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

Input:
"Ohh, ohh, my goodness...In other words, you bear tales of fantastic creatures of legend, vagabonds, heroic knights, and the like?"
"Mmm? Aye, certainly I know several stories like that...Mmm...No, you probably would not believe them..."
"Ohhhhh...!"
Lawrence himself, in spite of striving to be a complete merchant in every way, was hardly unfamiliar with taking advantage of people's ignorance, particularly people living in backwaters like this with limited sources of information, but the sight before his eyes made even him blush.
"Oh, I forget myself. Were you not here to get water?"
As if going out of her way to keep it private, she whispered into Lawrence's ear.
Now that she had gone this far, he had no idea what kind of retribution she would indulge in if he did not play along. If it was business, he had plenty of confidence in his acting ability, but thinking of doing it in any other context gave him stage fright.
Quietly, Lawrence took in a large breath and girded himself.
"...We're still all right, but if I don't do something soon..."
Lawrence thought as hard as he could and forced the words out. As he did so, Holo gave him a sour glare.
Lord have mercy on our souls, Lawrence thought, turning his face away as he spoke.
"We're not running out of just water, but wine, as well..."
That moment, in the direction opposite to where Lawrence turned his face from, he felt a gaze shift to him so hot, he could feel it even in his sleep.
It was the village headman; he looked like a knight whose beloved princess had been taken captive.
"What! You should have said so sooner!"
His voice was so great that Holo's angular, dignified wolf ears, hidden under her hood, threatened to spring right up. It was no doubt a voice honed so that he could give precise instructions to villagers working in large fields. No doubt Holo, of excellent hearing, was surprised by it.
She looked like she was desperately trying to calm herself under her hood.
Seeing Holo like that, and having come this far, Lawrence assumed an expression of surrender. He bypassed Holo and spoke to the village headman.
"Meaning?"
The headman made a smile so great that it almost sent Lawrence flying.
"Come stay at my house! I'll prepare fine wine indeed!"
Holo, who was bad with loud noises, looked like she was desperately enduring the ringing in her ears. She still had a look of suffering on her as she glanced up at Lawrence.
"What a...generous offer..."
And after taking a short, deep breath, she turned back to the village headman, looking like she had been offered the chance of a lifetime.
And so, with her whole heart set on drinking his wine...
"No doubt the blessings of God shall be upon you."
Being something like a god herself, Holo cared little for the God that the Church spoke of.
Even while thinking she was quite a troublesome girl, he wondered if her manner of relentlessly pushing her way to her own objective might be something he should learn for himself.
At any rate, Lawrence and Holo had just traded stories of the road for a drinking party in the village.
In the first place, Lawrence should not have engaged in unnecessary conversation in the middle of the road.
Lawrence had asked a passing stonemason on a pilgrimage about the state of the village to cut down his own travel times.
Since he apparently repaired the stones that made up the stone bridges of the area's villages, their millstones, and sometimes even went to town to cut cobblestones, Lawrence was able to ask him detailed questions about various things.
He was a good-natured craftsman, so Lawrence thought it was probably kindness at work.
He had been at special pains to sing the praises of one nearby village, which apparently had a beautiful spring, and the wine made there was exceedingly tasty.

