You had just moved into the neighborhood a few days ago, buying the smallest house on the outskirts of town near the edge of the forest. This left you with only one neighbor, and you wanted to introduce yourself.You had yet to see your neighbor, but the name, Shownu, was painted on the side of the mailbox out front. Most everything you owned was unpacked, or at the very least stacked in small piles of boxes around the house. You had just finished putting away your small collection of cookbooks, when your favorite one caught your eye. Passed down through the many bakers and cooks in your family, handwritten recipes for various baked goods lined each well-worn page. Flipping through the pages, you stopped on one you had added your own twist to. Feeling inspired and making sure you had all the ingredients you’d need, you quickly set to baking. Rolling up your sleeves and putting on your special kitchen-magic apron, you began meticulously rolling out dough, cutting, measuring, and refining until finally you could sit for awhile while the small pie finished baking. Soon, the all too familiar smell of fresh fruit simmering with sugar and spices wafted from the oven and enveloped your house in cheery comfort. Time passes as you wash the dishes and set up a cooling rack for the baking pie. You have just enough time to open the kitchen window and spread some birdseed on the sill when the kitchen timer goes off. Still in your apron and donning a pair of warm oven mitts, you pull the small pie from the oven and set it fondly on the cooling rack. You smile with pride upon seeing the ruins you carved into the pie crust, still very clear an visible albeit a little stained from the pink and red juices still bubbling from within the pie. You watch the steam rise from the runes cut in the crust, anzuz for life and wunjo for joy. 

       While the pie cools, you finish organizing more of the little kitchen, and go through some of the smaller boxes left on the table in the eating nook. By the time 3:30 rolls around you have found the perfect basket for the pie, and feel confident it is cool enough to deliver to your neighbor. Nestling the pie in the blanket padded basket and tying a bow of silver ribbon on the handle, you sit down to write a short note to accompany the gift. 
Hello Shownu,
I’ve recently moved into the neighborhood, and I’d like to introduce myself. I’m y/n and I noticed you have some charms hanging around your yard. I’m relatively new to witchcraft, and I heard this town has a number of witches already established here. I’m hoping to meet you all eventually! Also, no worries about the magic I used for the pie, I stuck to what I know and didn’t try an