In the Village Square, there was held a Bi-Annual Market. Twice a year folks from all over the land congregated to sell, and buy, and trade. Mostly…
The Winter Faire, as it happened to be named, was held at the Winter Solstice- that chilly time of year when the sun goes down earlier than it gets up in the morning, and it’s very cold, and usually very wet, and sometimes very white. It wasn’t, this year. But it was very cold, and the harvest had been quite good, so there was plenty to sell and that made it easy to buy what wasn’t harvested, but made.
Cecily got up that morning with a great sense of excitement, and expectation. She washed her face and her hands and her whiskers and put on her best dress, with her woolens underneath and her favorite knitted shawl over top, and went down to breakfast. She had a bowl of rice porridge with honey and chopped nuts and drank a mug of rosehip and lavender tea, then did the morning chores before the sun had even peeped over the edge of the world.
She swept the floor, cleaned the stone hearth, and pulled up water from the old well. She feed the birds their cracked seed, gave the milch mouse her hay, brought up some roots from the cold cellar and set the beans to soak for dinner that night. And then she fetched her basket from the pantry, tucked her list into her pocket, and headed off to the Winter Faire!