Output:
He said that once, he had even been called up by the archduke himself for a job, cutting pretty stones to repair a collapsed well, and this treasured wine had been his reward.
At the time, he was deeply moved by an aroma so extravagant, one would not think such a thing existed in this world; a taste so rich, it numbed a person's very temples; and so forth. Holo, to whom food and wine were nine-tenths of the pleasures of the world to be craved, listened to the story, her tail swaying under her robe the whole time.
Moreover, Lawrence's wallet had become lighter of late from allowing Holo to eat the food considered the most famous specialties at one town after another. Perhaps it was like he had been taught as a child: One keeps trouble from stray dogs at bay by never feeding one, no matter how hungry it looks.
But very much like a child who had never been taught, Lawrence had fed Holo delicious food over and over when she made that hungry-looking face. As a result, just like stray dogs emerging from the mountains and forests to cause people trouble, Holo, with the knowledge of what delicious food tasted like, used various means to cause Lawrence grief.
This was despite his knowing where this led: Once she had tasted good food, she wanted more of the same; then she wanted even more delicious food and more of it.
For that reason, holding Holo in check was essentially impossible.
"Aye. And then, that very moment, he heard the distant howl of a valiant wolf. It was like a cry of victory..."
Trailing off as she spoke, Holo made a sigh full of admiration at the last part.
Everyone was listening so intently that they forgot to drink the wine in their hands.
"The wolf pack plunged down into the valley like an avalanche. In the end, the bandits that had invaded the valley could do nothing against them and fled, all in a jumble. The only ones left were the villagers who lived in the valley."
"A-a valley full of wolves?"
"Even if the bandits were driven off, that's...you know?"
"Y-yeah. Even if the bandits were gone I can't tell which's worse..."
Several villagers argued among one another.
A village in a valley isolated and helpless before a band of heinous bandits, saved by the arrival of a pack of wolves; it sounded too good to be true, yet Lawrence did not think a single person doubted it.
"S-so, what happened in the end...?" One of the flustered villagers asked.
Though men like these were often called villagers ignorant of the world, they simply knew a different set of things than the humans who lived in towns. Indeed, it was they who were far better informed about the outside world.
They knew all too well that bears and wolves were animals that brought direct harm to men.
They knew that wolves had never been domesticated.
But that was precisely why they hung on every word.
"The villagers in the valley no doubt thought the same thing; one calamity followed by another. No, this could be worse than the bandits, for this was not a foe one could reason with."
Holo seemed quite satisfied when the callous smile that came over her as she spoke made all the villagers tremble.
No doubt these villagers had all endured numerous hardships, such as mercilessly blowing windstorms and hail one could only think of as the anger of God himself.
But just as windstorms and hail seemed to rebuff the prayers of men, those who had seen locusts gnaw on not only the ears of wheat, but also on homes and even men themselves knew in their hearts that it was meaningless to beg for aid beyond that of man, whatever their eyes or mouths might say.
Once one had seen the eerie sight of stricken men with empty eyes, obeying nothing but their own instinct to eat, it was a sight never forgotten.
Wolves existed at the summit of man's mountain of fears.
Everyone held their breath.
Holo slowly took a sip of her wine and spoke.


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

Input:
He said that once, he had even been called up by the archduke himself for a job, cutting pretty stones to repair a collapsed well, and this treasured wine had been his reward.
At the time, he was deeply moved by an aroma so extravagant, one would not think such a thing existed in this world; a taste so rich, it numbed a person's very temples; and so forth. Holo, to whom food and wine were nine-tenths of the pleasures of the world to be craved, listened to the story, her tail swaying under her robe the whole time.
Moreover, Lawrence's wallet had become lighter of late from allowing Holo to eat the food considered the most famous specialties at one town after another. Perhaps it was like he had been taught as a child: One keeps trouble from stray dogs at bay by never feeding one, no matter how hungry it looks.
But very much like a child who had never been taught, Lawrence had fed Holo delicious food over and over when she made that hungry-looking face. As a result, just like stray dogs emerging from the mountains and forests to cause people trouble, Holo, with the knowledge of what delicious food tasted like, used various means to cause Lawrence grief.
This was despite his knowing where this led: Once she had tasted good food, she wanted more of the same; then she wanted even more delicious food and more of it.
For that reason, holding Holo in check was essentially impossible.
"Aye. And then, that very moment, he heard the distant howl of a valiant wolf. It was like a cry of victory..."
Trailing off as she spoke, Holo made a sigh full of admiration at the last part.
Everyone was listening so intently that they forgot to drink the wine in their hands.
"The wolf pack plunged down into the valley like an avalanche. In the end, the bandits that had invaded the valley could do nothing against them and fled, all in a jumble. The only ones left were the villagers who lived in the valley."
"A-a valley full of wolves?"
"Even if the bandits were driven off, that's...you know?"
"Y-yeah. Even if the bandits were gone I can't tell which's worse..."
Several villagers argued among one another.
A village in a valley isolated and helpless before a band of heinous bandits, saved by the arrival of a pack of wolves; it sounded too good to be true, yet Lawrence did not think a single person doubted it.
"S-so, what happened in the end...?" One of the flustered villagers asked.
Though men like these were often called villagers ignorant of the world, they simply knew a different set of things than the humans who lived in towns. Indeed, it was they who were far better informed about the outside world.
They knew all too well that bears and wolves were animals that brought direct harm to men.
They knew that wolves had never been domesticated.
But that was precisely why they hung on every word.
"The villagers in the valley no doubt thought the same thing; one calamity followed by another. No, this could be worse than the bandits, for this was not a foe one could reason with."
Holo seemed quite satisfied when the callous smile that came over her as she spoke made all the villagers tremble.
No doubt these villagers had all endured numerous hardships, such as mercilessly blowing windstorms and hail one could only think of as the anger of God himself.
But just as windstorms and hail seemed to rebuff the prayers of men, those who had seen locusts gnaw on not only the ears of wheat, but also on homes and even men themselves knew in their hearts that it was meaningless to beg for aid beyond that of man, whatever their eyes or mouths might say.
Once one had seen the eerie sight of stricken men with empty eyes, obeying nothing but their own instinct to eat, it was a sight never forgotten.
Wolves existed at the summit of man's mountain of fears.
Everyone held their breath.
Holo slowly took a sip of her wine and spoke.

