Granny staggered on a little, and stopped in a puddle of black water that began to rise over her boots. “Can you forget?” she said. “Pardon?” “You wouldn’t be so unkind as to pass on to anyone else the ramblings of a poor ol’ woman who was probably off her head, would you?” said Granny, slowly. Oats thought for a moment. “What ramblings were these, Mistress Weatherwax?” Granny seemed to sag with relief. “Ah. Good thing you asked, really, bein’ as there weren’t any.” Black bubbles arose from the bog around Granny Weatherwax as the two of them watched each other. Some sort of truce had been
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