Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
The joke was sharp enough that Holo seemed to have difficulty knowing whether to be angry or not. A complicated expression passed over her face before she puffed her cheeks out and turned away.
"I'm sure they'd be happy to get even a bit of wisdom. They've gotten into farming without even knowing what a sheepfold is. Isn't there something you could tell them?" Lawrence then added, "The happier they are, the easier my work will be."
Holo looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears—"such cunning tricks you use," they seemed to say. "Hn..."
"Come, you needn't agonize so. Surely there's some small thing you could teach them," Lawrence said with a smile, which made Holo close her eyes in thought.
Her brow wrinkled, and her ears flicked back and forth beneath her hood.
She really was too honorable for her own good.
Still smiling, Lawrence turned his gaze away from Holo, directing it lazily upward at a bird flying overhead. Just then—
"Mr. Lawrence!"
Hearing the sound of his name being called, Lawrence looked back at the village.
"Mr. Lawrence!"
The voice coming from behind him was the village elder's.
"Ah, sorry, my translation isn't yet..."
"No, no—I know we've already burdened you with work, and it pains me to admit it, but there's another matter I'd like to ask you about..."
"Another matter?" Lawrence made an effort to hide his excitement, given the village's current difficulty in obtaining goods. He stole a glance at Holo, whose face was sulky and uninterested. "Well, if there's anything I can do, I'll be happy to."
It would have been a lie for him not to smile here.
The village elder seemed enormously relieved at Lawrence's open smile. "Oh, thank goodness. I'm so grateful. Truth be told, the village has recently had more and more problems like the one you saw yesterday. I was hoping we could borrow your wisdom..."
"...My wisdom?" asked Lawrence, still smiling.
At this the elder explained the problem, a look of utter desperation on his face.
Lawrence hung his head, agonizing over the amount of parchment on the desk before him that had yet to be translated.
The problem that the elder had brought to him was, in fairness, something common to all villages. But older communities had long-established ways to resolve such problems—be it divine decree, the authority of the village elder, a certificate from a nearby lord, or a village assembly whose decisions were absolute.
But this village had none of those.
When a newly established community collapsed, the cause was often a lack of a strong force bringing people together. Those were the difficult circumstances this village found itself in, and it was amid such circumstances that they presented Lawrence with their problem. Unsurprisingly, it concerned land divisions.
Evidently the lord had only vaguely defined the village territory and then left it up to individuals to decide how to divide it up into the amounts they had each been allotted.
And that was the problem.
They had been allotted a certain size, but nothing about the physical arrangement of those parcels had been written down.
"So everyone just chose bits of land here and there, and we didn't realize we needed a common point of reference until disputes started happening."
"Right. When the village was just starting out, there was enough land that there wouldn't be problems right away. But without a starting reference, you end up with small slivers of land where nobody knows who they belong to—if I drew a map it'd be plain as day."
"I should think tearing a piece of flatbread into pieces would make a better example than any map," said an amused Holo as she sat on the desk.
"Oat bread, you mean? I doubt they'd find such tough stuff tasty."
"I suppose I wouldn't claim it's delicious if you asked me, but that texture is addictive. My fangs do itch for it from time to time...," said Holo with a grin, flashing her sharp fangs.
Lawrence couldn't help but flinch a bit.

Output:
"Huh?" replied Lawrence innocently.
Holo poked him in the chest with her finger. "Their poison's already working on me."
After a chicken walking around outside clucked three times, Lawrence looked back down at his work, whereupon Holo gave his leg an irritable kick.
"Are you saying your work's more important than I am?"
"Of course."
"Wha—" Holo let slip in spite of herself, and when Lawrence saw her wide eyes and pricked-up ears, he realized he'd misspoken.
"No, what I mean is that if I can't help the villagers, they won't be indebted to me. Our profit depends on that, but I can talk with you later..."
"You'd best hope my good graces aren't so limited!" spat Holo, then turned away.
Lawrence was quite confident in his ability to charm those he'd deal with for only a short time, but such superficial treatment wouldn't work on Holo.
And yet the village elder had given Lawrence the authority to solve the village's most important problem. If he couldn't rise to the challenge, the despairing village would surely never trust him with all their trade.
Money couldn't buy love, it was true, but obligation could purchase money.
"..." Lawrence couldn't find the words to reply to Holo, even as he couldn't very well afford to dismiss the problem before him. Sitting at the desk, he was very literally at a loss for words.
He had never encountered a problem like this during his time alone as a traveling merchant. He doubted his old master would have been able to tell him how to solve it, either.
After weighing everything, the key would be to understand which was the weightiest. Having determined that much, Lawrence was about to speak when—
"You truly are a fool. 'Tis enough to make me wonder whether you have any aptitude for study at all."
Sitting as she was upon the desk, Holo's head was naturally higher than Lawrence's, so it was no surprise that he found her high-handedness a bit irritating. But something about the color of Holo's red-tinged amber irises said she would brook no argument.
Reason did not enter into it. He had learned this from hard experience during his travels with her.
"What did I just tell you? What did I just endure such embarrassment to tell you? I am right here, and yet you toil away there, alone..."
"Ah..."
She was right—they had just discussed that.
Holo had felt hesitant because she'd had nothing to do, and yet here again Lawrence was working alone.
She glared at him resentfully. What she needed from Lawrence was not an apology, but a request.
"Might I...er...borrow your wisdom?" He stumbled slightly over the words as Holo watched him through half-lidded, stoic eyes.
Her tail flicked back and forth as though weighing rejection against agreement. Finally she heaved a sigh. "I suppose I might be the biggest fool of all," she said.
Lawrence was about to ask what she meant, but Holo kept talking, so he straightened up and listened.
"Hmph. Truth be told, all my wisdom amounts to is what I learned in that vexing village of Pasloe."
"...Stone or wood markers can be moved, so we can't use those. Even if we put the boundaries in writing, verifying the position of those boundaries is just another thing to argue about."
Of course only God could create a perfect solution, but what Lawrence needed was something that everyone could acknowledge as being fair. And since they'd gone to the trouble of asking him for help, if all he could propose were obvious solutions, it would invite their despair rather than their trust.
Lawrence then wondered if Holo was going to show her true form, but just as the thought occurred to him, she punched him lightly. "Fool. Did you forget what it was that brought me to tears in Pasloe?"
So she wouldn't be providing divine intervention.
Which meant that the only option that remained would be to gather all the villagers together and show them where the reference point was, such that everyone would remember.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Huh?" replied Lawrence innocently.
Holo poked him in the chest with her finger. "Their poison's already working on me."
After a chicken walking around outside clucked three times, Lawrence looked back down at his work, whereupon Holo gave his leg an irritable kick.
"Are you saying your work's more important than I am?"
"Of course."
"Wha—" Holo let slip in spite of herself, and when Lawrence saw her wide eyes and pricked-up ears, he realized he'd misspoken.
"No, what I mean is that if I can't help the villagers, they won't be indebted to me. Our profit depends on that, but I can talk with you later..."
"You'd best hope my good graces aren't so limited!" spat Holo, then turned away.
Lawrence was quite confident in his ability to charm those he'd deal with for only a short time, but such superficial treatment wouldn't work on Holo.
And yet the village elder had given Lawrence the authority to solve the village's most important problem. If he couldn't rise to the challenge, the despairing village would surely never trust him with all their trade.
Money couldn't buy love, it was true, but obligation could purchase money.
"..." Lawrence couldn't find the words to reply to Holo, even as he couldn't very well afford to dismiss the problem before him. Sitting at the desk, he was very literally at a loss for words.
He had never encountered a problem like this during his time alone as a traveling merchant. He doubted his old master would have been able to tell him how to solve it, either.
After weighing everything, the key would be to understand which was the weightiest. Having determined that much, Lawrence was about to speak when—
"You truly are a fool. 'Tis enough to make me wonder whether you have any aptitude for study at all."
Sitting as she was upon the desk, Holo's head was naturally higher than Lawrence's, so it was no surprise that he found her high-handedness a bit irritating. But something about the color of Holo's red-tinged amber irises said she would brook no argument.
Reason did not enter into it. He had learned this from hard experience during his travels with her.
"What did I just tell you? What did I just endure such embarrassment to tell you? I am right here, and yet you toil away there, alone..."
"Ah..."
She was right—they had just discussed that.
Holo had felt hesitant because she'd had nothing to do, and yet here again Lawrence was working alone.
She glared at him resentfully. What she needed from Lawrence was not an apology, but a request.
"Might I...er...borrow your wisdom?" He stumbled slightly over the words as Holo watched him through half-lidded, stoic eyes.
Her tail flicked back and forth as though weighing rejection against agreement. Finally she heaved a sigh. "I suppose I might be the biggest fool of all," she said.
Lawrence was about to ask what she meant, but Holo kept talking, so he straightened up and listened.
"Hmph. Truth be told, all my wisdom amounts to is what I learned in that vexing village of Pasloe."
"...Stone or wood markers can be moved, so we can't use those. Even if we put the boundaries in writing, verifying the position of those boundaries is just another thing to argue about."
Of course only God could create a perfect solution, but what Lawrence needed was something that everyone could acknowledge as being fair. And since they'd gone to the trouble of asking him for help, if all he could propose were obvious solutions, it would invite their despair rather than their trust.
Lawrence then wondered if Holo was going to show her true form, but just as the thought occurred to him, she punched him lightly. "Fool. Did you forget what it was that brought me to tears in Pasloe?"
So she wouldn't be providing divine intervention.
Which meant that the only option that remained would be to gather all the villagers together and show them where the reference point was, such that everyone would remember.

Output:
An imprecise map indicating landmarks was good enough for a traveler, but what they needed now was a far more accurate depiction of land divisions within the village.