Output:
"It was the wolf he'd helped?!" Someone shouted in his excitement, earning a smack to his head from someone else.
But it was clear this was where it was going and what everyone was waiting for.
A wolf, never to be domesticated by man, saved the village from danger, for he never forgot his debt from long ago.
It was not the moving tale that the villagers sought; it was the possibility itself that such a thing could happen in some far-off land.
"In the end, the villagers offered all the salt-pickled meat they had. But they did not eat the villagers even so. After all, wolves do not eat ears of wheat. And so, the village managed to get through the winter that year."
"Ohh..."
Men, women, and of course children were all lost in the tale.
Anyone who had listened to stories at an inn had a fairly good grasp of which stories were true and which were fabrications. Even so, few thought this story was false.
Holo told seven or eight stories more. Some were stories of things she and Lawrence had been dragged into; others Lawrence had never heard of before.
In villages like this, which seemed to transform every drop of the high-quality spring beside it into wine, Holo was wont to say, "I have no more stories to tell," casually pouring more wine into her tankard all the while.
Therefore, a number of her stories might have been flat-out lies.
"And? Is there more? Other stories like that to tell?"
"No, how about tales of chivalry! There's lots of those all over the place, right?"
"I want to talk about the Church. There's things I want to ask people on a pilgrimage. Is it true that the Holy Mother is at the cathedral in the Belan Mountains?"
It continued like that, one after another.
The village headman, rather than admonishing the villagers as headman for their shamelessness, seemed to be busy lightly engraving the story Holo had told into a roll of tree bark with a finely pared stone.
"Hmmm. But really, I am all out..."
Holo spoke with a laugh as if in mild distress, but of course the villagers would not let her escape so easily.
"Hey, looks like you're running low on wine. Lemme pour some more!"
"Hey, hey, God forgives people for drinking all the time. We don't get these chances very often, so please, tell us more stories like that one!"
Perhaps not so with the food, but the wine was every bit as good as the mason had claimed.
Furthermore, Holo, who normally had at least some regard for Lawrence's wallet, was not bothered in the least by villagers taking her stories as having equal value to their wine; she glugged it down without restraint, becoming even more talkative about this and that.
But even Holo's strength against wine was not infinite; nor was the variety of stories she could tell as great as dandelions in spring were many.
Though Holo hardly needed to be told either of these things, for whatever reason, she did not stand up while inside the ring of villagers around her.
Even so, it felt like it was just about time to end this; also, that standing up might prove difficult.
There probably really was not any more for her to talk about; Lawrence had his doubts she could even taste the wine anymore.
Watching Holo like that as the furthest person in the ring of people, Lawrence was somewhat at a loss as to what to do. Normally, he ought to put an immediate stop to it, saying, "We'll have a fun time again tomorrow," to take the steam out of them. Then, when "tomorrow" came, they just needed to set off before anyone was the wiser.
It might seem a cold and arbitrary way of doing things, but one could hardly be a traveler without doing at least that much.
The problem was if Holo had different ideas, pulling her out of the throng would only backfire. Holo was not the little girl she seemed to be; indeed, she was as pampered and stubborn as any princess.
As he thought about that, his eyes met Holo's as if on cue.
Even if her look didn't quite say, "I want some help here," it was close enough.


