Once we finally finished all the farm work it was time for lunch, which once again, was rather simple: leftover oatmeal from breakfast, and some of the chewiest, most tasteless bread I’ve ever eaten. But despite being cold the oatmeal was still okay though, because of the herbs Saoirse added for flavor.

And after lunch, I accompanied her as she gathered more of those herbs. Yeah that’s right, actual foraging.

We walked around the edge of the forest behind Saoirse’s cottage, and I watched her as she searched for something with a basket hanging on her arm.

“Okay,” I said. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“I don’t know the name in English,” said Saoirse, without looking up. “We can find it by… smell.”

I rolled my eyes. I was still sore from the farm work this morning, and now I have to handle more plants. I miss my gizmos…

“Here,” said Saoirse, suddenly stopping. “Can you smell?”

I sniffed the air.

“Wait, yeah, I do smell something. Is that… garlic?”

“Come inside the trees.”

I followed her as she walked into the forest. The garlic smell was getting stronger, and more unmistakeable. The forest was pretty though, it felt like I was in a storybook. I half-expected an elf or something to jump out of a bush.

“Here,” said Saoirse, stopping. “Look.”

We had stopped at a small clearing. The smell was at full strength here, but the sight was breathtaking. The entire clearing was covered with little white flowers, sprouting from thin, tall stalks.

“Is this what we’re here for?” I asked. Saoirse nodded.

“I put this in the oats today, but now I need more.”

She then showed me how to pick them using tools she brought in a small sling pocket. I later learned that this herb was called ramsons, or wild garlic. It grows between April and June, and that helped me figure out the approximate time of year I was in.

After picking the wild garlic, she put it all in her basket and I followed her out of the forest. But then I turned around and decided to get one more look at it: the forest really did look like something out of a fairy tale.

“What happened?” asked Saoirse.

I turned around and grinned. The song “The Voice” by Eimear Quinn started playing in my head.

“This forest looks magical. I can’t believe you have this right behind your house!”

Saoirse didn’t really get it.

“It’s a forest.”

I started laughing.

“You’ve got that sea view on one side, and this fairy-tale forest on the other! You don’t even realize what you have, do you?” 

Saoirse looked at me like I was weird. Once I finally managed to stop laughing I caught a glimpse of her eyes. Her bright, beautiful, blue-green eyes–

“Mairéad!”

Saoirse turned back, her face a little alarmed. Someone had called out “Mairéad”, but I thought that was one of her dead siblings…?

“Nóra…” said Saoirse, groaning. Sure enough, an older, slightly more heavy-set woman with a cloth on her hair was approaching. I was still within the trees, so I guess I wasn’t visible. Saoirse however, was.

“Mairéad! How are you today? How is everything?”

“Fine… Nóra. I’m a little busy, so I should–”

“Oh nonsense! We never see you outside of Mass, you have time to talk. Say, why haven’t you found a husband yet? You’ll die an old maid at this rate!”

“Yes, someday, maybe.”

Again, I had no clue what they were saying at the time, but Saoirse definitely seemed… exasperated. Like this was something she was being forced to endure. Watching this caused me to start chuckling, which Nóra seemed to notice.

“Mairéad,” she said. “Is there someone else with you…?”

“Well, um, the Lord is always with us, isn't he– er, He...?”

“Of course, but I heard laughing just now…”

And then she saw me. Her eyes wide with shock and fear, she let out a piercing scream.

“WITCH!!!”

“No, Nóra–” began Saoirse, but it was too late. Nóra had already fled.

“She seems fun,” I said. Saoirse frowned at me.

“That Nóra, she will tell the town of you. We should be… c-care-ful now.”

“Yeah, I figured that too. But Saoirse, why did she call you ‘Mairéad’? Wasn’t that one of your sisters?”

Saoirse hesitated.

“Yes… but she went soon after being born. I was born after her, so Mam and Da used her name for me.”

“Your given name was recycled then,” I said. “Does that mean ‘Saoirse’ is your chosen name?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “It’s only me now, so I changed my name. After Mam went I felt… free. Free to read, free to question. But my name is strange… no one else has it. The townspeople don’t call me by it… only Maebh and Tadhg.”

I smiled at her.

“Well, if it’s any consolation I know what that feels like. Being given a name that doesn’t… feel right. I chose my name too. And for what it’s worth…”

I stared into her eyes. She stared back into mine.

“... I think your name is very pretty, Saoirse.”