The only reason Curnen didn't collapse at once was the feeling of a familiar violin case in her hands--she'd have died before letting carelessness destroy her daddy's fiddle. And also because it was about the only thing to hold onto in this moment of disorientation.

She had no idea where she was.

She had no idea when she was.

She had no idea if she was, the way memories she was so sure she didn't have a minute ago were banging around in her brain. But it wasn't the first time her mind had gone to tatters on her and the thought that it might not be the last froze her.

Curnen should be in Kansas with Rob, or back in Needsville, but this was neither of those places. So many things were familiar--sounds and smells even the feel of the air--but she could not for the life of her have said where she was or why she knew it.

Holding the case tight to her chest, she went down on her knees, rocking back and forth there in the middle of the sidewalk and muttering a song she had not known, and that was perhaps the scariest part of all.

J'entends le loup, le renard, et la belette
J'entends le loup et le renard chanter

A tyrant fae crossed the valley
His list of pains he could not tally
To his cause no one would rally
And so he left to lead no more

His old and feeble feet did fail him
His eyes grew dim and ears betrayed him
The error of his ways assailed him
As he came to a stranger's door

With weakness spreading, he called aloud
"I have no place to spread my shroud
My folk are all beyond me now
May I stay with you until I die?"

The lord inside would not be fooled
"You are that fae, once vain and cruel
There is no comfort here for you
Thoughts of rest you must deny."

The night's cold wind blew round him there
As truth and fortune both despaired
He went away with all his cares
To die beneath the moon's cold breast

He walked through hills, he walked through dells
To himself he told old tales
Until at last his body failed
And he found the spot to wait for Death

He faded into darkness, sighing
Though he called, no one replying
One last feeble effort trying
Faint he sank no more to rise

Through his wings the sharp breeze ringing
Wild his dying dirge was singing
While his soul to earth was springing
Body lifeless for the flies

With wings too weak for soul's last flight
The dying tyrant perceived a sight
Death would take him not this night
Instead a wonder did appear

Around him stood the myriad fae
Whose love had grown to hate's decay
They bound him to the spot he lay
"You can do no harm while you be here"