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

Input:
"It was the wolf he'd helped?!" Someone shouted in his excitement, earning a smack to his head from someone else.
But it was clear this was where it was going and what everyone was waiting for.
A wolf, never to be domesticated by man, saved the village from danger, for he never forgot his debt from long ago.
It was not the moving tale that the villagers sought; it was the possibility itself that such a thing could happen in some far-off land.
"In the end, the villagers offered all the salt-pickled meat they had. But they did not eat the villagers even so. After all, wolves do not eat ears of wheat. And so, the village managed to get through the winter that year."
"Ohh..."
Men, women, and of course children were all lost in the tale.
Anyone who had listened to stories at an inn had a fairly good grasp of which stories were true and which were fabrications. Even so, few thought this story was false.
Holo told seven or eight stories more. Some were stories of things she and Lawrence had been dragged into; others Lawrence had never heard of before.
In villages like this, which seemed to transform every drop of the high-quality spring beside it into wine, Holo was wont to say, "I have no more stories to tell," casually pouring more wine into her tankard all the while.
Therefore, a number of her stories might have been flat-out lies.
"And? Is there more? Other stories like that to tell?"
"No, how about tales of chivalry! There's lots of those all over the place, right?"
"I want to talk about the Church. There's things I want to ask people on a pilgrimage. Is it true that the Holy Mother is at the cathedral in the Belan Mountains?"
It continued like that, one after another.
The village headman, rather than admonishing the villagers as headman for their shamelessness, seemed to be busy lightly engraving the story Holo had told into a roll of tree bark with a finely pared stone.
"Hmmm. But really, I am all out..."
Holo spoke with a laugh as if in mild distress, but of course the villagers would not let her escape so easily.
"Hey, looks like you're running low on wine. Lemme pour some more!"
"Hey, hey, God forgives people for drinking all the time. We don't get these chances very often, so please, tell us more stories like that one!"
Perhaps not so with the food, but the wine was every bit as good as the mason had claimed.
Furthermore, Holo, who normally had at least some regard for Lawrence's wallet, was not bothered in the least by villagers taking her stories as having equal value to their wine; she glugged it down without restraint, becoming even more talkative about this and that.
But even Holo's strength against wine was not infinite; nor was the variety of stories she could tell as great as dandelions in spring were many.
Though Holo hardly needed to be told either of these things, for whatever reason, she did not stand up while inside the ring of villagers around her.
Even so, it felt like it was just about time to end this; also, that standing up might prove difficult.
There probably really was not any more for her to talk about; Lawrence had his doubts she could even taste the wine anymore.
Watching Holo like that as the furthest person in the ring of people, Lawrence was somewhat at a loss as to what to do. Normally, he ought to put an immediate stop to it, saying, "We'll have a fun time again tomorrow," to take the steam out of them. Then, when "tomorrow" came, they just needed to set off before anyone was the wiser.
It might seem a cold and arbitrary way of doing things, but one could hardly be a traveler without doing at least that much.
The problem was if Holo had different ideas, pulling her out of the throng would only backfire. Holo was not the little girl she seemed to be; indeed, she was as pampered and stubborn as any princess.
As he thought about that, his eyes met Holo's as if on cue.
Even if her look didn't quite say, "I want some help here," it was close enough.

Output:
Goodness, thought Lawrence with a sigh, rising up.
"I'm very sorry, but..."
The atmosphere soured the moment Lawrence pushed through the people clustered around Holo.
Of course, he could not help but think, Damn you for making me play the villain.
The villagers seemed to be arguing over Holo continuing her stories, but it was the village headman who calmed things down.
Notwithstanding how much he seemed to be a childlike mass of innocence and inquisitiveness, when it was time to do his duty, the headman carried it through.
The villagers seemed disappointed, but as Lawrence, keeping his mouth shut, embraced Holo, their gazes were like those given after a feast.
One young lady took a tallow candle in hand and led the way for Lawrence and Holo. She guided them to a large barn beside the village headman's house that stored about a year's supply of food for the villagers.
The common barn had been built sturdier than the villagers' own houses, but the villagers thought this perfectly normal.
In the center of the barn, a single bed had been prepared, a bed made of bales of straw tied together with hemp rope, piled up in what seemed to have been a great hurry. Surely whether they thought this was tactful, or simply had nothing else to provide, was something better not asked.
Lawrence gave the girl a smile on his face and a silver piece of middling value as he uttered his thanks.
After accepting the silver coin, the girl reverently opened the door; after, Lawrence could see her jumping for joy as she returned to her cottage.
"So, why didn't you get up before it got to this point?"
As he laid Holo down upon the bed of straw, the moonlight shining through the skylight built for summer use shone right on top of Holo's belly. Thanks to that, he could not see her expression all that well, but he could tell it was an annoyed one.
"Goodness..."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo made a small groan in her throat, probably because it was so very dry from having spoken too much.
"...Water."
Then, what came out was but that single word.
"...Hold on."
Surely it would have been no great sin to say something sarcastic.
However much she might blame it on drinking wine, she had been a complete child to make it a huge ruckus like that.
Mixing in a sigh, Lawrence searched the room with his eyes, but there was no water pitcher to be found. Apparently, so few were the travelers who stayed overnight that the villagers had neglected that detail.
"There's no water pitcher. Hold on a bit, I'll go draw some water."
But just as Lawrence spoke, starting to move away from the bed...
"Me, too..."
With that, she grabbed hold of Lawrence's trousers.
Usually, when Holo was drunk and lay down once, she never rose again till noon the next day, so this was a rare sight.
"I spoke too much...My face is hot. There's a brook near here, yes?"
Certainly, after having been sandwiched by that large a crowd and drinking wine, it was good to at least wash one's face.
Lawrence lent Holo his shoulder as they left the barn.
"Whew..."
As they went outside, Holo sighed, as if finally being able to breathe again.
In the first place, Holo was the type of person who could merrily brush off a request, calling it troublesome or something like that.
Yes, she had been passed quite a bit of wine, but she had given the villagers a lavish performance.
"Well, looked like you had fun."
Though Holo sometimes seemed in danger of tripping, she did not seem to be quite that drunk and walked properly on her own two feet.
Or perhaps Holo could walk on her own two feet just fine, but she wanted to pretend she was drunk.
Holo always seemed embarrassed when she had done her best for something, so it was entirely possible she was trying to conceal a blush.
"...Pwah!"
The two went as far as the brook that crossed the quiet village's road; there, Holo washed her face in the cold springwater.