"Yesterday during that scuffle, you said that people's memories were too vague, did you not?"
"Huh? Er, yes, that's why this needs to be in writing."
"Hmm. I understand that people trust writing because once something's written, it won't change. But are people's memories really so untrustworthy?"
Lawrence didn't understand what Holo was getting at. He had no choice but to answer. "At the very least, when there's a dispute between two people, it's not objective to rely on anyone's memory. And when it comes to land, records must last years, even decades."
Holo listened to Lawrence's argument. "I suppose that's true," she said. Then she added, "But suppose you did something like this?" She smiled an amused smile, leaned close to Lawrence's ear, and whispered her solution.
Surprised, Lawrence looked up at her, and the wisewolf shook her head happily.
"As you say," she continued, "great landmarks like mountains, springs, or hills are too broad, but if you combine several, you can determine locations quite accurately. When I was in the mountains, I could tell where I was by what I could see from the ridge."
Even the villagers would be able to understand that—but with no good way to write it down, it would be another source of conflict. People could be especially emotional when it came to verifying borders, which made things doubly frustrating.
"However, it so happens that there are memories that everyone can agree upon."
Lawrence had to admit that with Holo's method, everyone would agree. And in any case, he didn't have any better ideas.
He stood from his chair and took Holo's hand.
Record keeping was always a difficult task. Stories of Holo's homeland of Yoitsu existed only because they had been written down and then kept within stone walls or basements. And only a small number of people could do that, so God only knew whether such records would survive the centuries.
And when it came to just how unreliable verbal records were, the endless vicious arguments surrounding them ought to have made that quite clear.
Lacking a good solution, would people simply abandon a conflict? Nay, such was not the way of the world.
Somehow, solutions would be found, and after decades of fighting, people would put forth great mental effort to find compromises that all involved could agree to.
And it was just such a solution that Holo had chanced to hear of during her time in the wheat fields.
"Mr. Lawrence, the villagers have all been assembled."
"Good work. Where's the representative?"
"By God's grace, there seems to be just one suitable person." The village elder had heard the plan from Lawrence, and his reaction had been just the same as Lawrence's when it had been conveyed to him by Holo. First, "Is that possible?" And then, "It just might be."
It required no special technique, nor tools, nor funds. And yet the resulting record would remain clear for decades, and all around would be able to agree on its meaning.
The elder quickly gathered the villagers around the village well, which had evidently been nominated as a reference point in the past.
Next, they had to pick who among them would be responsible for making the record.
After much deliberation, the executor chosen was Holo.
She had the distinction of being a neutral outsider, which, it was reasoned, would make her decision that much more effective.
The villagers had been told only they were assembling to decide their property lines, and as such, they showed faces filled with doubt. This was hardly a surprise given how hard they themselves had been working to find a solution that all would accept.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
An imprecise map indicating landmarks was good enough for a traveler, but what they needed now was a far more accurate depiction of land divisions within the village.
"Yesterday during that scuffle, you said that people's memories were too vague, did you not?"
"Huh? Er, yes, that's why this needs to be in writing."
"Hmm. I understand that people trust writing because once something's written, it won't change. But are people's memories really so untrustworthy?"
Lawrence didn't understand what Holo was getting at. He had no choice but to answer. "At the very least, when there's a dispute between two people, it's not objective to rely on anyone's memory. And when it comes to land, records must last years, even decades."
Holo listened to Lawrence's argument. "I suppose that's true," she said. Then she added, "But suppose you did something like this?" She smiled an amused smile, leaned close to Lawrence's ear, and whispered her solution.
Surprised, Lawrence looked up at her, and the wisewolf shook her head happily.
"As you say," she continued, "great landmarks like mountains, springs, or hills are too broad, but if you combine several, you can determine locations quite accurately. When I was in the mountains, I could tell where I was by what I could see from the ridge."
Even the villagers would be able to understand that—but with no good way to write it down, it would be another source of conflict. People could be especially emotional when it came to verifying borders, which made things doubly frustrating.
"However, it so happens that there are memories that everyone can agree upon."
Lawrence had to admit that with Holo's method, everyone would agree. And in any case, he didn't have any better ideas.
He stood from his chair and took Holo's hand.
Record keeping was always a difficult task. Stories of Holo's homeland of Yoitsu existed only because they had been written down and then kept within stone walls or basements. And only a small number of people could do that, so God only knew whether such records would survive the centuries.
And when it came to just how unreliable verbal records were, the endless vicious arguments surrounding them ought to have made that quite clear.
Lacking a good solution, would people simply abandon a conflict? Nay, such was not the way of the world.
Somehow, solutions would be found, and after decades of fighting, people would put forth great mental effort to find compromises that all involved could agree to.
And it was just such a solution that Holo had chanced to hear of during her time in the wheat fields.
"Mr. Lawrence, the villagers have all been assembled."
"Good work. Where's the representative?"
"By God's grace, there seems to be just one suitable person." The village elder had heard the plan from Lawrence, and his reaction had been just the same as Lawrence's when it had been conveyed to him by Holo. First, "Is that possible?" And then, "It just might be."
It required no special technique, nor tools, nor funds. And yet the resulting record would remain clear for decades, and all around would be able to agree on its meaning.
The elder quickly gathered the villagers around the village well, which had evidently been nominated as a reference point in the past.
Next, they had to pick who among them would be responsible for making the record.
After much deliberation, the executor chosen was Holo.
She had the distinction of being a neutral outsider, which, it was reasoned, would make her decision that much more effective.
The villagers had been told only they were assembling to decide their property lines, and as such, they showed faces filled with doubt. This was hardly a surprise given how hard they themselves had been working to find a solution that all would accept.

Output:
His hoarse voice nonetheless carried well, as he had once been a cowherd who worked cattle on wide-open plains.
"You have all been gathered here to bear witness to this and to remember the events of today should we be so unfortunate as to again quarrel over this matter."
Lawrence and Holo both kept their gazes downcast, and in Holo's case at least this made her look all the more demure and lovely.
She'd eaten and drunk only in moderation the previous night, so as far as the villagers were aware, she was every bit the pious nun she appeared to be, which made her the perfect person to execute the agreement.
The village elder coughed again and spoke. "The ceremony we are about to witness was delivered to us by these two wise travelers and has long been used to settle property. As elder of this village, I recommend this boy as the representative for the ceremony."
The elder then nudged forward a boy whose years could still be counted on one hand. His eyes were round and wide and his beautiful fair hair angelic.
Though he had not yet been told what he was to do, or perhaps what was to be done to him, he was surrounded by serious-faced adults. He was still with nervousness as the elder continued. "Are there any objections?"
While several villagers looked at one another, none raised a hand. This was not surprising given that none of them had been told the nature of the ceremony. Lawrence had explained that once it was complete, there would still be opportunity to hear from anyone who might feel it had been insufficient.
Lawrence and the elder agreed, though, that there would be no such complaints.
"Very well, then. Let us begin."
No one said a word.
The elder leaned down and whispered something into the boy's ear, then nudged him toward Lawrence and Holo.
The boy hesitated, looking back at the elder, then to Lawrence and Holo. The elder gestured for him to go, and the boy tremulously approached.
In a village like this that had so little contact with nearby towns, even an adult would be nervous around an outsider. As the boy came nearer, his nervous gaze alit on a particular spot in the assembled crowd.
It was clear who he had found, Lawrence thought. It was his mother.
"We thank you," said Lawrence with a smile and an outstretched hand as the boy walked up.
The boy hesitantly took the hand and mumbled a reply.
Lawrence then indicated Holo next to him.
Holo was relatively small framed, but the boy was even smaller. While Holo wore her hood and continued to look down, the boy could see her face as he approached.
The boy suddenly straightened and gave a shy little grin, and Lawrence could tell this was because Holo smiled at him.
When he shook hands with her, his expression turned suddenly friendly—perhaps there were no young girls in this village.
"My name's Holo. What's yours?"
"Ah—it's Clorri."
"Clorri, eh? 'Tis a good name."
The boy shied away ticklishly at the compliment and hair ruffle he received. The ceremony was probably the last thing on his mind at that moment, so happy he appeared.
"Now, then, Clorri, we're going to play a bit of a game. Don't worry, all will be well. 'Tis not difficult."
Holo's words brought him back to reality, and his face suddenly stiffened. But Holo gave him a gentle hug, which seemed to help him summon some courage. It seemed all men were alike, regardless of age.
"First, we face north and pray."
"Pray?"
"Aye. Any prayer will do. You pray every day in this village, do you not?" Holo had some small knowledge of the Church.
The boy nodded and brought his still-shaky hands together in preparation for prayer.
"The north has its own special angels and so does the south. If you pray for tasty food, you might just receive it," said Holo with a mischievous smile. "Try it," she encouraged him, and the boy began to pray.
"When the angels and spirits hear your prayers, there are omens. You need to remember very carefully the lay of the land, so you don't miss them."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
His hoarse voice nonetheless carried well, as he had once been a cowherd who worked cattle on wide-open plains.
"You have all been gathered here to bear witness to this and to remember the events of today should we be so unfortunate as to again quarrel over this matter."
Lawrence and Holo both kept their gazes downcast, and in Holo's case at least this made her look all the more demure and lovely.
She'd eaten and drunk only in moderation the previous night, so as far as the villagers were aware, she was every bit the pious nun she appeared to be, which made her the perfect person to execute the agreement.
The village elder coughed again and spoke. "The ceremony we are about to witness was delivered to us by these two wise travelers and has long been used to settle property. As elder of this village, I recommend this boy as the representative for the ceremony."
The elder then nudged forward a boy whose years could still be counted on one hand. His eyes were round and wide and his beautiful fair hair angelic.
