Hi Doug the not narrator again. I can see you didn’t take my advise and proceed right to chapter 8. I understand, I’m a completist just like you. It took me 500 hours but I got every achievement in Stardew Valley. Also I like a story in chronological order.

  “Will Juliet finally yield?”

  I’ve spent the entire morning trying to make Juliet see sense, the stupid cow. I’m starting to get angry. She’s my character, why won’t she act the way I want her to? It’s maddening. You know men like Damon don’t grow on trees, Juliet. If you lived in my town, the big catch is the butcher. But you, Juliet, are driving Damon wild with desire. He’s no butcher, Juliet, he’s the perfect man. Don’t let him suffer for want of you. You’ll be sorry if his absolute need for you, like you were his air, Juliet, don’t let this gorgeous hulk of a man suffocate. Give him some air, Juliet.

  “Not before marriage, I’m not that kind of girl.”

  Oh, you cow, you keep this up, and I’m going to write you out and me in. I dream of the day when I get ravished, as Damon wants to ravish you right here, in the drawing room. Juliet, just imagine the ravishing.

  “Not before marriage.”

  If I write that you get married, then the story is over and I don’t get to see the ravishing, and I want to see the ravishing.

  “No ravishing before marriage.”

  Well, there is one way, Juliet.

  “If he takes me by force, I’ll hate him forever and I’ll kill myself.”

  No, I’d never do that, Juliet. I can just change your back story.

  “No, no, no, you can’t change my backstory. I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be Juliet anymore. Can’t you just have him ravish the maid? She’s French. I’ll bet she’s just dying to be ravished.”

  No, I can’t have him ravish a maid. That would debase him. All the debased men in the novels have forced their servants to submission, and it always comes to a cruel ending. I want a happily ever after.

  “Alright. If it can’t be a servant, how about my mother? She’s a Duchess. Nothing debasing there.”

  Your mother is married to your father. You want to make a cuckold of your father just to avoid being ravished? Are you mad?

  “No. I heard my mother complain to her sister that my father never ravishes her anymore, so we’d be doing them both a favor.”

  But she’s too old for Damon, and it’ll look bad to be ravishing the mother of the girl he longs to ravish. He might come to a bad end. If the Duke found out, it’d be pistols at dawn, and everyone knows that a Duke can lose a duel in a novel. It’s just not done.“Wait, how old is your Aunt? Could he ravish her? Is she married?”

  “My aunt’s almost fifty.”

  Well that’s too old. So we circle round and it’s back to you, Juliet.

  “Well you're the author. Can’t you write me a fifteen-year-old ravishable cousin?”

  Not unless your Uncle ravished someone fifteen years ago.

  “Rosie, Rosie!”

  “Coming, Ma.”

  Look, Juliet, I have to go. You think this over. Tomorrow morning, one way or another, you're getting ravished.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “How’s the novel coming, Rosie?”

  “It’s been fighting me all morning. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well you have a good think on your walk to your grandma’s. You’ll think of something and it’ll all work out fine in the end.”

  Hmmmm, I think I’ll have the butcher ravish Juliet. It’s not like he could get debased; he’s as low as you can aim for. Why can’t I meet my Damon? It just isn’t fair. I craft her the perfect man and she rejects him. Orrrr. Instead of having the butcher ravisher, I’ll marry ‘little miss not till after marriage’ off to the damned Preacher. That’d serve her. Then she’ll never get ravished. That’ll destroy her.

  “Are the woods dangerous?”

  When I was in the town market square this morning, they had some lovely string beans on sale at bargain prices. I think they are supposed to be good for you. So I bought a basket for Rose’s granny, and I’m headed into the woods to watch for her. She should be coming along soon. I hurry to granny’s and leave the basket on her doorstep. That’s when I smell her, that glorious, glorious scent. Rose, with her basket of cookies. I hurry to where she is.

  I hear something near her, in the woods. I redouble my speed. It’s only a hedgehog, who scurries quickly away when she catches my scent. Rose looks stunning, she always looks stunning, but today she looks especially stunning. I hope someday I’ll get to meet her, but she never comes into the tavern, and I can’t meet her out here. She’d be frightened. Well, at least I can hope. I follow her right to the door, wait to hear granny answer. Rose asks how she’s feeling.

  “Pretty good for an old Lady.”

  Same questions, same answers. I’ve noticed that with old people, nothing seems to change too much until something drastic happens and then everything changes. It’s almost dark when Rose appears again in the doorway. Now we’ll have our solitary walk back to town. We get about halfway when I hear Rose stumble, cry out, and I get the scent of human blood.