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

Input:
Goodness, thought Lawrence with a sigh, rising up.
"I'm very sorry, but..."
The atmosphere soured the moment Lawrence pushed through the people clustered around Holo.
Of course, he could not help but think, Damn you for making me play the villain.
The villagers seemed to be arguing over Holo continuing her stories, but it was the village headman who calmed things down.
Notwithstanding how much he seemed to be a childlike mass of innocence and inquisitiveness, when it was time to do his duty, the headman carried it through.
The villagers seemed disappointed, but as Lawrence, keeping his mouth shut, embraced Holo, their gazes were like those given after a feast.
One young lady took a tallow candle in hand and led the way for Lawrence and Holo. She guided them to a large barn beside the village headman's house that stored about a year's supply of food for the villagers.
The common barn had been built sturdier than the villagers' own houses, but the villagers thought this perfectly normal.
In the center of the barn, a single bed had been prepared, a bed made of bales of straw tied together with hemp rope, piled up in what seemed to have been a great hurry. Surely whether they thought this was tactful, or simply had nothing else to provide, was something better not asked.
Lawrence gave the girl a smile on his face and a silver piece of middling value as he uttered his thanks.
After accepting the silver coin, the girl reverently opened the door; after, Lawrence could see her jumping for joy as she returned to her cottage.
"So, why didn't you get up before it got to this point?"
As he laid Holo down upon the bed of straw, the moonlight shining through the skylight built for summer use shone right on top of Holo's belly. Thanks to that, he could not see her expression all that well, but he could tell it was an annoyed one.
"Goodness..."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo made a small groan in her throat, probably because it was so very dry from having spoken too much.
"...Water."
Then, what came out was but that single word.
"...Hold on."
Surely it would have been no great sin to say something sarcastic.
However much she might blame it on drinking wine, she had been a complete child to make it a huge ruckus like that.
Mixing in a sigh, Lawrence searched the room with his eyes, but there was no water pitcher to be found. Apparently, so few were the travelers who stayed overnight that the villagers had neglected that detail.
"There's no water pitcher. Hold on a bit, I'll go draw some water."
But just as Lawrence spoke, starting to move away from the bed...
"Me, too..."
With that, she grabbed hold of Lawrence's trousers.
Usually, when Holo was drunk and lay down once, she never rose again till noon the next day, so this was a rare sight.
"I spoke too much...My face is hot. There's a brook near here, yes?"
Certainly, after having been sandwiched by that large a crowd and drinking wine, it was good to at least wash one's face.
Lawrence lent Holo his shoulder as they left the barn.
"Whew..."
As they went outside, Holo sighed, as if finally being able to breathe again.
In the first place, Holo was the type of person who could merrily brush off a request, calling it troublesome or something like that.
Yes, she had been passed quite a bit of wine, but she had given the villagers a lavish performance.
"Well, looked like you had fun."
Though Holo sometimes seemed in danger of tripping, she did not seem to be quite that drunk and walked properly on her own two feet.
Or perhaps Holo could walk on her own two feet just fine, but she wanted to pretend she was drunk.
Holo always seemed embarrassed when she had done her best for something, so it was entirely possible she was trying to conceal a blush.
"...Pwah!"
The two went as far as the brook that crossed the quiet village's road; there, Holo washed her face in the cold springwater.

