Maeve hummed to herself gently as she prepared a small to-go bag. She wasn't quite sure what exactly she'd need for the job, but she found it to be better if she was over-prepared than if she was under-prepared.

     Maeve slipped small stacks of parchment or ledgers in the cloth bag. She knew if this was all just some sort of ruse orchestrated by Reverend Richard Henry himself, there was a chance that he'd start poking through her belongings, just desperately trying to uncover something he could hang over her.

       She knew full well that if she didn't take certain items or even mask others, he or his men would uncover them. The last thing she needed was any of them or the townsfolk to find out she was a practicing witch—-especially with their treatment in the Old World… Their own gruesome ends.

      Maeve cringed just thinking about it—-the way it all came to an end. The fires… The ropes. It would be something waiting for her if she were to slip up… She knew better though than to be so careless.

      Maeve knew full well that she wasn't doing a single thing that would even be considered ‘down-right malicious’. She had only ever done things that benefited the people. No matter where they were.

     Back in Ireland, Maeve did everything she could to help those around her. She cast spells of healing to save someone's dying son or to save their blighted cattle. She'd do a simple trick when someone complained of a missing heirloom to help find it.

     None of that was exactly ‘malicious’ by Maeve’s standards…

      Hell, even when the ship arrived, Maeve didn't stop using magic to help others. She cured those who were sick on the ship to help limit the amount of bodies that would be thrown overboard.

     She had used her arcane skills and knowledge to help the crops grow when the first winter there had been far beyond ‘harsh’--regardless of the side, she still helped with the production of flora and fauna, as she had used some of her magic to aid Hassun’s tribe too—-not just the settlement.

      Maeve had even healed her own sister, Nora, who was on the brink of death. Maeve had to pour all of the power she could into a blood magic spell, but for all of the pain and hell it was, her little sister was still breathing… Still alive… Still there with her.

     Though, every spell had a price—-and one like that… The cost was greater.

     Nora wasn't exactly mortal now… She was different just as Maeve was, but there was still a paranormal divide between the two.

      Nora was a banshee. She had barely come to terms with it. And just like her older sister, Nora had to hide it from the rest of the villagers for fear of rioting.

     Maeve cast a glance over her shoulder to where she had cast a spell to hide her bookshelf and mini cauldron—-she’d barely used the damn thing… It had been a joke gift from Nora—-one of the only people who knew the truth about Maeve... besides Aelod Arthur Henry, that was.

      Maeve trusted Aelod more than anyone could know. She knew he'd never expel her secret to the town.

      Maeve slipped outside her home, cloth back slung over her shoulder.

     Maeve gave a quick nod to Richard, who was not too far away from the mouth of the village—-right near where it met the wilderness—-signifying that she had indeed taken the time to think about his job offer from earlier and every single thing it entailed—-even more so, it told him that she had agreed to take it after all—-that she'd soon set off on the hunt to find his so-called ‘precious’ son, Aelod and save him from any “dangers” he might be in with this Saga person.

     With that Maeve took a deep breath and stepped off into the wilds.