Though he had not yet been told what he was to do, or perhaps what was to be done to him, he was surrounded by serious-faced adults. He was still with nervousness as the elder continued. "Are there any objections?"
While several villagers looked at one another, none raised a hand. This was not surprising given that none of them had been told the nature of the ceremony. Lawrence had explained that once it was complete, there would still be opportunity to hear from anyone who might feel it had been insufficient.
Lawrence and the elder agreed, though, that there would be no such complaints.
"Very well, then. Let us begin."
No one said a word.
The elder leaned down and whispered something into the boy's ear, then nudged him toward Lawrence and Holo.
The boy hesitated, looking back at the elder, then to Lawrence and Holo. The elder gestured for him to go, and the boy tremulously approached.
In a village like this that had so little contact with nearby towns, even an adult would be nervous around an outsider. As the boy came nearer, his nervous gaze alit on a particular spot in the assembled crowd.
It was clear who he had found, Lawrence thought. It was his mother.
"We thank you," said Lawrence with a smile and an outstretched hand as the boy walked up.
The boy hesitantly took the hand and mumbled a reply.
Lawrence then indicated Holo next to him.
Holo was relatively small framed, but the boy was even smaller. While Holo wore her hood and continued to look down, the boy could see her face as he approached.
The boy suddenly straightened and gave a shy little grin, and Lawrence could tell this was because Holo smiled at him.
When he shook hands with her, his expression turned suddenly friendly—perhaps there were no young girls in this village.
"My name's Holo. What's yours?"
"Ah—it's Clorri."
"Clorri, eh? 'Tis a good name."
The boy shied away ticklishly at the compliment and hair ruffle he received. The ceremony was probably the last thing on his mind at that moment, so happy he appeared.
"Now, then, Clorri, we're going to play a bit of a game. Don't worry, all will be well. 'Tis not difficult."
Holo's words brought him back to reality, and his face suddenly stiffened. But Holo gave him a gentle hug, which seemed to help him summon some courage. It seemed all men were alike, regardless of age.
"First, we face north and pray."
"Pray?"
"Aye. Any prayer will do. You pray every day in this village, do you not?" Holo had some small knowledge of the Church.
The boy nodded and brought his still-shaky hands together in preparation for prayer.
"The north has its own special angels and so does the south. If you pray for tasty food, you might just receive it," said Holo with a mischievous smile. "Try it," she encouraged him, and the boy began to pray.
"When the angels and spirits hear your prayers, there are omens. You need to remember very carefully the lay of the land, so you don't miss them."

Output:
North, east, south, west.
By the time he had prayed in each of the four directions, he'd no doubt thought of every tasty thing he could remember.
"Mm. Well done. Now then, Clorri."
It was time.
"The angels and sprits love smiles. Give them your biggest smile!"
The boy obediently grinned a huge, toothy smile.
There was the sound of something whistling through the air, then—a terrific smack rang out.
***
The assembled villagers all gasped audibly in unison as they looked on. To a one their gazes were nailed to the unfolding scene.
Holo shook her stinging hand and smiled sheepishly. She must not have held back at all.
She had bade the boy smile so he would not bite his tongue.
The boy's eyes were wide in shock at having been slapped across the face with such force, and he neither moved nor wiped the blood at his nose as he stared up at Holo, who until that moment had seemed so angelic.
"Though human memory is vague, there are moments that none of us can forget. This brave boy, Clorri, will surely remember the scenery he memorized today for years and decades to come," said Holo, smiling as she faced the villagers, whereupon a murmur finally rippled through the crowd.
They'd finally come back to the moment after being stunned so, and the murmur soon became a commotion, which then turned to laughter.
When they came to this village, the villagers had left behind their familiar former lands. Before setting out on the journey to their new home, surely each of them had stood at the edge of their former village or town, hearts full of worry and anticipation. There they would carve the sights in every direction into their memories before beginning their journey.
If later asked about it, they would be completely able to answer with perfect precision exactly where they had been that day, the day they turned back and looked at their homeland for the final time.
"If there be anyone who objects to this ceremony, raise your hand!" shouted the village elder, and the villagers fell silent and then shouted, "No!" in unison.
Villager after villager came up to offer words of thanks to Holo and to God, and some even danced.
Holo, the elder, and—quite naturally—the boy's mother all came up to him, and when he was given a hand and helped to his feet, he finally seemed to understand what had happened. He burst into tears like tinder set aflame, bawling away as he clung to his mother's generous bosom.
"In my old village, we didn't use slaps—we threw stones."
The mother—who was the only one who'd been told ahead of time what was to happen—half smiled, but seemed to feel genuine pride that her son had been chosen for such an important role. She thanked Lawrence and Holo both in God's name.
"Mm. Well, this should settle things," Holo said proudly, standing a little taller.
Villages everywhere commemorated the days of events important to them, most commonly with feasts. Jisahz was no different, and that night there was a grand celebration.
The village elder shook their hands so frequently in thanks that Holo's and Lawrence's palms began to swell, claiming that their names would go down in history as being of great importance to the village's development.
Given that, it was certain that maintaining a long-term relationship with the village would be no difficulty at all.
Lawrence was unable to keep his delight at this from reaching his face as they waited for evening to arrive and the villagers to complete their feast preparations.
When he raised both arms to stretch, he looked at Holo and saw her sprawled out on the bed, tending to her tail.
"Finished, are you?"
"Yes, somehow."
"Well, then, we can drink and carouse to our hearts' content."
"I still have to complete my business negotiations, though. Of course..." Lawrence paused and brought his hand deliberately to his breast, then continued in a courteous tone. "This is all thanks to my wise traveling companion."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
North, east, south, west.
By the time he had prayed in each of the four directions, he'd no doubt thought of every tasty thing he could remember.
"Mm. Well done. Now then, Clorri."
It was time.
"The angels and sprits love smiles. Give them your biggest smile!"
The boy obediently grinned a huge, toothy smile.
There was the sound of something whistling through the air, then—a terrific smack rang out.
***
The assembled villagers all gasped audibly in unison as they looked on. To a one their gazes were nailed to the unfolding scene.
Holo shook her stinging hand and smiled sheepishly. She must not have held back at all.
She had bade the boy smile so he would not bite his tongue.
The boy's eyes were wide in shock at having been slapped across the face with such force, and he neither moved nor wiped the blood at his nose as he stared up at Holo, who until that moment had seemed so angelic.
"Though human memory is vague, there are moments that none of us can forget. This brave boy, Clorri, will surely remember the scenery he memorized today for years and decades to come," said Holo, smiling as she faced the villagers, whereupon a murmur finally rippled through the crowd.
They'd finally come back to the moment after being stunned so, and the murmur soon became a commotion, which then turned to laughter.
When they came to this village, the villagers had left behind their familiar former lands. Before setting out on the journey to their new home, surely each of them had stood at the edge of their former village or town, hearts full of worry and anticipation. There they would carve the sights in every direction into their memories before beginning their journey.
If later asked about it, they would be completely able to answer with perfect precision exactly where they had been that day, the day they turned back and looked at their homeland for the final time.
"If there be anyone who objects to this ceremony, raise your hand!" shouted the village elder, and the villagers fell silent and then shouted, "No!" in unison.
Villager after villager came up to offer words of thanks to Holo and to God, and some even danced.
Holo, the elder, and—quite naturally—the boy's mother all came up to him, and when he was given a hand and helped to his feet, he finally seemed to understand what had happened. He burst into tears like tinder set aflame, bawling away as he clung to his mother's generous bosom.
"In my old village, we didn't use slaps—we threw stones."
The mother—who was the only one who'd been told ahead of time what was to happen—half smiled, but seemed to feel genuine pride that her son had been chosen for such an important role. She thanked Lawrence and Holo both in God's name.
"Mm. Well, this should settle things," Holo said proudly, standing a little taller.
Villages everywhere commemorated the days of events important to them, most commonly with feasts. Jisahz was no different, and that night there was a grand celebration.
The village elder shook their hands so frequently in thanks that Holo's and Lawrence's palms began to swell, claiming that their names would go down in history as being of great importance to the village's development.
Given that, it was certain that maintaining a long-term relationship with the village would be no difficulty at all.
Lawrence was unable to keep his delight at this from reaching his face as they waited for evening to arrive and the villagers to complete their feast preparations.
When he raised both arms to stretch, he looked at Holo and saw her sprawled out on the bed, tending to her tail.
"Finished, are you?"
"Yes, somehow."
"Well, then, we can drink and carouse to our hearts' content."
"I still have to complete my business negotiations, though. Of course..." Lawrence paused and brought his hand deliberately to his breast, then continued in a courteous tone. "This is all thanks to my wise traveling companion."

Output:
Of course, while this was only half-serious, the truth was she had been of great help to him. He owed her more than just a few chickens—a wagonload of ale would probably be about right.
"It seems I've wound up owing you the greater part yet again. How would you like your payment?" he asked jokingly, his heart dancing at the thought of the next day's negotiations. The village had great potential for further development, and if the abbey was completed, it might even become a true town.
"Mm...I can have anything?"
"'Anything' is a frightening promise to make, but let's say a hundred silver pieces. That would certainly get you another set of fine clothes like what you're wearing now."
Holo looked over her clothes carefully, then closed her eyes. What was she dreaming of? Apples? Honeyed peach preserves?
Holo's tail wagged, and then she seemed to hit upon something. But her face was hesitant, so whatever she was thinking of had to be something of significant value.
"If it's impossible, I'll give up on it, but..."
"That's surprisingly magnanimous of you," teased Lawrence, at which she smiled, then pointed at him.
"The work you were just now doing."
"Work? You mean this?"
"Yes, that writing work. You said if they'd asked someone in a town to do it, it would've cost a goodly amount."
