It always has been the way, hasn't it? Cast out, burned, hanged.

[There is such bitterness hidden under her tremulous tone, a gentle fear to mask how little she thinks of the judgement of mankind. In truth, the things Vanessa says are in line enough with Mary's own point of views that there's a little bit of a shift, the faintest shadow of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Kindred spirits almost always are a weak spot in the end, and yet they draw Mary time and again like a moth to flame.]

They don't seem to mind your trespassing, at least. Could you not find something suitable for a salad within the safety of the town?