In the clearing at the edge of the village, the first Sunday after the Easter holidays, the gatherings were starting. It was a time of joy for all the villagers, a reason to celebrate after a hard-working week. The day before, the young girls cleaned the place and sprinkled it with water so that the dust would not rise because of so many feet dancing, all at the same time.

The hora was danced mostly by the girls and boys who wanted to get married, but there were smaller ones for the already married peasants who took their wives for a spin. The old people stood on the sides, remembering the time of their youth while old women and widows gathered in small groups for one of their favorite activities—gossiping. From time to time, the women would throw a word out of place if a girl danced too passionately, or a lad was too bold.

Everyone, young and old, and even the poorest people, wore their best clothes. To have come to the gathering ragged, dirty, or disheveled as the whole village would have spoken about it for weeks. And it's pretty hard to stop tongues from wagging in a small village.

The dances lasted from noon until late at night, and the girls and boys barely dragged their feet to their homes, at the end. Musicians of the village or from the neighboring villages gathered and sang their cheerful songs or played their instruments with the music resounding around them and flying up in the skies or carried away by the wind to the woods. And sometimes, around the big holidays, even the landlords brought their children to enjoy the singing, the dancing and the celebration of life.

That Sunday, Mary felt her heart full of joy and hope. She dressed meticulously in her best clothes and combed her hair for a long time until every strand of hair was in place. She caught a peony flower in her long, golden tress, the petals of which resembled her velvety lips.She hadn't seen George for days, but her heart told her she would see him that day. And that day would be decisive for their love. Every time she was thinking about him, she felt her heart pounding.

After the Sunday church service, groups of young people headed for the clearing. A few girls in the neighborhood joined Maria and they all chirped about the boys they would meet at the dance. The sun was hot now, but no one noticed the heat. The clearing greeted them with its cool breeze, and the girls placed blankets on the thick grass, glancing at the boys who were watching them closely.

Soon, when the music and the noise began to grow, far away, the bolder lads began to pull the girls who were waiting on the edge with their hearts skipping random beats. Maria was called to join the dance countless times, and the boys did not know how to persuade her to join them. The girl wanted to dance a few times, but her mind was still set on George who was nowhere to be seen. He, who never missed a dance.

Maria was without a doubt the most courted girl in the village. And how could she not be, when her hair was more radiant than the sun, her eyes bluer than the sky, and her heart was bigger than the whole world? So it was no wonder that many of the village lads wanted her as a wife. One of them, Vlad, a hunky young man, even dared to take her aside to be his partner at the dance. Maria knew him. He was a hard-working young lad who had made a fortune and was now looking for a nice girl to marry. She blushed and ran away from his arms, then sat down on the edge to catch her breath. A few old women, with their kerchiefs on their foreheads, whispered something and laughed with their toothless mouths, glaring at her at the same time. 

The girl wanted to walk away. But then, she saw him. It was George. He sat quietly, on the other side, without joining the dance. The girl tried to catch his eye, but his eyes seemed to look for something or someone in the crowd. And when his eyes lit up, revealing what they were looking for, the girl's heart almost stood still. George was looking at Elena, the boyar's brown-haired daughter.

Elena was dancing as if she didn't even notice him, but from time to time, she glanced at him, meaningfully. She was wearing a delicate white blouse, tailored with a thin linen thread and a skirt embroidered with various flowers, in the brightest colors. Her black locks almost turned blue in the sunlight, and her green eyes, like the first spring grass, kept smiling. She looked at everyone all so proudly that no one dared to dance too close to her. Her father, the boyar, admired her from the sidelines, stroking his beard, surrounded by several other wealthy people from the village, the priest and the mayor. With his other hand, he stroked the silk clothes that covered his large belly. No girl was more beautiful, nor a better dancer than his daughter.

But Maria lost her good spirit and felt her world crumbling. She wished the earth would swallow her at that very moment. So as not to see George looking at Elena that way. Or Elena throwing smiles at him. So she wouldn't feel her heart break when George joined the dance right next to Elena. Or when they both separated from the others, dancing right in the middle. Or when George held her by the waist, and the girl seemed to melt under his touch.

When she felt the ground slipping from under her feet, she tried to make her way through the crowd and run away as far as possible. She couldn't. Something was happening. The crowd gathered in the middle of the clearing as if watching a circus show. Several strong men, four in number, had jumped into a fight with one of the boys. The boy was alone, but he was punching right and left. When Maria was pushed by the crowd right in front of him, she noticed with horror that the boy fighting like a hunted animal was George.