Reading and writing were considered specialized skills in their own right. Writing a letter was itself a service, but creating an official document carried a commensurate price.
"Oh, you want me to write something for you?"
"Hmm? Er...well, aye..."
"If that's all, that's a small favor indeed. You want nothing else—no apples, no honeyed peach preserves?"
It was unusual for Holo to prize anything above food. After all the talk of record keeping, did she wish to record tales of her own homeland?
"Such things are surely tempting, but food once eaten is gone. You said it yourself—the written word does not change and endures for ages," she said, and her bashfulness as she did so made Lawrence realize he'd guessed correctly.
Lawrence nodded. "I can't write you a thick volume, though."
"Nay, 'twill not be such a long thing to write." Holo stood from the bed and lightly sat down on the table.
If it wouldn't be lengthy, did she want him to write it right now, this instant?
"So, what shall I write?" Lawrence asked.
Holo gazed into the distance and did not answer immediately.
Whatever it was, Lawrence realized it was very important, so he waited for her to answer.
Seemingly coming to a conclusion after long thought, Holo finally took a deep breath, a sound like a quiet wind.
"The title is this: the Wisewolf Holo's..." Lawrence hastily reached for his pen and spread an unused sheet of parchment out in front of him. Meanwhile, Holo continued speaking. "...Homecoming Guide Contract."
Lawrence's hand stopped, and his eyes fixed upon Holo, followed by his face as he slowly turned his head toward her.
"Human memories are unreliable, after all. I cannot have you forgetting your promise."
Holo's face was serious, and if anything it was her gaze that accused him.
Lawrence had no words. In his mind he saw a rapid succession of all the moments Holo had been displeased since their arrival in the village. She said she was being reluctant because she'd had nothing to do—but that was nothing more than a convenient excuse.
This was the truth.
His promise to take Holo back to her homelands was a mere verbal contract.
And yet here he was, busily doing work for the village and all the while talking about how fallible human memory was.
"N-no, that...but...," Lawrence finally said.
He could not put it easily into words, but Lawrence was confident that he prized his travels with Holo above any business he might do, and he had been certain that Holo knew that.
So while he could admit he had been insensitive, he found it hard to accept that that was why Holo was angry.
"But?" Holo shot back coldly.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Of course, while this was only half-serious, the truth was she had been of great help to him. He owed her more than just a few chickens—a wagonload of ale would probably be about right.
"It seems I've wound up owing you the greater part yet again. How would you like your payment?" he asked jokingly, his heart dancing at the thought of the next day's negotiations. The village had great potential for further development, and if the abbey was completed, it might even become a true town.
"Mm...I can have anything?"
"'Anything' is a frightening promise to make, but let's say a hundred silver pieces. That would certainly get you another set of fine clothes like what you're wearing now."
Holo looked over her clothes carefully, then closed her eyes. What was she dreaming of? Apples? Honeyed peach preserves?
Holo's tail wagged, and then she seemed to hit upon something. But her face was hesitant, so whatever she was thinking of had to be something of significant value.
"If it's impossible, I'll give up on it, but..."
"That's surprisingly magnanimous of you," teased Lawrence, at which she smiled, then pointed at him.
"The work you were just now doing."
"Work? You mean this?"
"Yes, that writing work. You said if they'd asked someone in a town to do it, it would've cost a goodly amount."
Reading and writing were considered specialized skills in their own right. Writing a letter was itself a service, but creating an official document carried a commensurate price.
"Oh, you want me to write something for you?"
"Hmm? Er...well, aye..."
"If that's all, that's a small favor indeed. You want nothing else—no apples, no honeyed peach preserves?"
It was unusual for Holo to prize anything above food. After all the talk of record keeping, did she wish to record tales of her own homeland?
"Such things are surely tempting, but food once eaten is gone. You said it yourself—the written word does not change and endures for ages," she said, and her bashfulness as she did so made Lawrence realize he'd guessed correctly.
Lawrence nodded. "I can't write you a thick volume, though."
"Nay, 'twill not be such a long thing to write." Holo stood from the bed and lightly sat down on the table.
If it wouldn't be lengthy, did she want him to write it right now, this instant?
"So, what shall I write?" Lawrence asked.
Holo gazed into the distance and did not answer immediately.
Whatever it was, Lawrence realized it was very important, so he waited for her to answer.
Seemingly coming to a conclusion after long thought, Holo finally took a deep breath, a sound like a quiet wind.
"The title is this: the Wisewolf Holo's..." Lawrence hastily reached for his pen and spread an unused sheet of parchment out in front of him. Meanwhile, Holo continued speaking. "...Homecoming Guide Contract."
Lawrence's hand stopped, and his eyes fixed upon Holo, followed by his face as he slowly turned his head toward her.
"Human memories are unreliable, after all. I cannot have you forgetting your promise."
Holo's face was serious, and if anything it was her gaze that accused him.
Lawrence had no words. In his mind he saw a rapid succession of all the moments Holo had been displeased since their arrival in the village. She said she was being reluctant because she'd had nothing to do—but that was nothing more than a convenient excuse.
This was the truth.
His promise to take Holo back to her homelands was a mere verbal contract.
And yet here he was, busily doing work for the village and all the while talking about how fallible human memory was.
"N-no, that...but...," Lawrence finally said.
He could not put it easily into words, but Lawrence was confident that he prized his travels with Holo above any business he might do, and he had been certain that Holo knew that.
So while he could admit he had been insensitive, he found it hard to accept that that was why Holo was angry.
"But?" Holo shot back coldly.

Output:
Holo suddenly smiled and chuckled. "But you seem penitent enough, so I'll forgive you."
Truth be told, he could have refuted her if he'd wanted to—and Holo surely knew that as well.
But instead he said this, just as she wanted him to: "...I'm sorry."
"Mm." Holo's ears twitched in satisfaction. "Still," she continued, her expression hardening again as she looked down at him.
Lawrence straightened and wondered what was coming next, and Holo leaned over him, her face drawing near to his.
"If a contract is no longer needed, then I can ask for some other reward for my services, can I not?"
Leaning away slightly, Lawrence nodded. That was only fair, he reasoned—but then he realized what Holo was thinking and raised his voice in spite of himself. "No, wait, you're not—"
"I wonder what one could buy with the fee to have such a travel contract written. Can I even eat that much...?" She grinned, delighted, her wagging tail nearly sweeping off everything on the desk.
There was no telling how long she might be waiting with one of her traps. Lawrence was utterly cornered by all the promises he'd made. There was no getting out of them now.
"Heh. You look just like poor Clorri did not long ago," Holo said, poking his nose. He didn't even have the strength to deflect her.
Holo hopped off the table, spun around, then leaned on Lawrence from behind the chair in which he sat.
"Will you now start to cry, eh?"
He had to smile. Lawrence stood up out of the chair and spoke. "That might not be such a bad idea. At least I've got someone who'll let me bawl at them."
Holo grinned.
Lawrence prepared himself for the consequences of what he was about to say next. "Assuming that small chest of yours can stand up to—"
A fine sound rang out.
Holo smiled as she shook out her stinging palm. Lawrence took her outstretched hand and straightened his reeling body.
All the while, Holo smiled—it was an obviously false smile, but Lawrence knew the magic that would turn it real. Her continuing smile was her way of urging him to cast the spell.
Slowly and deliberately, he began to chant the magic words.
"Now I'll never forget your smile."
Holo's tail puffed up, and she gripped his hand a bit more tightly.
After centuries in her old village, Holo had only her name left and was forgotten. No written words would suffice to record her smiling face. Outside, preparations for the feast continued. Surely the night would be a drunken one.
Holo nodded and smiled a faint, shy smile.
End.
***
In the depths of the coldest season, there were sometimes warm days that made one think that spring had arrived—days without wind, when standing still in the sun's rays could feel almost hot.
Such days made even merchants—for whom time was money—stop in their tracks or pull their wagons to the side of the road; find a field free of grazing cattle or sheep; and just lie in the grass, a bit of wine and rye bread at their side.
Gazing up at the blue sky, they'd wet their mouths with wine and take a bit of the bread—or perhaps even chewing was too much trouble, so they would fall asleep, mouths pathetically full of rye.
The blanket would soak up the sun's rays and feel as warm as though the merchants were by a roaring fireplace, and the only sounds that reached one's ears were birdsong and somehow the sound of the sunlight itself.
Only those who lived a life of travel could enjoy such moments.
And they were more than enough to inspire temptation.
It began with a map.
It was midmorning, the sun high enough to have burned away the urge to yawn, and Lawrence the traveling merchant, having grown weary of constant travel upon his horse-drawn wagon, opened up a map he rarely looked at.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Holo suddenly smiled and chuckled. "But you seem penitent enough, so I'll forgive you."
Truth be told, he could have refuted her if he'd wanted to—and Holo surely knew that as well.
But instead he said this, just as she wanted him to: "...I'm sorry."
"Mm." Holo's ears twitched in satisfaction. "Still," she continued, her expression hardening again as she looked down at him.
Lawrence straightened and wondered what was coming next, and Holo leaned over him, her face drawing near to his.
"If a contract is no longer needed, then I can ask for some other reward for my services, can I not?"
Leaning away slightly, Lawrence nodded. That was only fair, he reasoned—but then he realized what Holo was thinking and raised his voice in spite of himself. "No, wait, you're not—"
"I wonder what one could buy with the fee to have such a travel contract written. Can I even eat that much...?" She grinned, delighted, her wagging tail nearly sweeping off everything on the desk.
There was no telling how long she might be waiting with one of her traps. Lawrence was utterly cornered by all the promises he'd made. There was no getting out of them now.
"Heh. You look just like poor Clorri did not long ago," Holo said, poking his nose. He didn't even have the strength to deflect her.
