By 9 o'clock that morning, traders had their stalls, tables, and the back of their pick-up trucks all set up with their wares on display. Exotic and delicious smells permeated the air as food vendors already began cooking for the masses. Chickens, dogs, and other livestock clucked, barked or otherwise made their presence known and streams of music drifted in and out on the breeze. Children ran through the streets, whooping and hollering, and bouts of laughter group be heard from passing groups. In all, it was a typical Market Day that sported a lighter atmosphere than most days. On Market Day, people temporarily set aside their worries and seemed to enjoy themselves.

Which is what Ciarán was doing, sitting on one of the chairs he'd made. A guitar rested in lap as he played it, although he did not sing as it was not his thing. Instead, he was accompanying a packmate as they sang a quite old but still popular Irish folk song, which added a bit of nostalgia to the lighthearted feel of the day, but what good Irish song didn't? By the time the duo was finished, the small crowd they'd gathered applauded before dispersing, leaving only a few left who were interested in perusing what Ciarán and his pack had to trade.