Greta would never have characterized Anne as incurious — she's seen Anne steer herself into too many odd and unfamiliar situations (to her, at least) for that. But Anne is so guarded that Greta doesn't often see such curiosity on open display, and she glances over in slight surprise before looking back to her work, a smile tugging at her lips.

"It wasn't so different from being here, really," she replies. "You might know people with some degree of magic, and you might leave out offerings for whatever might be living on your property just to be on the safe side. But if you were lucky, you could keep your head down and get on with things."

She pauses for a moment, mulling it over. Time here has made her complacent, she supposes: it's been ages since she had to explain how things worked back home to anyone, and ages since she's worried that she might be explaining it badly. The words come more slowly as she continues. "There were rules. Not written, necessarily, but passed down all the same. Things you could do to stay safe, or... unnoticed. Don't stray from the path, don't talk to the wolf — that sort of thing. Don't steal from a witch's garden."

Her smile has faded by now, and she snorts, soft and humorless. "But you can do everything just right and still get roped into something. Much like here."