Holo hopped off the table, spun around, then leaned on Lawrence from behind the chair in which he sat.
"Will you now start to cry, eh?"
He had to smile. Lawrence stood up out of the chair and spoke. "That might not be such a bad idea. At least I've got someone who'll let me bawl at them."
Holo grinned.
Lawrence prepared himself for the consequences of what he was about to say next. "Assuming that small chest of yours can stand up to—"
A fine sound rang out.
Holo smiled as she shook out her stinging palm. Lawrence took her outstretched hand and straightened his reeling body.
All the while, Holo smiled—it was an obviously false smile, but Lawrence knew the magic that would turn it real. Her continuing smile was her way of urging him to cast the spell.
Slowly and deliberately, he began to chant the magic words.
"Now I'll never forget your smile."
Holo's tail puffed up, and she gripped his hand a bit more tightly.
After centuries in her old village, Holo had only her name left and was forgotten. No written words would suffice to record her smiling face. Outside, preparations for the feast continued. Surely the night would be a drunken one.
Holo nodded and smiled a faint, shy smile.
End.
***
In the depths of the coldest season, there were sometimes warm days that made one think that spring had arrived—days without wind, when standing still in the sun's rays could feel almost hot.
Such days made even merchants—for whom time was money—stop in their tracks or pull their wagons to the side of the road; find a field free of grazing cattle or sheep; and just lie in the grass, a bit of wine and rye bread at their side.
Gazing up at the blue sky, they'd wet their mouths with wine and take a bit of the bread—or perhaps even chewing was too much trouble, so they would fall asleep, mouths pathetically full of rye.
The blanket would soak up the sun's rays and feel as warm as though the merchants were by a roaring fireplace, and the only sounds that reached one's ears were birdsong and somehow the sound of the sunlight itself.
Only those who lived a life of travel could enjoy such moments.
And they were more than enough to inspire temptation.
It began with a map.
It was midmorning, the sun high enough to have burned away the urge to yawn, and Lawrence the traveling merchant, having grown weary of constant travel upon his horse-drawn wagon, opened up a map he rarely looked at.

Output:
It was that map he held in his hand, casting his gaze eastward.
The road Lawrence and Holo were on ran alongside a forest for quite a long distance. Despite the road adjacent to it passing through mostly vegetation-free and featureless wilderness, the forest itself was thick and dark with trees year-round.
And yet even that thick forest had been cleared long ago to make room for the construction of a new town, Lawrence had heard, and now covered only half its original area. The map Lawrence held had been drawn when the forest was larger and showed just how great its former extent truly was.
"What is the matter?" asked Lawrence's traveling companion, Holo, noticing Lawrence's gaze as it traveled afield from her spot relaxing in the wagon bed.
Lawrence turned to see Holo dressed as a nun and reclining atop his cargo, her head tilted lazily in his direction.
"There's a lumber mill here."
"A lumber mill?"
"Or at least there used to be. A place where trees are cut down and their trunks made into lumber for building."
But Lawrence's interest wasn't in the forest's former grandeur. His gaze was on a road that led into the forest because at the end of that road, there was supposedly a grassy field.
"I see...and the lumber mill's down that road?"
Lawrence looked back down at the map in his hands and explained, "On this side of the forest is a busy trade route that connects many towns and villages, and thanks to the constant sheep and cattle traffic, the land is totally barren, as you can see. But on the other side of the forest is a lush, fertile plain."
"A lush plain, eh?" Holo didn't bother sitting up and merely directed her voice at Lawrence.
"Apparently its face is thick with green grass even this time of year."
Holo did not immediately reply.
Concerned, Lawrence looked back at her, whereupon he was met by her irritated expression.
"I am no sheep. Green grass is hardly cause for me to celebrate," she said flatly.
Anyone happening to pass by the wagon would not have understood the true meaning of Holo's words. But she was not merely being difficult for no reason.
Atop Holo's head sat a pair of magnificent wolf ears that could never have belonged to any human, and from the base of her lower back grew a thickly furred tail that swished to and fro.
While she appeared to be a girl in her teens, her true form was that of a giant wolf that could swallow a man in a single bite.
Any who might have puzzled over her complaint would surely understand its full meaning once they saw her true nature.
"My apologies. But grass isn't merely for eating, you know."
"Mm?"
"With weather such as this, doesn't the idea of basking in the sun on a grassy knoll hold a bit of appeal?"
Just then, Holo looked away. Immediately thereafter, her tail started to squirm in her hands. Given her abundant imagination, she could certainly reckon the ways a grassy field could be put to use.
So when she finally opened her mouth, the question Holo asked skipped over that matter entirely. "Were you not in a hurry?"
Merchants knew that time was money, and so a leisurely detour to bask in a sunny clearing was like a rope around the neck. But Holo was genuinely concerned with the possibility of holding their travels up, and her flattering gaze was enough to send any legendary emperor-seducing beauty running barefoot for the hills.
This treatment alone was quite refreshing. And Holo's tail was even more honest than her lips.
As far as Lawrence was concerned, if the detour would make her this happy, then he cared little about the slight delay. Far from it—if some sun napping gave her this much pleasure, it was worth it and more.
The road had offered few pleasures, so a bit of good cheer was certainly called for.
"We need some rest to keep making efficient progress. Still, I don't want to get your hopes too high..."
"What do you mean?"


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
It was that map he held in his hand, casting his gaze eastward.
The road Lawrence and Holo were on ran alongside a forest for quite a long distance. Despite the road adjacent to it passing through mostly vegetation-free and featureless wilderness, the forest itself was thick and dark with trees year-round.
And yet even that thick forest had been cleared long ago to make room for the construction of a new town, Lawrence had heard, and now covered only half its original area. The map Lawrence held had been drawn when the forest was larger and showed just how great its former extent truly was.
"What is the matter?" asked Lawrence's traveling companion, Holo, noticing Lawrence's gaze as it traveled afield from her spot relaxing in the wagon bed.
Lawrence turned to see Holo dressed as a nun and reclining atop his cargo, her head tilted lazily in his direction.
"There's a lumber mill here."
"A lumber mill?"
"Or at least there used to be. A place where trees are cut down and their trunks made into lumber for building."
But Lawrence's interest wasn't in the forest's former grandeur. His gaze was on a road that led into the forest because at the end of that road, there was supposedly a grassy field.
"I see...and the lumber mill's down that road?"
Lawrence looked back down at the map in his hands and explained, "On this side of the forest is a busy trade route that connects many towns and villages, and thanks to the constant sheep and cattle traffic, the land is totally barren, as you can see. But on the other side of the forest is a lush, fertile plain."
"A lush plain, eh?" Holo didn't bother sitting up and merely directed her voice at Lawrence.
"Apparently its face is thick with green grass even this time of year."
Holo did not immediately reply.
Concerned, Lawrence looked back at her, whereupon he was met by her irritated expression.
"I am no sheep. Green grass is hardly cause for me to celebrate," she said flatly.
Anyone happening to pass by the wagon would not have understood the true meaning of Holo's words. But she was not merely being difficult for no reason.
Atop Holo's head sat a pair of magnificent wolf ears that could never have belonged to any human, and from the base of her lower back grew a thickly furred tail that swished to and fro.
While she appeared to be a girl in her teens, her true form was that of a giant wolf that could swallow a man in a single bite.
Any who might have puzzled over her complaint would surely understand its full meaning once they saw her true nature.
"My apologies. But grass isn't merely for eating, you know."
"Mm?"
"With weather such as this, doesn't the idea of basking in the sun on a grassy knoll hold a bit of appeal?"
Just then, Holo looked away. Immediately thereafter, her tail started to squirm in her hands. Given her abundant imagination, she could certainly reckon the ways a grassy field could be put to use.
So when she finally opened her mouth, the question Holo asked skipped over that matter entirely. "Were you not in a hurry?"
Merchants knew that time was money, and so a leisurely detour to bask in a sunny clearing was like a rope around the neck. But Holo was genuinely concerned with the possibility of holding their travels up, and her flattering gaze was enough to send any legendary emperor-seducing beauty running barefoot for the hills.
This treatment alone was quite refreshing. And Holo's tail was even more honest than her lips.
As far as Lawrence was concerned, if the detour would make her this happy, then he cared little about the slight delay. Far from it—if some sun napping gave her this much pleasure, it was worth it and more.
The road had offered few pleasures, so a bit of good cheer was certainly called for.
"We need some rest to keep making efficient progress. Still, I don't want to get your hopes too high..."
"What do you mean?"

Output:
These would have been difficult words to deliver to a child, but fortunately he was addressing Holo the Wisewolf. She knew exactly what he was considering when he made a proposal like this one.
Holo had been lying on her back while grooming her tail, but she now rolled over and looked at Lawrence, her eyes upturned. "'Tis no concern at all—we'll just have a nice nap in the shade."
Just as Holo had imagined the grassy plain Lawrence described to her, Lawrence now pictured Holo's words. It was certainly true that the idea of the two of them napping beneath the trees, leaved year-round and disturbed only by the softest murmur of a wind, was far from a bad one.
Lawrence pulled himself out of his imaginings and turned his attention back to Holo, who regarded him with a silent expression that said, "So, what say you?"
"Not bad."
"Not bad at all!"
Lawrence put the map aside and took up the reins; Holo rolled over onto her back.
The wagon rolled steadily into the forest. It was a clear midmorning, now completely free of any yawning.
It appeared that someone was still using the road that led into the forest. Hunters, fruit gatherers, or possibly people hunting for wild honey or firewood. In any case, the road was well maintained, and the wagon traversed it easily.
The forest was just quiet enough and just noisy enough to feel just right for a pleasant detour.