Output:
After drinking a fair amount, Holo suddenly had had enough; she lifted her face and pulled her body back up.
Then, Holo used the hand towel she had hung from her waist to wipe off her face, nonchalantly wiping both hands off as well.
There were no words of thanks, but when Holo stood up, she grasped Lawrence's hand.
"Is this not enough?" she might have said, but he wondered if it really meant there was no complaint for her to make.
"What is with this, though?"
"Mm?"
The path extended in a perfectly straight line from the brook to the barn, precisely wide enough for two people walking side by side.
Holo spoke softly as the two of them walked together under the moonlight.
"I did not think they would be that insistent. I wanted to slip out somehow, but..."
Pausing to take a breath, she made an embarrassed-sounding laugh.
"I got scared midway."
Lawrence was a little surprised that Holo had had the same thought.
"People are more frightening. Once wolves and bears' bellies are full, there is nothing to fear from them. But people are not limited by such concerns; when abstract things are concerned, all the more so."
She spoke as if out of pique, but the side of her face looked mildly amused.
It was probably something she thought she, too, should reflect upon.
"It would be nice if you always remembered that..."
"Mmm."
Holo pouted, but she did not move away from Lawrence; to the contrary, she butted her head against his arm.
"But I must wonder."
"Mmm?"
"What did they expect from me?"
Judging from the side of her face, it was not a joke, so Lawrence thought for a while before parroting her words.
"What...you ask?"
"I know they wanted amusing tales. That is not what I mean."
Apparently annoyed, the tone of her voice became prickly.
It seemed the wine had made her a fair bit moodier.
"That is not what I mean...Surely my stories were not amusing enough to listen to them so seriously? Or were they so fascinating? A number of them were lies, and obvious ones at that, yet even so?"
So she really did mix lies in, he thought with a somewhat strained smile, but he somehow understood what Holo was getting at.
After all, the villagers had truly been desperate.
It was as if they felt it was more important to hear as many stories as was possible than to enjoy them.
There was no mistaking that this had thrown Holo off her stride.
Perhaps the reason she had not gotten up when drunk from her wine and running out of stories to tell was because the desperation of the villagers was so incomprehensible, her legs just would not move.
But the answer Lawrence immediately prepared within himself was a very simple one.
Indeed, it was so simple an answer that Holo might be upset once he told her.
Hence, he thought he should dress it up somehow, but nothing came to mind.
Giving up, he spoke. "To put it bluntly...Because they're villagers."
It must have sounded like the sort of ill-tempered reply one would get from a hermit.
Holo made a pout as she looked up at Lawrence.
Really, he did not mind seeing Holo a little angry and a bit sullen like this.
But the straw bed the friendly villagers had prepared beckoned just beyond.
Since he did not want to sleep on the hard ground, Lawrence spoke.
"This path..."
And he pointed to the path they were currently walking upon.
It was a pretty path that stretched from the brook past several houses, right past the front of the village headman's house, and right in front of the barn.
"It's probably the prettiest path in the village."
Holo looked behind her, then ahead, then finally back at Lawrence.
"What of it?" her skeptical eyes seemed to say.
"Haven't you noticed something since we started walking?"
As Lawrence asked, Holo's face grew even more dubious. Her eyebrows were scowling so much that she really did look angry.
As Lawrence did not think Holo would arrive at the correct answer by herself, he laid it out before she became genuinely angry.
"This path is just wide enough for two adults to walk along it, holding hands."


