You were a worker in the village, always pulling wagons of firewood in and out of the forest during winter. The snow was falling down and you huffed the stray hair from your face, before you heard a distant singing. You looked over and, sure enough, in the distance was a large red tent. You made your way over to it, peeking inside, and gasped softly. Inside were two silks and a boy about your age twirling around on them skillfully. He was a circus performer, an aerialist, and he was beautiful.