Free Written in Stone by Ellery Adams Page B

that.” She looked at Olivia closely, her expression softening. “Can we
     help?”
    Normally, Olivia would have refused the offer, determined to solve any and all problems
     without assistance, but the memory jug was a complete enigma and she decided that
     a few extra sets of eyes could be useful. Not only that, but by talking to her friends
     about Munin, she kept the old woman in the here and now. Kept her from disappearing.
    “I hope so.” Olivia explained who Munin was and how she’d been found dead, half submerged
     in the stream behind her home.
    “How awful!” Laurel put her hand over her mouth and shuddered. “To die from a snakebite
     all alone like that. Isn’t it horribly painful?”
    Harris nodded. “Yeah. It’s not a good way to go. No wonder you’re upset, Olivia.”
    “Millay was right. There’s more to it than that,” Olivia said. “Munin was known as
     a fortune teller of sorts. During my visit, she spoke of death coming to the forest.
     The Croatan National Forest.” She spread her hands. “Normally, I wouldn’t pay the
     slightest attention to that kind of mumbo jumbo, but now I’m wondering if she knew
     she was in danger.”
    “Munin, huh?” Millay pulled her boots back on and began to slowly lace them up. “I’ve
     heard all kinds of stories about her, mostly after midnight during a weekend shift
     at Fish Nets. That’s when the real drunks are just getting their second wind. They
     start one-upping each other with tall tales at about one thirty in the morning, and
     her name’s been dropped more than once. People said she was a witch.”
    “A witch?” Laurel’s eyes opened wide.
    Millay shrugged. “The fishermen say she could predict the season’s weather better
     than Doppler radar. Warned one of them about Ophelia turning into a hurricane and
     bearing down on Oyster Bay before she was still a tropical storm in the Caribbean.”
     Millay paused, and a moment passed as the group recalled the havoc Ophelia had wreaked
     upon their town. “Back when computers weren’t around,” she continued, “the wives would
     go to see Munin before letting their husbands go out on long and risky trips. If the
     witch said they shouldn’t go, the women would pitch a fit until the men stayed put,
     even if it meant going hungry. ‘Hungry’s better than dead’ is a phrase I hear all
     the time from these guys.”
    Harris had closed his spiral notebook and slid it into a black laptop case. He glanced
     up at Olivia from his place on the couch. “Why did you visit her, Olivia? I can’t
     see you traipsing through the swamp to get a weather forecast.”
    Reluctantly, Olivia told them the truth. “She asked me to come. I wouldn’t have gone
     but she claimed to have met my mother once. I guess she also wanted to give me the
     jug, but I don’t know why she gave it to me.” She hesitated and then, in a very low
     voice, amended the latter phrase. “Well, she told me why, but it’s going to sound
     really strange.”
    Millay snorted. “This dysfunctional little group has seen plenty of strange. Lay it
     on us.”
    “The jug is supposed to provide clues,” Olivia said, moving toward the door in preparation
     to leave the cottage and walk the short distance to her house.
    “To what? The witch’s own death?” Harris furrowed his brows in confusion.
    Olivia shook her head over the absurdity of it all. “She said death would come to
     the forest and that I’d find answers I was seeking on the jug. I told you it was bizarre.”
    “Why you?” Laurel asked.
    “Apparently, my mother had been kind to her once and she wanted to repay that kindness
     through me. There’s an object stuck to that piece of pottery that she knew I’d want.”
    Millay stood up and carried her empty beer bottle into the kitchen. “The guys at the
     bar mentioned her weird jugs. They said no one went to the witch without paying a
     price. Sometimes she asked for their wedding rings or photographs or