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

Input:
After drinking a fair amount, Holo suddenly had had enough; she lifted her face and pulled her body back up.
Then, Holo used the hand towel she had hung from her waist to wipe off her face, nonchalantly wiping both hands off as well.
There were no words of thanks, but when Holo stood up, she grasped Lawrence's hand.
"Is this not enough?" she might have said, but he wondered if it really meant there was no complaint for her to make.
"What is with this, though?"
"Mm?"
The path extended in a perfectly straight line from the brook to the barn, precisely wide enough for two people walking side by side.
Holo spoke softly as the two of them walked together under the moonlight.
"I did not think they would be that insistent. I wanted to slip out somehow, but..."
Pausing to take a breath, she made an embarrassed-sounding laugh.
"I got scared midway."
Lawrence was a little surprised that Holo had had the same thought.
"People are more frightening. Once wolves and bears' bellies are full, there is nothing to fear from them. But people are not limited by such concerns; when abstract things are concerned, all the more so."
She spoke as if out of pique, but the side of her face looked mildly amused.
It was probably something she thought she, too, should reflect upon.
"It would be nice if you always remembered that..."
"Mmm."
Holo pouted, but she did not move away from Lawrence; to the contrary, she butted her head against his arm.
"But I must wonder."
"Mmm?"
"What did they expect from me?"
Judging from the side of her face, it was not a joke, so Lawrence thought for a while before parroting her words.
"What...you ask?"
"I know they wanted amusing tales. That is not what I mean."
Apparently annoyed, the tone of her voice became prickly.
It seemed the wine had made her a fair bit moodier.
"That is not what I mean...Surely my stories were not amusing enough to listen to them so seriously? Or were they so fascinating? A number of them were lies, and obvious ones at that, yet even so?"
So she really did mix lies in, he thought with a somewhat strained smile, but he somehow understood what Holo was getting at.
After all, the villagers had truly been desperate.
It was as if they felt it was more important to hear as many stories as was possible than to enjoy them.
There was no mistaking that this had thrown Holo off her stride.
Perhaps the reason she had not gotten up when drunk from her wine and running out of stories to tell was because the desperation of the villagers was so incomprehensible, her legs just would not move.
But the answer Lawrence immediately prepared within himself was a very simple one.
Indeed, it was so simple an answer that Holo might be upset once he told her.
Hence, he thought he should dress it up somehow, but nothing came to mind.
Giving up, he spoke. "To put it bluntly...Because they're villagers."
It must have sounded like the sort of ill-tempered reply one would get from a hermit.
Holo made a pout as she looked up at Lawrence.
Really, he did not mind seeing Holo a little angry and a bit sullen like this.
But the straw bed the friendly villagers had prepared beckoned just beyond.
Since he did not want to sleep on the hard ground, Lawrence spoke.
"This path..."
And he pointed to the path they were currently walking upon.
It was a pretty path that stretched from the brook past several houses, right past the front of the village headman's house, and right in front of the barn.
"It's probably the prettiest path in the village."
Holo looked behind her, then ahead, then finally back at Lawrence.
"What of it?" her skeptical eyes seemed to say.
"Haven't you noticed something since we started walking?"
As Lawrence asked, Holo's face grew even more dubious. Her eyebrows were scowling so much that she really did look angry.
As Lawrence did not think Holo would arrive at the correct answer by herself, he laid it out before she became genuinely angry.
"This path is just wide enough for two adults to walk along it, holding hands."

Output:
"No doubt it's like this from the brook till it ends."
Since Holo was a little too small to be adult sized and was snuggled up to Lawrence like this, there was a bit of room to spare.
Even so, Holo displayed tentative agreement with Lawrence's words.
"But since it's too narrow for two horse-drawn wagons to pass by each other, the path through the field over there is probably wider."
It was precisely because this was a remote village that a wide path was needed for transporting bundles of straw, produce, and livestock.
"And yet, this path, connecting most of the houses in the village, is only this wide. There's a reason for that."
"Aye...?"
Though her sourness had vanished, it felt like she might say at any moment, If this answer is not interesting, you shall regret it.
But paying little heed, Lawrence made a small smile as he spoke.
"If we walk to the end, you'll see. And, it'll serve as the answer to your own question, too."
"Aye..."
If you put it that way, let us walk.
Making a sigh that seemed to express that, Holo leisurely walked with Lawrence along the path.
As the season was winter, there were no frogs, nor the sounds of birds or insects.
Having been silent this far, one would think it would remain silent the rest of the way.
The only warmth rested between their palms as they walked straight down the simple path.
The village, which Lawrence did not even know the name of, did not reach very far.
They soon arrived at the end of the path.
And when they arrived at that place, Holo squeezed Lawrence's hand just a little harder.
"This is the answer."
As Lawrence spoke, he looked at Holo beside him.
Holo stood silently in place, staring squarely at where the path ended.
"This village begins at the brook, but for other villages it can be a well. Anyway, it begins where there is water, and here is where it ends. You understand why the path is so narrow now, don't you?"
Even though the moon was out, it was nowhere anyone wanted to go to in the middle of the night.
This was the village's graveyard, the final destination at the end of the villagers' lives.
"Wide enough to carry a casket?"
"Yes. The brook is used for baptism, and when you die, you reach the end of this path. If the sun was out, you could see this place straight from the brook. The villagers' lives have no twists or turns. There are no detours. Where they were born and where they shall die were determined long ago. That's why they want to know about the outside world."
The stories being interesting was of secondary importance.
Holo patted a stake of the fence surrounding the graveyard and let out a long, narrow, white breath.
"You see what I mean?"
Holo nodded.
And after she nodded, she made a vexed smile.
"It would have been nice to speak with them more."
It was kindness typical of her, he thought.
"But ah yes..."
Holo lifted her chin and looked over all of the graveyard, which was not all that large, and tilted her head ever so slightly.
"This is the natural order for many people, is it not?"
"I suppose so. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be any business for traveling merchants."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo said, "Quite true," and laughed.
"Well, the world is full of many things. Now I have become wiser about one more."
As Holo spoke with an intentionally comedic tone, she let go of Lawrence's hand and spun around on the spot.
"Now that the mystery is solved, shall we go back? My hotness from the wine seems to be cooling."
"I'm all for that. After all, tomorrow..."
Lawrence closed the gap between them, took firm hold of Holo's hand once more, and spoke.
"...we'll be back on the road again."
So long as one journeyed, anything could happen.
Some things would be joyous, others would be sad, and still others, painful.
But so long as their hands were joined and they had a road to follow, they could keep moving forward.
Holo glanced up at Lawrence, her refined lips tapered ever so slightly in a smile.


