Derrick stared at the Hnefatafl piece. Outside, the sky had darkened with threats of a storm. Taylor called him back over. 

“We need to leave soon if we’re going to catch the bus back,” he said. Kally booed from the pit where she was once again circling the walls. Derrick wondered what she saw that was so fascinating. 

“I wouldn’t mind driving you three back,” Dr. Allen offered. “It’s not too far out of the way. At least you’ll miss the rain.”

“If you could, that’d be nice.” Taylor wandered over to harass Kally away from the unit. She waved emphatically and dodged, still mumbling over the dimensions and making theories. Derrick knew once she was focused on something, only an act of God could move her now. But Taylor seemed willing to try. 

It was like watching kindergarteners play tag. Taylor would try to pull Kally away, and she’d dodge or duck to avoid him. It was a testament to their professionalism that, despite the chaos, they never stood on the delicate edge of the wall. 

While Taylor seemed willing to let her play around, even his patience wore thin after the sixth time she avoided him. So, like any well-intentioned friend that wanted to avoid being caught in the rain, he grabbed her around the middle and hefted her over his shoulder. 

Because of his usual bulky sweaters and quiet personality, Derrick often forgot that Taylor was well-muscled and regularly lifted weights. Kally was loud, but she was also slim and on the shorter side. There was no contest on who would win a battle of strength. 

“Where are you parked, Dr. Allen?” he asked once Taylor carted his wiggling classmate over to them. Kally screeched at decibels only dogs should be able to hear. Taylor and Derrick both ignored her. Dr. Allen looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Down by the gate.” He handed them a keychain with ‘Blame Binford’ printed in bold letters on a metal plate. “Third car on the right. Go ahead and pile in. I’ll be down after I lock up.”

“Of course.” Taylor nodded at Derrick to accept the key, and they started trotting down the driveway. 

“Let me down,” Kally demanded when they nearly reached the bottom. 

“If you behaved, this wouldn’t be necessary,” Taylor snapped. 

“‘Behave’, my ass,” Kally yelled. She leaned down and pinched Taylor just under his ribs. It must have hurt because he flinched so hard, she went sprawling. She stood up and dusted herself off, muttering about stupid men. 

A line of vehicles greeted them at the end of the drive. Most bore stickers and decals promoting the site, but a few looked like personal use cars and trucks. As Dr. Allen instructed, they piled into the third car on the right, a red, four-door sedan covered in bumper stickers for everything from state parks to presidential candidates. There was also a bigfoot sticker in the corner that said ‘Believe’. 

“I want to look at the bone photos when we get back,” Kally declared. She roughly jammed the key into the ignition and turned on the heat. She’d claimed the front seat due to ’emotional distress’, but Derrick thought it was kind of pointless since she’d just turned around to talk to them as soon as she sat down. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“I had a thought earlier, before I was manhandled,” she said while glaring at Taylor. “I want to see if the research we’ve been doing matches with what I remembered. Plus,” she paused. “One of those plaques had something interesting.” 

No matter how they prodded, Kally refused to disclose her thoughts and ignored them once Dr. Allen joined them in the car. 

Maggie’s house was silent when they arrived. A note on the counter explained why. Apparently, one of her students was panicking about their doctoral thesis. She wanted to spend some time with them to help them through it.

“If she’s going to be out until tomorrow,” Taylor began. He looked between them and the empty house. It felt much colder without the older woman there. “Should we have a pint? We haven’t done a lot of sightseeing since getting here.” 

Derrick was all for it, and Kally agreed with a sniff in Taylor’s direction. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. The blond strands stuck up awkwardly, making him look crazed and exposing the freckles on his forehead. 

“I’m sorry for grabbing you earlier,” he mumbled. “I’ll buy your drinks tonight if it’ll make you feel better.” Immediately, Kally brightened and faced him with a smile. 

“That’s so sweet of you,” she gushed. “Of course. I’ll let you buy my drinks.” She sounded overly cheerful and bubbly, but at least it was teasing rather than malicious.

“Mine too?” Derrick asked, just to poke at Taylor further. The glare he got in return made him back down with a nervous smile. “I’ve got cash,” he amended. 

The rain hadn’t followed them back to town yet, so they walked to the nearest pub and grabbed a table in the corner. Derrick tried the fisherman’s pie while Kally and Taylor split a plate of steak and chips. Once their food arrived and they’d finished a pint of beer each, Kally rummaged around in her messenger back and slapped a pile of papers between them on the table. 