It looked like the boyar, angry George had dared to look at his daughter, had sent four of the strongest cotters to teach him a lesson. But George resisted them, his fists clenched and his eyes bloodied. Soon, he began to show signs of weakness and two of the cotters grabbed him by the arms, while the other hit him with their legs.

When he thought the lesson was learned, the boyar raised his hand, motioning for the cotters to stop. They slammed the boy to the ground right in front of the boyar who was now yelling with rage, "How dares a good-for-nothing peasant like you look at my girl, let alone touch her! You'd better know your place, boy, otherwise, it will be miserable and bitter for you!" And saying this, the boyar took his girl by the hand and left, accompanied by his whole procession."George, you're really mad, mate," a few boys from the village shouted at him while helping him to his feet from the ground sprinkled with drops of blood.

George struggled to his feet and, wiped his bloody lip and dusty clothes, then shouted with his remaining strength behind the boyar and his suite, "We'll see who laughs better, boyar... when I'll find the faery treasure! Then I'll be good enough for your daughter. And you will ask me to marry her!"

When the fight ended, all the cheer ended, too, and people began to retreat to their homes. It was already dark when George decided to go home. Then, he saw Maria stuck in place, tears falling down her cheeks. He wanted to say something, but he choked on his words. He reached for her, wiping the tear from her cheek, but the girl turned her back on him and ran away, as far away as possible from the sadness and suffering he had caused her.

"Maria, forgive me ..." he whispered as if he still had her in front of his eyes.

*

After that Sunday, George hasn't seen Maria for a few more weeks. He thought the girl was probably upset about what happened at the dance. And she had every reason to be so. He had shown her so many times how he felt about her. And just as many, he had made her think she meant nothing to him. And maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was better for her to just forget about him. He had more on his mind than to think of her.

For some time, he noticed that he was being watched. Especially when he was near the forest, at sunset, he felt as if hidden eyes followed him from the shadows. At first, he thought it was only his mind playing tricks. Like that strip of white light, he had seen out of the corner of his eye behind a tree, thinking it was just a white rabbit. The giggle he'd heard behind him was just a bird's chirp. That his name whispered by unseen lips was just a gust of wind through the rustling trees.

So every time he went home in the evening, at Mama Doca's, he kept asking her about the mysterious creatures that inhabited the woods.

The old woman shook her head every time. "Be careful with those creatures, dear. They're not to be joked around with. Especially when you're a young boy, healthy and strong like you. You see, they don't have men in their world, so they choose young men to father their offsprings. They take them into their world, and the poor lads do not return home and end up forgetting who they were and where they came from, living with them in their twisted world. And if they escape their world, they lose their minds and they no longer find their purpose in this world, even if they come back. And they remain so, with their hearts longing for the creatures that have twisted their minds and stolen their souls ... "

"Let's say I meet one of them, one day," George said as if it didn't matter. "How could I... lure her?"

The old woman frowned. "Well, they say they like sweets and anything made with sugar because, in their world, sugar doesn't exist. So candy and cakes are in high demand in their world. But to lure a fae is pure madness, my dear. God forbid you to fall in love with one of their kind. They're tricksters! They're deceitful. Not to be trusted. They have a good command of the tongue we speak and can twist your words. I'd rather you don't think about it anymore and forget they exist. These thoughts don't do you any good, my dear ... "

George tried to calm her down. "Don't worry, Grandma. I know how to take care of myself."

But the old woman shook her head bitterly, "Oh, my dearest ... I think you've already been caught under their spell. And if you're not strong enough, I'm afraid there's no way out."

But George laughed. Those creatures couldn't be smarter than humans. He would set a trap for one of them. He would lure her, steal her heart, then force her to tell him where the treasure was hidden. And once he would get his hands on the gold, he would forget about those realms, the forest, and never set foot there again. It was that simple.

So he began to keep himself busy around the forest more often. He would take the cattle to the edge of the grove, he would gather dry wood from the forest, or the mushrooms that were in the middle of the meadow would be the tastiest.

One late spring day, when summer was near and when the light was barely carried away, George decided that a bath in the stream that flowed in the middle of the forest would suit him. He wanted to wash away the sweat and fatigue of the day. So he started with a light step towards the heart of the forest. In his pocket, he had a smashed cookie, and now he let the crumbs fall out of it, one by one. Soon, his footsteps gained echoes. And George saw out of the corner of his eye a piece of her light, airy dress. He grinned, wondering how easy it was to fool these faeries.

