Grulch Stoneback pressed his hand to the wall of his den and felt it crumble. The mud roof caved in with a wet slap, burying his sleeping mat. For forty years this hole at the bog's edge had kept him dry. Now it was gone, and the deep bog waited past it. Somewhere in there sat the hidden hollow the villagers had chased him from long ago. He wanted it back. But a swamp ogre needs a dry place to rest before a long march, and he had none. He hauled his humped back straight and cursed. Rain fell through the broken roof onto his shoulders. He was old, and his knees hurt, and he had nowhere to sit. He needed shelter fast, before dark, before the cold set in his joints. Grulch waded inward through black water. He passed reeds and sunken logs. Then he saw two things that made him stop. The first was a huge willow. Its long branches hung down like green ropes. Bright acid dripped from every leaf and hissed into the water below. A drop struck a floating log and ate a hole clean through it. Grulch stepped back. No shelter there. The second thing was worse and better. A stone well squatted on a patch of solid mud. It was carved to look like a grinning skull. Two red lights glowed deep in its eye sockets. Old marks covered the stone. A rope held a wooden bucket over the black mouth. Green light rose from inside. Grulch knew a cursed thing when he saw one. But the ground around the well was dry and firm. It was the only dry spot for a mile. He was too tired to care about curses. He sat down against the skull's jaw. The stone was warm. That should have frightened him. Instead he closed his eyes. Then a voice came up from the well. It was thin and wet, like water sliding over teeth. "Make a wish, old ogre. One wish. I grant them all." Grulch spat into the grass. "I wish you'd shut your stone mouth." The green light flared. The bucket rattled on its rope. "A pity," the voice said. "You want your hollow back. I can feel it in you. I can put you at its door tonight." Grulch opened one eye. The well knew his goal. That meant it had listened, or it had watched, long before now. "Wishes cost," he said. "I'm not a fool." "Then rest," the voice purred. "Rest here as long as you like." Grulch grunted and let his head fall back. He would take the dry ground and nothing else. He slept. He woke stiff and cold. The rope was wrapped twice around his ankle. The bucket hung empty. And the dry mud he had trusted was now a slow, sucking pit, pulling his boots down toward the green mouth of the well.