A few seconds after Cinaed caught a last, fleeting glimpse of the levitating dog, three aurors and Dazmond Wiedman, his feet touched solid ground.  Long, lush rows of rippling late-season barley stretched out on several sides of them, the tops of the grain rippling fluidly from a stiff, constant wind kicking off of the water.  Open sea stretched out behind him and curled around into a small, sheltered bay towards the North.  Just on the other side of the bay, the lights of a small town flickered against the darkness. 

There were no aurors - compared to the mess he'd left in the alley outside his pub, the night sea air was remarkably quiet and peaceful.  "Arrgh!" he growled as he pushed himself away from his dead wight tagalong.  "Feck!" 

This wasn't good.  In fact, this was turning out to be one massive, crazy mess.  And, how - or even if - he could clean it up was a complete mystery.  Considering, in the grand scheme of things, he hadn't actually done anything, he'd managed to break a good handful of laws in the last hour. 

"Can you get up?" he asked, turning towards the woman.  The sooner he was rid of her, the better.  "Where'd the bastard hit you?"

Apparating felt like she was being stuffed into the back trunk of a car, with no air and knives digging into her skin. She couldn’t think; could only scream, and just when the pain caused her to see stars, a CRACK sounded as Cináed and Maggie reappeared in the air.

Her captor pushed away from her but she was falling anyway, hitting the ground with a thud and rolling over once before coming to a stop. His grumbling and swearing fell on deaf ears. Maggie’s head felt like it would split into two and tears sprang to her eyes.

Someone was speaking to her but she couldn’t process it at the moment. “Go away,” she muttered weakly, lifting her hand to swat at whoever loomed over her- or at least, she meant to, but her arm wouldn’t move. Why wouldn’t it move?

A niggling sense of fear and dread started to rise up in her, threatening to remind her of what had happened in the last hour. Maggie pushed the feeling away, distracted by the fire spreading across her arms. Her arms felt like they were on fire and she couldn’t even move to put it out!

Maggie sucked in a breath, tasting salt in the air, though she had no idea where they were, yet. She whimpered and closed her eyes, ready to welcome the darkness that made her mind hazy and her limbs numb.

His living baggage wasn't being very helpful.  Another quick glance around the field confirmed they were, indeed, still alone.  The rows of wheat were rippling in the sea breeze, undisturbed by any gun-wielding Aurors.  Of course, Raynor could always still be here - if she wasn't wearing a witch's hat, she'd probably be swallowed by the grain.

 Cináed knew his destination would be far from a massive secret.  Between his father's involvement in the Death Eaters and subsequent incarceration to  Cináed's own, the Tawse family home showed up more than a few times in Ministry records.  The grounds still sported many of the wards, protections and charms that his father had afforded it, shortly after getting the Dark Mark burned on his arm.  In the light of the moon, the stand of fruit trees on the far end of the field shaded the house from view. 

“Go away”

"No objections there,"  Cináed answered, flatly.  Keeping a good grip on the wand,  Cináed slipped the knife securely through his belt at the small of his back.  He turned and started walking across the field towards the fruit trees. 

She wanted to be alone, she could be alone.  It could, hardly, be considered his fault if the woman died of her own stupidity.  In fact, surprisingly enough, despite all the posturing and threats, no part of her current condition was his doing.  The runespoor venom was Nate.  Her weakened muscles were - technically - the auror's doing.  One could argue that he'd facilitated that last one, but every bloke had a right to self-defense.  Had she not been loitering behind his pub, she wouldn't have been there to be used as a shield.  All that, really, could be blamed on him was (likely) the massive headache, some bruising on her scalp, a few lost strands of hair and a less-than-attractive hairstyle.

Oh - and, finding herself on a random stretch of coast in Scotland.

Blatantly ignoring the fact that he was responsible for her being left out, exposed to the elements, in a random barley field,  Cináed continued walking towards the edge of the field.  Surely, someone would find her before she kicked it.