“Back to my history headcannon from earlier,” she began.

“Your hypothesis, you mean,” Derrick grumbled. He hated fanfic terms being where they shouldn’t. He hated fanfiction. The fact it was his girlfriend’s second-favorite hobby was something he ignored as best he could. 

“My history headcannon,” Kally repeated with a smirk. “Our gal pals were at that settlement. At least temporarily.” 

“Why?” Taylor asked around a mouthful of fried fish.

“Do you remember the descendant in Kingsly’s book?” she paused and snapped her fingers. “It was chapter four, I think? The guy was talking about the Witch Hunt?” They both nodded. Kally drenched her fries in vinegar before continuing. 

“Well, he was, like, the only one who hated Gunnar, right? Cause of some family history that went back to Iceland or whatever. Well…” She shoveled a few fries in her mouth and pushed some pages over to them. “Some of those artifacts earlier got me thinking about that. Then there’s this.” 

The papers displayed a few grave goods from their dig. Namely, a necklace and bracelet combo. Both had blue and purple glass beads. The second page had some information regarding the site they’d been at earlier. It listed another set of jewelry, a pair of bracelets, discovered during the first rounds of excavation. 

“The jewelry?” Derrick asked. 

“Same color beads, same style of metalwork,” Kally pressed. “Hell, they could even be from the same set.” She pulled out another piece from the pile. This was a scanned copy of the pages from Kingsly’s book she’d been referring to. “He said his family had bad blood with Gunnar because he drove them from Iceland.”  

“You’re thinking it’s Ingrid?” Taylor plucked the photos from the pile and scanned them. “I agree. The jewelry looks very similar. And we know that Gunnar was fascinated with Ingrid, but to follow her from Iceland?” 

“Simp?” Derrick asked. He stole one of their fries and dipped it in some leftover pie filling.

“The guy tried to get her arrested for witchcraft,” Kally mused. “That’s psycho, not simp, behavior.” 

Taylor looked up from the paper. “‘You have something I want,'” he said in a flat, nondescript American accent. “What if he wanted something from her, and when she didn’t want to marry him, he changed tactics?” 

Kally frowned. “Moff Gideon here has a point,” she agreed. 

“Okay,” Derrick paused and swallowed half of his second pint. The imperial stout was delicious and made him feel fuzzy, but he pushed through it and gestured for paper and a pen. Once they were handed over, he began scribbling. “Our current theory is Ingrid leaves Iceland, lands in Orkney with her thrall. They settle down until Gunner comes back like a fungus and starts a witch hunt. They leave again and turn up dead on the Scottish Mainland,” Kally nodded and Taylor flipped the paper toward himself. 

“While we don’t have proof of it,” he acknowledged. “It’s pretty easy to make the leaps.” 

“It’s full of holes,” Derrick points out, a little louder than he meant to be. Maybe that beer was affecting him more than he thought. He attempted to lower his voice before continuing. “First, this descendant in the book. Whose descendant is he?” He glanced between Taylor and Kally. “There’s no record of them having kids, was there?” Taylor shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be evident on the bones either,” he admitted. 

“Then why consider this guy’s story when it’s just circumstantial, half-remembered family history?” 

“Because they were buried,” Kally interrupted, suddenly serious. They both looked at her. In the dim pub light, she seemed small and sad. Taylor, without thinking, reached over and ran a hand across her shoulders. She leaned into him with a small smile before continuing. “Someone knew they died.” Her voice firmed as she continued. “They knew their relationship and wanted them to be buried together, holding each other. Someone surrounded them with their life and carefully put them to rest. Every inconsistency in that grave, the cross, the game, the weapons, and the craft tools, was deliberate.” 

“They weren’t alone,” Taylor mumbled. Kally nodded. 

“Even if they didn’t have descendants,” she defended. “Somebody was there and took care of them after death. So, I can’t discount that ‘circumstantial’ interview. Not when no one else seems to have a reason to hate Gunnar except this guy and Ingrid.” 

Derrick hesitated. Despite his misgivings, something told him this was important to Kally. He didn’t want to hurt her by shitting all over her theory.

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “We’ll look into it tomorrow, okay?”

Kally nodded and blinked down at her fries which were cold.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“You three are lookin’ a’ Gunnar?” a deep voice asked.