Until they entered the forest, Holo kept her hands off of the wine, but soon she was enjoying it fully, the echoing birdsong a fine accompaniment.
Lawrence had of course long since surrendered to the spirit of the detour and was not at all angry. He'd occasionally look back to the wagon bed and warn Holo not to drink it all, but she would thrust the wineskin at him as though to bribe him—and it was a bribe he always took.
According to the map in his hand, the road they were on cut a thin line sideways through the forest. It was, in fact, the narrowest part of the forest that the road crossed, which made this the quickest way to cross through.
However, it often happened that roads deviated from what maps might claim, and after a stretch of steady progress, the road began to arc to the right.
This deviated from the map, but it didn't seem like a newly built road that avoided a recently fallen tree blocking the old route. The road seemed to have always been this way. But since there was no fork or intersection, Lawrence saw no reason to hesitate.
He continued to guide the horse along the road.
"Aye, winter forests...," said Holo suddenly from the wagon bed. "'Tis better to come in the early morning rather than midday."
The road's visibility was not good, and there was no telling when a wagon wheel might be stuck in a tree root or small stream, so Lawrence couldn't spare a look back—but going by her tone, Holo was reasonably drunk.
"Why's that?"
"Mm. Even a forest like this has some leaves that fall to the ground, does it not? Over the night they'll become soaked with dew, which turns to mist in the morning sunlight. If we'd been able to get a breath of that..."
"...The misty air would be a delicious balm to our winter-parched lungs," Lawrence finished, which Holo gave a satisfied nod at.
"For afternoon visits, summer is best. Rays of sunlight stream through the leaves and tickle one's cheeks like the feathers of a songbird."
"Too many flies in summer, though."
Lawrence was a seasoned traveler himself and knew perfectly well the good and bad parts of forests in any season. He heard Holo's ticklish laugh just as he had expected to. Unbidden, a vision of a sun-dappled Holo, flicking her tail to and fro to chase insects off her, rose in his mind.
"Still, forests are lovely places. We've been traveling across plains so much of late that...aah...aaahhh...so, aye..." Holo yawned. No doubt it would be time for her midday nap soon. Lawrence heard her rummage around for something—perhaps searching for a blanket.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
These would have been difficult words to deliver to a child, but fortunately he was addressing Holo the Wisewolf. She knew exactly what he was considering when he made a proposal like this one.
Holo had been lying on her back while grooming her tail, but she now rolled over and looked at Lawrence, her eyes upturned. "'Tis no concern at all—we'll just have a nice nap in the shade."
Just as Holo had imagined the grassy plain Lawrence described to her, Lawrence now pictured Holo's words. It was certainly true that the idea of the two of them napping beneath the trees, leaved year-round and disturbed only by the softest murmur of a wind, was far from a bad one.
Lawrence pulled himself out of his imaginings and turned his attention back to Holo, who regarded him with a silent expression that said, "So, what say you?"
"Not bad."
"Not bad at all!"
Lawrence put the map aside and took up the reins; Holo rolled over onto her back.
The wagon rolled steadily into the forest. It was a clear midmorning, now completely free of any yawning.
It appeared that someone was still using the road that led into the forest. Hunters, fruit gatherers, or possibly people hunting for wild honey or firewood. In any case, the road was well maintained, and the wagon traversed it easily.
The forest was just quiet enough and just noisy enough to feel just right for a pleasant detour.
Until they entered the forest, Holo kept her hands off of the wine, but soon she was enjoying it fully, the echoing birdsong a fine accompaniment.
Lawrence had of course long since surrendered to the spirit of the detour and was not at all angry. He'd occasionally look back to the wagon bed and warn Holo not to drink it all, but she would thrust the wineskin at him as though to bribe him—and it was a bribe he always took.
According to the map in his hand, the road they were on cut a thin line sideways through the forest. It was, in fact, the narrowest part of the forest that the road crossed, which made this the quickest way to cross through.
However, it often happened that roads deviated from what maps might claim, and after a stretch of steady progress, the road began to arc to the right.
This deviated from the map, but it didn't seem like a newly built road that avoided a recently fallen tree blocking the old route. The road seemed to have always been this way. But since there was no fork or intersection, Lawrence saw no reason to hesitate.
He continued to guide the horse along the road.
"Aye, winter forests...," said Holo suddenly from the wagon bed. "'Tis better to come in the early morning rather than midday."
The road's visibility was not good, and there was no telling when a wagon wheel might be stuck in a tree root or small stream, so Lawrence couldn't spare a look back—but going by her tone, Holo was reasonably drunk.
"Why's that?"
"Mm. Even a forest like this has some leaves that fall to the ground, does it not? Over the night they'll become soaked with dew, which turns to mist in the morning sunlight. If we'd been able to get a breath of that..."
"...The misty air would be a delicious balm to our winter-parched lungs," Lawrence finished, which Holo gave a satisfied nod at.
"For afternoon visits, summer is best. Rays of sunlight stream through the leaves and tickle one's cheeks like the feathers of a songbird."
"Too many flies in summer, though."
Lawrence was a seasoned traveler himself and knew perfectly well the good and bad parts of forests in any season. He heard Holo's ticklish laugh just as he had expected to. Unbidden, a vision of a sun-dappled Holo, flicking her tail to and fro to chase insects off her, rose in his mind.
"Still, forests are lovely places. We've been traveling across plains so much of late that...aah...aaahhh...so, aye..." Holo yawned. No doubt it would be time for her midday nap soon. Lawrence heard her rummage around for something—perhaps searching for a blanket.

Output:
"It's not just forests, you know. There's pleasure to be had on the plains, too."
"...Oh, aye?"
"Long chats with one's traveling companion, for one."
Simply traveling across a plain when the weather was good could turn into a sort of test of endurance. And even if it weren't, sitting in the driver's seat, holding the reins while Holo napped in the wagon bed, wasn't any fun for Lawrence.
Once he had finally ventured to speak his mind, the clever Holo seemed to realize what Lawrence was trying to say.
She popped up and rested her chin on the back of the driver's seat and looked up at Lawrence with mischief in her eyes. "I'm a wolf, after all. Sadly I've no interest in conversation without any meat to it."
It was a light jab, so Lawrence mildly returned it. "So you're saying you want furious debate for dinner, then?"
Holo curled her lip up. "Furious, nay. I would hope for something more passionate." Her eyes were half-closed, and she rubbed the base of her ear against Lawrence's arm. It was often her way of tricking him into letting his guard down by making him wonder if she was drunk.
Lawrence decided to assume her ear was merely itchy.
"Passionate? Oh, you mean the sort of talk that makes one's face blush?"
"Heh. Aye."
If Holo had been a simple cat or dog, a thorough head rubbing and a piece of jerky would placate her, but unfortunately she was a wolf, who would easily devour him if he gave her the chance.
Lawrence raised his arm and slowly rested his elbow on Holo's head. Holo soon growled her irritation and shot him a sharp glare.
"Just thinking about how much wine you've drunk is enough to make my face turn red."
"...I haven't had that much."
Holo's face would remain unaffected by wine for quite a while, so her appearance was largely unchanged. But she still didn't enjoy being made roundabout fun of, so she slid out from under Lawrence's elbow and rubbed her head.
"Make sure you save a bit for enjoying on the sunny field, eh?"
"I said I did not drink that much," said Holo sulkily, withdrawing to the wagon bed and flopping roughly over to the side.
Lawrence got the feeling she was starting to become genuinely angry, so perhaps Holo really had been careful to spare Lawrence his share of the wine.
He did trust her, but perhaps she didn't enjoy being doubted even in jest. Lawrence turned around to apologize and was immediately met by her ready gaze.
She'd been ready and waiting for him to turn around out of concern for her.
"'Tis true, though I do enjoy idle conversation. And my very favorite sort is..."
"...When you get to tease a poor traveling merchant?"
"Hmm? Oh, aye, that's nice as well."
The road continued to run through the forest, and Lawrence squinted ahead to see whether the field was approaching. He noticed that there seemed to be another road running alongside theirs, and a short distance ahead the two seemed to intersect.
Lawrence shrugged off Holo's words and reached for the map, looking down at it intently. "So what is your favorite sort of conversation?" he asked, looking back and forth between the map and the road and trying to see past the trees.
Evidently the road Lawrence and Holo were currently on wasn't the only one that crossed the forest—there were several others. And worse, they intersected each other in complicated ways.
Given that, Lawrence wondered if it might not be prudent to turn around and leave.
As he mulled it over, Lawrence felt eyes staring hard at the back of his neck, so he turned around.
"...At the very least, I have no great love for this sort of conversation," said an irritated Holo, her tail switching in agitation.
For just a moment, Lawrence's mind went white. Trifling conversations were similar to, albeit different from, perfunctory ones. Having gotten used to traveling alone, Lawrence had been careless.
"I'm sorry," he said, apologizing sincerely. "So, what is your favorite sort of conversation?" he asked again, which made Holo's face turn instantly disbelieving.
"Am I a child?"


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"It's not just forests, you know. There's pleasure to be had on the plains, too."
"...Oh, aye?"
"Long chats with one's traveling companion, for one."
Simply traveling across a plain when the weather was good could turn into a sort of test of endurance. And even if it weren't, sitting in the driver's seat, holding the reins while Holo napped in the wagon bed, wasn't any fun for Lawrence.
Once he had finally ventured to speak his mind, the clever Holo seemed to realize what Lawrence was trying to say.
She popped up and rested her chin on the back of the driver's seat and looked up at Lawrence with mischief in her eyes. "I'm a wolf, after all. Sadly I've no interest in conversation without any meat to it."
It was a light jab, so Lawrence mildly returned it. "So you're saying you want furious debate for dinner, then?"
