“People in the mountains are a different breed. The land shapes the way they think, the way they feel. People down in the lowlands, they’re communal people—you can see your neighbor across the valley and you make a point to get together from time to time. In the mountains you’re isolated; every house is tucked away in some little hollow or ravine and people learn to take care of themselves—and they like to be left alone. This is old country; there are stories and legends about every corner of this place, and people have long memories here. Superstitions grow like weeds; somebody calls somebody else a witch, and pretty soon everybody believes it. That’s something else about the mountains— stories spread like wildfire here. Endor’s newspaper comes out twice a week, and people only read it to see if they got the story right.”

“Agnes seems to know a few stories,” Nick said.

Gunner smiled. “She knows them all.”

“So somebody called this woman a witch, and now everybody thinks she is one. Okay, I can understand that—what I don’t understand is why she calls herself one.”

He hesitated. “I’m in a bit of an awkward position here, Nick. People don’t have a lot of privacy around here, and I like to help protect what little they have.”

“Understood,” Nick said.

“But if you’d like to talk theology or philosophy or history, I’m your man. Drop by anytime—I’ll take you over to the ET&G and buy you a beer.”

“You people drink beer?”

“I’m a German Lutheran—we practically invented the stuff.”

“Thanks, I may take you up on that. By the way—I met the witch last night.”

Gunner’s face went blank. “Where?”

“Her place—and I’m going back tonight.”

He took off his glasses and wiped them with a tissue. “Mind if I give you a piece of friendly advice?”

“Not at all.”

“Be very careful.”

“Of what?”

“Just be careful—if not for your sake, then for hers.”

9

9

Nick slowly worked his way through the woods again, holding the flat white box in front of him. He stopped from time to time to listen, but at first detected nothing. Then he heard it: the soft padding of feet drawing steadily closer. He kept walking, knowing that if he stopped the dogs would stop too, and he didn’t want them to stop—he wanted to draw them in. Within a few minutes the first of the huge dogs came into view—then the second, then the third. They slowly drew closer, surrounding Nick and bringing him to a standstill just as they had done the night before.