A glimpse of smoke on a clear day, a piping melody on a cool breeze. That is what called me to them. Nestled snug in a glen amidst gaily painted wagons, I witnessed outlandish folk at play. Dimly I recall dancing amongst them as swirling music and smoke thickened. At length, a man approached and laid hand upon my shoulder. One word he spoke, that is all. I did not think it a curse, but he terrified me and I ran.
As I bolted home I knew I would be late for dinner. Scolded. Given extra chores. Testimony to my ignorance, I believed life could offer no greater cruelty. For the stigma of demons was not upon me then.
Now I fear I shall never be freed from it.