Holo curled her lip up. "Furious, nay. I would hope for something more passionate." Her eyes were half-closed, and she rubbed the base of her ear against Lawrence's arm. It was often her way of tricking him into letting his guard down by making him wonder if she was drunk.
Lawrence decided to assume her ear was merely itchy.
"Passionate? Oh, you mean the sort of talk that makes one's face blush?"
"Heh. Aye."
If Holo had been a simple cat or dog, a thorough head rubbing and a piece of jerky would placate her, but unfortunately she was a wolf, who would easily devour him if he gave her the chance.
Lawrence raised his arm and slowly rested his elbow on Holo's head. Holo soon growled her irritation and shot him a sharp glare.
"Just thinking about how much wine you've drunk is enough to make my face turn red."
"...I haven't had that much."
Holo's face would remain unaffected by wine for quite a while, so her appearance was largely unchanged. But she still didn't enjoy being made roundabout fun of, so she slid out from under Lawrence's elbow and rubbed her head.
"Make sure you save a bit for enjoying on the sunny field, eh?"
"I said I did not drink that much," said Holo sulkily, withdrawing to the wagon bed and flopping roughly over to the side.
Lawrence got the feeling she was starting to become genuinely angry, so perhaps Holo really had been careful to spare Lawrence his share of the wine.
He did trust her, but perhaps she didn't enjoy being doubted even in jest. Lawrence turned around to apologize and was immediately met by her ready gaze.
She'd been ready and waiting for him to turn around out of concern for her.
"'Tis true, though I do enjoy idle conversation. And my very favorite sort is..."
"...When you get to tease a poor traveling merchant?"
"Hmm? Oh, aye, that's nice as well."
The road continued to run through the forest, and Lawrence squinted ahead to see whether the field was approaching. He noticed that there seemed to be another road running alongside theirs, and a short distance ahead the two seemed to intersect.
Lawrence shrugged off Holo's words and reached for the map, looking down at it intently. "So what is your favorite sort of conversation?" he asked, looking back and forth between the map and the road and trying to see past the trees.
Evidently the road Lawrence and Holo were currently on wasn't the only one that crossed the forest—there were several others. And worse, they intersected each other in complicated ways.
Given that, Lawrence wondered if it might not be prudent to turn around and leave.
As he mulled it over, Lawrence felt eyes staring hard at the back of his neck, so he turned around.
"...At the very least, I have no great love for this sort of conversation," said an irritated Holo, her tail switching in agitation.
For just a moment, Lawrence's mind went white. Trifling conversations were similar to, albeit different from, perfunctory ones. Having gotten used to traveling alone, Lawrence had been careless.
"I'm sorry," he said, apologizing sincerely. "So, what is your favorite sort of conversation?" he asked again, which made Holo's face turn instantly disbelieving.
"Am I a child?"

Output:
"A conversation has a certain flow, does it not? Do you suppose that by simply asking me again, I'll just happily answer you and that will be that?"
Immediately following Holo's words, the wagon swayed dramatically as one of its wheels hit a tree root.
Lawrence hastily looked ahead, then turned back around to see Holo. She lay prone atop the cargo, as though about to sleep. She was not facing him.
***
Awkwardly, Lawrence faced forward, putting his hand to his forehead. This situation was unlike anything he'd dealt with back when his only conversation partner had been his horse. He considered how best to apologize, but was certain that no matter what he said, he'd only dig himself deeper into the mud.
Finally, he braced himself and spoke.
"I'm sorry."
The same words he'd said a moment earlier. Yet—conversation did have a flow.
"Hmph." Her irritated snort was proof that she'd forgiven him. "So...when will we finally clear this forest?" The space between her words had probably been to put the wineskin to her lips. After all that, she still hadn't revealed just what sort of idle conversation she preferred.
"They say the forest spirits can create new paths through the woods—I don't suppose Holo the Wisewolf has any such abilities?"
"If this were a wheat field, it would not be impossible."
"Oh, really? Now, that I'd like to see."
"Perhaps if there's an opportunity." Holo's tone was chilly, but if he was to object, it would only be cause for more retribution. Lawrence managed to choke back his retort.
"Still, this forest is strange." The wagon swayed as they crossed an intersecting path.
"Strange in what way?"
"There are a lot of paths. Too many even for lumber harvesting." Lawrence wondered if they ought to turn back before they got lost.
It was nearly midday, and once the sun passed its zenith, the shadows would shift.
He remembered the path so far, more or less, but the shifting shadows would change the landmarks, making it that much easier to become lost.
***
"What's the matter?" Holo interrupted Lawrence's musings. "Are we about to be lost?" She smirked a malicious smirk.
As a traveling merchant, Lawrence found himself irritated, even if this was a joke meant more as a friendly warning than anything else.
"We've come all this way and I remember our route, so it's fine." Lawrence knew he was being obstinate.
Whether or not Holo also knew that, she fell silent for a while, her tail swishing to and fro before she threw herself back atop the cargo.
"Aye, well, you're the lifelong traveler, so." She retracted her opinion—it was almost as though she was apologizing for her unsolicited question.
The wagon rattled along the road.
They continued to intersect paths, which wove this way and that but never opened to the clearing.
Time lazily passed by, and finally they found themselves at an intersection radiating paths in many directions.
Lawrence stopped the horse and cast his gaze skyward. It was just past noon—the perfect time for the hoped-for nap on the grass. Which of course meant that the longer it took to find the meadow, the less pleasant the nap would be.
Given the time necessary for the return trip, they would need to find the meadow very soon to make it worthwhile at all.
But having come so far on this detour, turning back now without even a glimpse of the meadow would be the height of foolishness. More than anything, he was feeling foolish for having ignored Holo's warning.
***
Lawrence sat in silent contemplation in the driver's seat. The horse was stopped, and having him start walking again was the furthest thing from Lawrence's mind.
It was clear that the rational thing to do would be to turn around rather than continuing on. And yet if he suggested turning back here, there was no telling what Holo would say. He knew it was his pride talking, but some part of him resisted simply choking it down.
Whether or not she was aware of Lawrence's conflict, Holo's tail wagged back and forth. It was an obvious provocation.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"A conversation has a certain flow, does it not? Do you suppose that by simply asking me again, I'll just happily answer you and that will be that?"
Immediately following Holo's words, the wagon swayed dramatically as one of its wheels hit a tree root.
Lawrence hastily looked ahead, then turned back around to see Holo. She lay prone atop the cargo, as though about to sleep. She was not facing him.
***
Awkwardly, Lawrence faced forward, putting his hand to his forehead. This situation was unlike anything he'd dealt with back when his only conversation partner had been his horse. He considered how best to apologize, but was certain that no matter what he said, he'd only dig himself deeper into the mud.
Finally, he braced himself and spoke.
"I'm sorry."
The same words he'd said a moment earlier. Yet—conversation did have a flow.
"Hmph." Her irritated snort was proof that she'd forgiven him. "So...when will we finally clear this forest?" The space between her words had probably been to put the wineskin to her lips. After all that, she still hadn't revealed just what sort of idle conversation she preferred.
"They say the forest spirits can create new paths through the woods—I don't suppose Holo the Wisewolf has any such abilities?"
"If this were a wheat field, it would not be impossible."
"Oh, really? Now, that I'd like to see."
"Perhaps if there's an opportunity." Holo's tone was chilly, but if he was to object, it would only be cause for more retribution. Lawrence managed to choke back his retort.
"Still, this forest is strange." The wagon swayed as they crossed an intersecting path.
"Strange in what way?"
"There are a lot of paths. Too many even for lumber harvesting." Lawrence wondered if they ought to turn back before they got lost.
It was nearly midday, and once the sun passed its zenith, the shadows would shift.
He remembered the path so far, more or less, but the shifting shadows would change the landmarks, making it that much easier to become lost.
***
"What's the matter?" Holo interrupted Lawrence's musings. "Are we about to be lost?" She smirked a malicious smirk.
As a traveling merchant, Lawrence found himself irritated, even if this was a joke meant more as a friendly warning than anything else.
"We've come all this way and I remember our route, so it's fine." Lawrence knew he was being obstinate.
Whether or not Holo also knew that, she fell silent for a while, her tail swishing to and fro before she threw herself back atop the cargo.
"Aye, well, you're the lifelong traveler, so." She retracted her opinion—it was almost as though she was apologizing for her unsolicited question.
The wagon rattled along the road.
They continued to intersect paths, which wove this way and that but never opened to the clearing.
Time lazily passed by, and finally they found themselves at an intersection radiating paths in many directions.
Lawrence stopped the horse and cast his gaze skyward. It was just past noon—the perfect time for the hoped-for nap on the grass. Which of course meant that the longer it took to find the meadow, the less pleasant the nap would be.
Given the time necessary for the return trip, they would need to find the meadow very soon to make it worthwhile at all.
But having come so far on this detour, turning back now without even a glimpse of the meadow would be the height of foolishness. More than anything, he was feeling foolish for having ignored Holo's warning.
***
Lawrence sat in silent contemplation in the driver's seat. The horse was stopped, and having him start walking again was the furthest thing from Lawrence's mind.
It was clear that the rational thing to do would be to turn around rather than continuing on. And yet if he suggested turning back here, there was no telling what Holo would say. He knew it was his pride talking, but some part of him resisted simply choking it down.
Whether or not she was aware of Lawrence's conflict, Holo's tail wagged back and forth. It was an obvious provocation.

Output:
***
They would have to turn back. Then immediately after Lawrence came to his decision—
"Hmm. Goodness, but you're adorable," said Holo from behind him, chin propped on the back of the driver's seat. "I wonder how much worse 'twould be if you had ears and a tail like mine."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"I mean I've never seen a male quite so transparent as you."
