and do a hundred other things. She might as well buy a loaf or two at the bakery since they usually tasted better than hers anyway.

The dread of going into town began to creep into her chest before a knock on the door brought her back to the present. Patience stood up with a start. Visitors never came this early. Visitors never came.

“What could that be at this time?” Patience had a habit of making quips to herself. Ever since her parents passed she thought she would fill her home with some energy again. Even so, there was little room for house calls. She cautiously approached the front door and slowly opened it. Blinking back the bright sun, a face came into focus.

“Good morning. I have a delivery for Patience Firmin?”

“The very same,” said the girl. She rarely received packages so she was always amused whenever something would come, even if she herself ordered an item from the stores in town.

The courier gave a timid smile and fumbled with his ledger. Patience wondered if he had been caught off guard by her scarred head. The left half of her scalp had been burned in a fire as an infant. Parts of the area were scabby, others were smooth and lumpy, all of it redder than the rest of her skin. It was barren and failed to produce hair. It was also susceptible to irritation. Patience kept the hair on her right side braided tightly by the base of her scalp to limit it from flopping over. The bristled end of her dark brown hair shot out to the left like a groundhog tail. Worst of all, she still felt pain in her head at times.

The girl smoothed loose strands from her eye as the courier found the correct page. She exchanged a signature in the courier’s receipt book for the wooden box he carried. With the package now off his hands, the young man tipped his hat and returned to his motorcar that was parked neatly on the side of the road. She watched him trek through the garden, making sure he stayed on the cobbled path.

Once he drove away, Patience looked down at the box by her feet. She did not recall ordering anything. It was rather large; on the ground it came up to her knee. The box was lighter than it appeared, further stoking her curiosity. Then she remembered the water on the stove.

Settled in the kitchen, two hard-boiled eggs and a cup of tea by her hand, the girl turned her attention to the box that now occupied the space between the table and stove. While the eggs had been boiling, she had retrieved a crowbar from the shed at the back of the house. Patience bit into an egg, feeling the heft of the tool in her right hand.

“Well, here it goes!”

The girl pried the lid of the box open, nails baring in the dim light like fangs. The lid flopped over with a crunch of splinters. Inside was a nest of shredded paper and wood shavings, a card lay half-buried in the pile. Patience took it in her hands and read.

“‘Dear Patience, I came across this specimen whilst traveling through Vyugary and thought it the perfect gift for your twenty-fifth birthday. Perhaps you can add it to your collection. The locals said it belongs to a rare beast, a legend or some sort. Even if it is a facsimile, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Wishing you good health, a very happy belated birthday, and all the best. Leland Unger’… Unger … Unger … Oh right! Uncle Lung. Hm, still traveling at your age! Commendable!” smiled Patience. How sweet of him to think of her.

She thought back to the elderly man. Not a biological uncle, but he was close friends with her late father. Patience remembered him visiting their home a few times when she was very small, hence the odd nickname. She had not seen him in years and only last heard from him via a letter paired with delivery of flowers after her mother’s wake five years ago.

“Hm, a skull eh?” Her grin widened. She dove into the nest, feeling for the prize it hid. Her fingers came upon a cool, hard surface. Excitement thrummed through her body as she reached in and lifted the specimen out of the box in a flurry of wood shavings.

Wide vacant eye sockets stared at her. They flanked a long smooth snout, devoid of a nasal cavity. There were no upper teeth to the top half of the skull save for six at the very front. The two largest canines splayed away from the center of the face of the former creature. Attached to the top skull by some strange ligament, still flexible, were mandibles. They were the creature’s unfused jaw, much like a snake’s, except these each ended with a solitary, long, pointed tooth. If the shape of the skull was not strange enough, the entire thing was a rich dark chestnut brown with a very subtle iridescent sheen.

“Amazing!” squealed Patience. She tilted the skull around in glee, inspecting every inch. “This thing is massive! But so light!”

The girl moved the bottom mandibles back and forth. “How odd the ligament is still intact and elastic!”

She ran her hands all over the surface, on top of the skull, and inside, “The interior cavity is so smooth!” It was unlike anything she had ever seen. Aside from a few subtle notches on the underside, the skull was completely concave and seemed more like a mask carved by some primitive tribe.

Patience paused and evaluated its size once again, “Bet I could fit it on my head.”

She giggled and glanced over her shoulder. Of course there was no one around to pass judgement. With a sharp exhale, Patience lifted the monstrous skull and placed it over her head.

Suddenly a jolt shot through her neck. She panicked and brought a hand to her braid. For a moment she thought her burn was acting up but she had never felt anything like it. The sensation had gone as quickly as it struck. Patience calmed herself and moved her head around. She could see through the skull’s eye sockets. However she could not see the fine mist that began to trickle out the back of the skull.

“Oh wow! I can see through this thing. Well, not well enough. I’d still have to take it off while sewing. Wait, why would I do anything with this on?” Patience chuckled and reached to take the skull off when her wrists stopped in place. She froze. Eyes wide, she gazed at her arms. Snaked around them were thick smoking tendrils.

“Wh-WHAT IN THE NAME OF HELL—”

“Let’s not do that right now.”

Patience yelped, her eyes darting back and forth. It came from nowhere and everywhere. This voice with its unearthly timbre seared into Patience’s ears. The sound crept in from behind and tingled and pricked its way to the girl’s temples. She shuddered.

“WHA—who’s there?” Patience shouted.

“I am Anax,” hissed the voice sending shivers down her spine.

“W-What?”

All of a sudden the cold weight of muscled arms tightened over Patience’s chest.

“You’re all mine now!”

Patience screamed and fainted.