It was another five years before the Spring Fair visited our town again. It was a cloudy day in April, with restless winds blowing to and fro across the landscape. I’d just finished my morning chores when my sister burst into the kitchen, dripping with sweat and panting with exhaustion. “The fair! The fair is in town!” I barely had time to put on my coat and my boots before she grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door, practically dragging me towards the festival grounds as she waved and gesticulated with her well-worn flute. I figured she’d lead me down one of the roads out of town, but instead she dragged me through the forest, clearly set on taking the shortest possible route to the fair. It wasn’t until she almost slipped in a small patch of snow still lurking under the trees that I managed to convince her to slow down and take it easy. The walk was a lot more pleasant after that. The trees around us shielded us from the still rather chilly wind, and the birds were twittering and singing excitedly around us. They were no match for my sister, though, who seemed at least ten times as giddy as they even now that she’d had time to catch her breath. She was chattering about this and that as we walked, but it always seemed to come back to the topic of the fair. With a small smile I tugged at her hand, making her stop for a moment. “What is it?” She asked curiously. I simply told her to wait, and then I went to pick a bunch of thimbleweed. The forest was thick with the pretty white flowers, and it barely took me more than a few minutes to pick dozens of them. Nimbly weaving the flowers into a simple circlet, I placed them atop my sisters head with a smile. My sister grinned right back at me, and gave a happy little twirl. “How do I look?” “Like spring itself.” My sister laughed happily at that, and then she grabbed my hand again. I sighed as she started dragging me through the woods once more, but I followed along. She was clearly more excited than ever about going to the fair. “Look, look! There’s a pair of wheels hidden behind here! And look at these hinges. This whole stall folds up into a pullcart!” I nodded amiably, but honestly I was getting a little tired. My sister seemed utterly fascinated by every little detail of the fair. Not just the games and the food and the music, but about things like how the stalls were built or how light the tents were. I didn’t really see the point. The fair just appeared for a day, and then it was gone. What did it matter how it got there, or how it left? “Can we get something to eat?” I asked. “I’m getting really hungry.” “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I’ve just been dragging you around all morning, haven’t I?” “It’s all right. I’m glad your happy.” We did go to play after that, eating delicious foods and trying our hands at the games and watching the jugglers, but there was something a bit odd about my sister the whole time. She seemed restless, like she couldn’t stand still. And more often than not, she was playing her flute, her own fickle melodies mingling with the music of the fair. She was clearly happy, but something about how she acted made me a little uneasy. As we walked home that evening, my sister suddenly came to a stop. “Oh no!” She exclaimed. “I forgot my flute at the fair!” That struck me as a little odd. She rarely ever let that flute out of her sight, and for her to forget about it was very unusual. Then again, she had been acting a little out of sorts all day. “Should we go back and look for it?” I asked, a little bit of worry in my tone. “It’s fine. I think I know where I put it. You go on ahead.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Don’t worry about me.” “Well, all right…” She turned to leave, but just before she set back she turned her head back towards me. “I love you. Stay safe.” With that she left, running off into the woods before I had a chance to reply. I felt a strange lump of worry in my stomach, but I headed on home, thinking my sister would come back later in the evening. But she didn’t come back home that evening. She didn’t come home in the morning either. She never came home again.