"What?" Lawrence retorted, a hint of irritation mixed into his voice, which made Holo sit up and bring her face closer. The quality of her smile changed as Lawrence couldn't help but flinch away.
"After kicking aside my warning, you can't very well suggest we turn back, and yet continuing on could be dangerous. So, what to do?"
Bull's-eye.
Lawrence looked away, which brought Holo's still-grinning face even closer. "Your tiresome stubbornness is only too obvious."
Holo, the self-proclaimed wisewolf, had lived for centuries. Her face was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek, which only heightened Lawrence's desire to escape.
But the driver's seat was cramped.
He faced Holo's amber eyes, keen and penetrating like a fortune-teller's.
"And yet..." Holo then continued, her tone almost disappointingly gentle. She'd been close enough to devour him headfirst but suddenly pulled back.
Unable to follow her rapidly changing demeanor, Lawrence could only stare vaguely at her as she sat atop the back of the driver's seat.
"And yet when I wonder why you're so stubborn, I can hardly find it within myself to be angry."
From her perch atop the seat back, she was in a position to look down at Lawrence. It was the reverse of the usual situation, and Holo's attitude was frustratingly high-and-mighty.
"You're trying to get the advantage of me, even if it's a reach, aren't you? You're like a child. How can I be mad at a child?"
If she'd been mocking him, then he might have had some recourse.
But in trying to refute Holo, Lawrence had failed like a little boy. And she simply smiled down at him without rancor or excitement, like a benevolent elder sister.
In a situation like this, he didn't have a leg to stand on. And she'd been dead-on accurate, so there was nowhere to run.
"Your problem is this," Holo said conversationally as she hopped down to sit properly in the seat. Having done so, the difference in their heights meant that she now looked up at him. "You decide everything on a set of scales."
"...Scales?"
"Aye. Which side is heavier, which is higher or lower. It's no good, looking to that to the exclusion of all else. It might be right for a merchant, but..."
A rustling sound arose as Holo reached back to take hold of the blanket in the wagon bed, then pulled it forward. Once she finished wrapping herself in it, she then lightly smacked Lawrence's hand, which still held the reins.
"Just how long do you plan on holding those reins for?"
"...Huh? I mean, we'll have to turn back here, so...," said Lawrence guardedly, since he didn't understand what Holo was getting at.
Holo's face turned immediately incredulous. "Honestly...It's just as I said, is it not? What you need is a better instinct for a conversation's flow."
It was true that she'd said as much. But what did that have to do with him taking up the reins? Lawrence started to wonder if she had again cast him into some elaborate trap—but then he realized his misapprehension. "Ah!"
"Huh. So you've finally hit upon it, have you?"
He had no retort. He had only to follow the thread of their conversation up until a moment ago, and it was simple. Considering the exchange he'd had with Holo just before they entered the forest, it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"If you'd only done as much from the start—but no, you just had to work your way in deeper. It's not my cleverness that makes it so simple for me to trip you up, but rather your foolishness."
Lawrence dropped the reins at her insistence, opening and closing his now-empty hands. Having had it pointed out to him, it was obvious, and yet he had never realized it.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
***
They would have to turn back. Then immediately after Lawrence came to his decision—
"Hmm. Goodness, but you're adorable," said Holo from behind him, chin propped on the back of the driver's seat. "I wonder how much worse 'twould be if you had ears and a tail like mine."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"I mean I've never seen a male quite so transparent as you."
"What?" Lawrence retorted, a hint of irritation mixed into his voice, which made Holo sit up and bring her face closer. The quality of her smile changed as Lawrence couldn't help but flinch away.
"After kicking aside my warning, you can't very well suggest we turn back, and yet continuing on could be dangerous. So, what to do?"
Bull's-eye.
Lawrence looked away, which brought Holo's still-grinning face even closer. "Your tiresome stubbornness is only too obvious."
Holo, the self-proclaimed wisewolf, had lived for centuries. Her face was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek, which only heightened Lawrence's desire to escape.
But the driver's seat was cramped.
He faced Holo's amber eyes, keen and penetrating like a fortune-teller's.
"And yet..." Holo then continued, her tone almost disappointingly gentle. She'd been close enough to devour him headfirst but suddenly pulled back.
Unable to follow her rapidly changing demeanor, Lawrence could only stare vaguely at her as she sat atop the back of the driver's seat.
"And yet when I wonder why you're so stubborn, I can hardly find it within myself to be angry."
From her perch atop the seat back, she was in a position to look down at Lawrence. It was the reverse of the usual situation, and Holo's attitude was frustratingly high-and-mighty.
"You're trying to get the advantage of me, even if it's a reach, aren't you? You're like a child. How can I be mad at a child?"
If she'd been mocking him, then he might have had some recourse.
But in trying to refute Holo, Lawrence had failed like a little boy. And she simply smiled down at him without rancor or excitement, like a benevolent elder sister.
In a situation like this, he didn't have a leg to stand on. And she'd been dead-on accurate, so there was nowhere to run.
"Your problem is this," Holo said conversationally as she hopped down to sit properly in the seat. Having done so, the difference in their heights meant that she now looked up at him. "You decide everything on a set of scales."
"...Scales?"
"Aye. Which side is heavier, which is higher or lower. It's no good, looking to that to the exclusion of all else. It might be right for a merchant, but..."
A rustling sound arose as Holo reached back to take hold of the blanket in the wagon bed, then pulled it forward. Once she finished wrapping herself in it, she then lightly smacked Lawrence's hand, which still held the reins.
"Just how long do you plan on holding those reins for?"
"...Huh? I mean, we'll have to turn back here, so...," said Lawrence guardedly, since he didn't understand what Holo was getting at.
Holo's face turned immediately incredulous. "Honestly...It's just as I said, is it not? What you need is a better instinct for a conversation's flow."
It was true that she'd said as much. But what did that have to do with him taking up the reins? Lawrence started to wonder if she had again cast him into some elaborate trap—but then he realized his misapprehension. "Ah!"
"Huh. So you've finally hit upon it, have you?"
He had no retort. He had only to follow the thread of their conversation up until a moment ago, and it was simple. Considering the exchange he'd had with Holo just before they entered the forest, it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"If you'd only done as much from the start—but no, you just had to work your way in deeper. It's not my cleverness that makes it so simple for me to trip you up, but rather your foolishness."
Lawrence dropped the reins at her insistence, opening and closing his now-empty hands. Having had it pointed out to him, it was obvious, and yet he had never realized it.

Output:
That, too, had been a misunderstanding. What had Holo said she enjoyed about travel?
"You mean your favorite sort of idle chatter?"
"Aye. If you'd only thought to confirm that, not only would you not have need to make a meadow detour, you'd have been able to quite thoroughly cheer me up." Holo's tone was very amused.
No doubt she was very amused. She had bested him, after all.
"So, what is your favorite way to converse?" asked Lawrence. Immediately thereafter, his eye widened in surprise—Holo seemed neither angry nor exasperated. She neither scorned him nor mocked him. At Lawrence's question, she seemed actually embarrassed.
"Heh-heh...to be quite honest, I'd never be able to admit it if the conversation had not come to this place," she said, looking down bashfully, her voice ticklish as she giggled to herself.
If her favorite sort of conversation was indeed something so embarrassing, then this was surely the best time to admit it—she had the overwhelming advantage now.
No matter what she said, it could be forgiven.
"What I like best is...falling asleep while talking like this. Just drifting off to the sound of idle conversation..."
She was so self-conscious at this last part that she looked away when she finished speaking. And it was true, falling asleep to conversation was not so very different from falling asleep to a lullaby.
And now that Lawrence thought about it, this had happened before. Holo often drifted to sleep while they talked.
Lawrence had always attributed that to her selfishness, never dreaming that this was the truth.
He peered at Holo's turned-away face, imagining that if this was no joke, then she would be blushing red.
"So—rather foolish, eh?"
"...Unfortunately, yes."
Holo looked back at him, eyes resentful as she bumped her head into his shoulder. "Yet who is it that holds the advantage here?"
It hardly needed to be said who was the greater fool. If he'd asked this of her before, Lawrence would have the advantage over Holo.
There would have been no need to fixate on the meadow nor to be so pointlessly stubborn. Indeed, it might have been Holo who turned stubborn. But Holo had discerned the conversational flow more clearly, and so she was the victor.
"I just can't win with you, can I?"
"I should say not." Holo shifted under the blanket. Her ears twitched, and Lawrence heard her yawn. "Come now...I told you what sort of conversation I like—so will you not speak?"
She wheedled like a child, despite still holding the reins. Though Lawrence found this rather frustrating, he knew there was no cause for him to resent her. With nothing else to say, he turned the conversation to their dinner menu.
As usual, they were limited to bland bread and jerky, along with some dried fruit. If they foraged in the forest, it was possible they might catch a quail or rabbit, though, and Lawrence had to laugh at the way Holo's ears perked up at the mention of this.
They continued to share idle conversation, and eventually Lawrence heard the sound of Holo's sleeping breath. It was as though having toyed so thoroughly with him, the wolf had grown tired from play. When he looked at her, Lawrence wondered if he would ever become clever enough to gain the conversational advantage from Holo.
It wasn't as warm as the meadow might have been, but nothing was so comfortable as being under the blanket, as long as two people were there together. And all the more so when the other person was Holo, whose body temperature was slightly warmer than his, like a child's would be.
Yet he could scarcely believe how blameless she looked while sleeping. It was as though he could pinch her nose without her awakening or stick his finger into the downy fur inside her ears. Having suffered at her hands so much, Lawrence toyed with the notion of revenge as he regarded her innocent face.
And then it was as though God had heard his plea.
She seemed about to fall over, so as Lawrence moved to support her, he made his gentle counterattack.