I think everyone thought I was just some mad old woman. I heard them sometimes, whispering stories about me and the sister that vanished. They treated me quite kindly, though. They paid me to play at their weddings and feasts, and sometimes just to play at the pub in the evenings. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to live on, and it was all I needed. The pitying glances I got from the people in town didn’t bother me at all. I had a purpose. Besides, the children of the town loved me, often coming to play and dance when I practiced out in the garden. They liked me best of all in spring, when my eyes gleamed with anticipation and my music was full of energy and hope. They didn’t come as often in the summers, though, when my melodies grew slow and melancholy, prepared to wait for yet another year. It was a hot, lazy day towards the end of may when it happened. The scent of cherry and hagberry blossoms was thick in the air, and the rich green leaves on the trees around me seemed to glow in the mid-morning sunlight. Any day now the lilac would burst into bloom, signalling the end of spring and the start of another long wait for it to come again. I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind, keeping my spirits up by running through every spring song I knew on my fiddle. But deep down, I had almost given up hope. It had been more than twenty years since the fair last visited our town, and it seemed like it would be at least one more year I had to wait. Then a sound caught my attention. An excited murmur of people talking in the distance. Children laughing and cheering excitedly. Adults reminiscing about fond memories of their youth. I almost didn’t dare to hope, but it soon became clear that my wait was finally over. The Spring Fair had come to town. With a spring in my step and a brilliant smile on my face I went to pack some basic necessities. Then I grabbed my fiddle and headed off into the woods. I was going to the fair. And I was never coming home again.