He reached the edge of the stream, with the faery following his footsteps, a being of light fluttering behind the trees as he turned his head to see her. George whistled as if nothing happened. And the creature of light followed him, shy, but determined not to lose sight of him.At the stream, George took off his clothes and jumped into the cold water. The forest resounds with his laughter and water splashed everywhere. From behind the trees, the Eddie was stalking him, giggling at the sight of his young, strong body.

In the middle of the river, George turned abruptly to her and their eyes met for a second. Enough for him to fall into her spell. And she into his.

"Don't be afraid," he shouted. "Show yourself! Come take a bath with me. This water is amazing. It will chase away any trace of your worries or tiredness."

But the fairy remained behind the tree, without saying a word.

George jumped out of the stream, shook off the water, and wrapped himself in the faery's look. He looked for his clothes, but they were nowhere to be seen. He heard the fae giggle behind the tree and it was easy for him to guess the perpetrator.

"Don't be mean," he gently said to the fairy. "Give me back my clothes. I have to get to my grandma. She's old and alone. She must be worried."

The faery laughed behind the tree. Her laughter sounded like the sweetest ringing of a bell."You have to give me something in return if you want your clothes back," she said. Her voice sounded playful, like a child's voice.

The boy thought he had no way out. He couldn't show himself in the village naked. He would have made his grandmother the laugh of the village.

"So be it," he agreed. "Just show yourself."

The being of light came out from behind the tree. She was so bright in the dim light of the dusk, that George's eyes ached.

"Can you get out of the light?" he asked, shielding his eyes with his hand.

And the fairy stepped out of the blinding, white light. George's jaw dropped open at the sight of her. He had never seen such a curious being. Her skin shone in green hues, like leaves and freshly sprouted grass in the spring. Her big, mixed-colored eyes stared at him without blinking. Her long, tangled hair was the color of tree branches, adorned with leaves, berries, and dewdrops, and it almost touched the ground as she walked the air towards him. Her arms were thin and bony, but strong. She wore a thin linen dress, glued to her body as if it was wet, so the boy guessed every contour of her fragile body. And yet, he had never seen a more beautiful creature.

"You'll catch a fly if you don't shut your mouth," the faery chuckled again.

George rubbed his eyes, thinking he might be dreaming. "What's your name?" he asked her.

"Magdalina," she replied, taking a step closer. Now she was standing in front of him, so close, that George could look into her clear eyes, as clear as a mountain stream. "But my sisters call me Magda. What's your name?" she asked without taking her eyes off him.

"George," the boy replied, feeling lost in her eyes.

"George ..." whispered her red lips like the cherries of May, and it seemed to him that no one had spoken his name so softly.

"So? Are you going to give me back my clothes?" the boy said with a smile in the corner of his mouth. "I'm not used to being naked in the woods."

"Worry not, I've seen naked people before. I'll give them back to you, with one condition--if you let me touch you," she said without giggling, this time.

George nodded, completely forgetting the words of his grandmother who had warned him so many times not to make a pact with a fae.

Magda stepped even closer. George could now feel her fresh breath on his chest. The faery smelled of tree moss and stale air. But her smell didn't bother him. On the contrary. It made him feel good as if he was a child and he was caressed by the touch of his mother who left too soon.The fairy held out her thin hand to him, and the boy did not shy away. Then that creature that stirred all his senses pressed her hand to his chest, right in front of his heart. And his heart skipped a beat. George didn't know of himself anymore.

When he woke up, he was at the edge of the forest. He was dressed, but his clothes were upside down. He felt drained of all his strength. It was dark around him. He struggled to his feet, the woods spinning with him. He almost crawled to his grandmother's house.

Inside, the lamp was still burning and he could hear loud voices. George came in and discovered all his mates in his grandmother's only room, together with other lads from the village and their fathers. All eyes widened at the sight of him as if they had seen a ghost.

Mother Doca began to sob. "Thank God you're fine," she said, hugging him.

"George, where have you been?" asked Paul, one of his mates. "We've been looking for you everywhere."

"What do you mean where I was? I took the cattle near the forest," he replied, frowning.

"The cattle came back alone," said Paul.

"I must have fallen asleep," George said, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He had to sit in the chair next to the stove.

"You fell asleep?" wondered Stefan, a tall boy with sunburnt skin. "George, you couldn't have slept that much ..."

"What do you mean?" George asked, feeling dizzy.

His friend came closer and examined him with a worried look on his face. "George, you've been missing for three days ..."

This story is set at the beginning of the 1900s, in rural Romania. So the way the characters talk, the customs, and the action might seem off at times. So if you have any questions, please ask, and I'll be happy to reply. 

Also, what do you think of the story so far? Love lots!