  I’m standing over her, scanning the forest for predators who’d been alerted to injured prey. I smell them before I hear them. When I do hear them, I think there are three of them.

  “Please stay behind me. There are wolves, and they’ll be here soon. But don’t worry, when I hurt the alpha, they’ll all run away.”

  That’s when they arrived and started to circle. The alpha was a very old male, but he still looked strong and smart, because when he caught my scent, he stopped circling, showed submission, let out a little bark, and the three wolves bounded back into the forest.

  “What just happened? Why didn’t they attack?”

  “They just didn’t like the odds. They smelled your blood and thought you were badly injured, but when they arrived you were already on your feet and there was a second person. They’re just a small pack: an old male, a younger female, and her young.”

  “Wow, you know a lot about wolves. Thank you for saving me. I don’t know what I’d have done on my own. Are you heading back to town?”

  “Yes. How about I help you walk? That’s a long gash and it’ll hurt putting weight on the leg. There’s a little spring just over here. Let’s get you over there and I’ll clean and bandage your wound so it heals properly.”

  I never expected to speak with her, let alone clean and bind her knee for her. It was so wonderful touching her. Her skin was so soft. I was marveling at it when she asked, “Will it be okay?”

  “Oh yes, it’ll be fine. I just wanted to make sure it was clean and the bandage was tight. Put your arm around my neck, or my waist might be better. I’m quite a bit taller than you are.”

  “Yes, you are. Are you sure it’s alright?”

  “Oh yes, it’ll be fine. It’s starting to get proper dark. I should get you back to town. I’m Lu, by the way. Lupinia, actually, but everyone calls me Lu.”

  “Well, thank you for saving me, Lu. I don’t know what I ever would have done without you. I’m Rose Ryding.”

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Rose.”

  We started back to the path, and it felt like heaven having Rose hug me for support, but I could hear her whimper in pain each time she placed weight on her injured leg. When we got to the path, I turned my back to her and said, “Hop on. I’ll give you a piggyback ride. I know that leg hurts. I can see the tears glisten in your eyes. I was born on a farm, and my Da always told me I was strong as an ox. Then he’d say, 'next year I’m going to strap you to the plow instead of our ox Gus.'”

  “Well, if you’re sure. If I’m too heavy, just say so, and I’ll get down right away.”

  “You won’t be too heavy, I promise.”

  She jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck. I grabbed her legs and began walking down the path towards town. Rose’s breasts bounced up and down on my back like warm, soft drumsticks, keeping a beat. And what a wonderful rhythm it was, thump, thump, thump. Her sweet breath on my neck tickled the back of my ears in the most delightful way. I’m so sorry that she was hurt, but I might have had the best day of my life. I almost carried her all the way to her house, realizing before it was too late, I asked where she lived. She gave me directions and all too soon we were at her house. I squatted and gently lowered her down. She thanked me again for saving and carrying her. She asked where I lived and told her this week I’m at the Black Dog. She asked me in to dinner, but I was due at the Dog if I wanted a place to sleep tonight. I told her I wished I could but I had to work, but I hope to see you again sometime.

  “What's the School of Rock?”

  Seeing and talking to Juliet, my memory betrayed me. I should have stayed for dinner. The Official Battle of the Bards contest is on tonight at the Black Dog. Every three months this comes around. I’ve never won. I’ve never even come close. I do well on the histories of old songs, it’s just the ones I need to compose on my own, the deeds of the day songs, that are holding me back because I can’t rhyme. It was another beating I took. After the first round, the Histories, I was actually in the lead, but I knew it wouldn’t continue. After the deeds of the day round, I was dead last.

  The third and final category, the Pure Note, you had to sing the Pure Note and hold it for at least 30 seconds. The longer the Pure Note continued, the more points you accumulated. I did pretty well, ahead of about half the other Bards. But when all the points were counted, I came in second from last, beating only Mastat Mineguard, a dwarf who couldn’t sing, didn’t know any of the histories, and only beat me in deeds of the day because he happened to know a dirty limerick that rhymes and could be spoken instead of sung.

  I was usually depressed for about a week after losing the Battle, but tonight, it only took seven minutes instead of seven days because today I’d met Rose. She was everything I knew she’d be: kind and funny and ooohh so beautiful, and soft, so soft, and those breasts bouncing on my back. Actually, I think I was depressed for about seven seconds, not seven minutes. When I hit the hay, literally, I kept going over and over our encounter: how nice, and beautiful, and soft, and bouncy, and around again. When I finally did sleep, I had the sweetest dreams. Oh, I have to see her again.