More fear swelled in Mira as the man before her spoke, talking of all the things he could accuse her of. Luring a preacher out of his home and into the forests. Dancing before him in only her nightdress. It wasn't like she had done so purposefully. He must have seen her when she was leaving the judge's son's home and followed her here. Had she known he had been there watching her, she wouldn't have done any of those things. She knew he was right though. The congregation would have her neck if they discovered this little mishap. And with her father gone now, there would be no one there to speak good word of her. After all, she was just the strange un-social social girl who spent all her time reading and shut up in the home of the judge's son. No one would have any trouble calling her a witch and having her killed. No one would miss her if they did either. She hung her head, looking down at the ground as he continued to speak.

He considered what to do with her, saying he didn't believe her to be a witch, yet knowing what she had done here was wrong. He and she both indeed knew she wouldn't last a day out in the wilderness surrounding the settlement and if the natives found her they would likely bash her skull in or sell her off as a slave to another tribe. No options were emerging from the young preacher's pondering and Mira was starting to get nervous that the only option would indeed be to hand her over to the judge and let him deal with her, giving her the punishment proper for what she had done, or what they thought she had done, wrong here.

Mira looked up when he asked curiously why she seemed to be more afraid of the Judge's son than the Judge himself, saying he would have thought she would fear the judge more, for he would seem to be more of a danger to her. She had been so sure everyone in town had to know what was going on with she and the judge's son. Almost everyone had seen the bruises that littered her pale skin and talked about what was happening. But than again, this young preacher had just returned to the settlement after his long education over seas. He had most likely yet to hear the whispers of the abuse she was going through. Or if he had, he was acting as if he hadn't. And in the pale light given by the moon, the marks must have been difficult to see. She averted her gaze, rubbing her bare arms to keep from the night chill, not daring to retrieve her cloak to slip on, for she had discarded it on the ground, next to the rock the preacher rested on, "The son can be just as, if not more dangerous, then his father....he is quick to punish harshly for imperfections."

When he proposed a bargain, she looked back at him, a deep frown on her face. She didn't have much. Her father had been a poor book keeper and every cent he once had was gone by now. And she was sure that the preachers son would rather see her hang than pay the preacher for his silence. She thought worriedly for a moment, but an idea came to mind and reaching up, she unclasped the thin silver chain from around her neck, pulling it off and showing him the locket, "This is all I have. Any money I did have went to my father's burial a little over a month ago. My father gave it me the day I was born so I was hesitant to sell it. But it is good silver. It should get you some money." She knew it wasn't much, but it was all she had that was of value. Even if she didn't want to part from it, if it was the only way to keep him silent she would give it up.