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

Input:
"No doubt it's like this from the brook till it ends."
Since Holo was a little too small to be adult sized and was snuggled up to Lawrence like this, there was a bit of room to spare.
Even so, Holo displayed tentative agreement with Lawrence's words.
"But since it's too narrow for two horse-drawn wagons to pass by each other, the path through the field over there is probably wider."
It was precisely because this was a remote village that a wide path was needed for transporting bundles of straw, produce, and livestock.
"And yet, this path, connecting most of the houses in the village, is only this wide. There's a reason for that."
"Aye...?"
Though her sourness had vanished, it felt like she might say at any moment, If this answer is not interesting, you shall regret it.
But paying little heed, Lawrence made a small smile as he spoke.
"If we walk to the end, you'll see. And, it'll serve as the answer to your own question, too."
"Aye..."
If you put it that way, let us walk.
Making a sigh that seemed to express that, Holo leisurely walked with Lawrence along the path.
As the season was winter, there were no frogs, nor the sounds of birds or insects.
Having been silent this far, one would think it would remain silent the rest of the way.
The only warmth rested between their palms as they walked straight down the simple path.
The village, which Lawrence did not even know the name of, did not reach very far.
They soon arrived at the end of the path.
And when they arrived at that place, Holo squeezed Lawrence's hand just a little harder.
"This is the answer."
As Lawrence spoke, he looked at Holo beside him.
Holo stood silently in place, staring squarely at where the path ended.
"This village begins at the brook, but for other villages it can be a well. Anyway, it begins where there is water, and here is where it ends. You understand why the path is so narrow now, don't you?"
Even though the moon was out, it was nowhere anyone wanted to go to in the middle of the night.
This was the village's graveyard, the final destination at the end of the villagers' lives.
"Wide enough to carry a casket?"
"Yes. The brook is used for baptism, and when you die, you reach the end of this path. If the sun was out, you could see this place straight from the brook. The villagers' lives have no twists or turns. There are no detours. Where they were born and where they shall die were determined long ago. That's why they want to know about the outside world."
The stories being interesting was of secondary importance.
Holo patted a stake of the fence surrounding the graveyard and let out a long, narrow, white breath.
"You see what I mean?"
Holo nodded.
And after she nodded, she made a vexed smile.
"It would have been nice to speak with them more."
It was kindness typical of her, he thought.
"But ah yes..."
Holo lifted her chin and looked over all of the graveyard, which was not all that large, and tilted her head ever so slightly.
"This is the natural order for many people, is it not?"
"I suppose so. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be any business for traveling merchants."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo said, "Quite true," and laughed.
"Well, the world is full of many things. Now I have become wiser about one more."
As Holo spoke with an intentionally comedic tone, she let go of Lawrence's hand and spun around on the spot.
"Now that the mystery is solved, shall we go back? My hotness from the wine seems to be cooling."
"I'm all for that. After all, tomorrow..."
Lawrence closed the gap between them, took firm hold of Holo's hand once more, and spoke.
"...we'll be back on the road again."
So long as one journeyed, anything could happen.
Some things would be joyous, others would be sad, and still others, painful.
But so long as their hands were joined and they had a road to follow, they could keep moving forward.
Holo glanced up at Lawrence, her refined lips tapered ever so slightly in a smile.

Output:
End
***
It's the last afterword, but actually, I didn't want to write it.
I truly have written all in the Spice and Wolf series that I wanted to.
This volume is centered on an episode taking place a while after the events in volume sixteen, but midway, it became harder to write than anything before it. I really didn't want to write it.
But rather mysteriously, this brought me no anguish. Indeed, it made me very happy.
Really, really—really, I've done this, I've done that, I've done it all, there's no more!
I was able to think such a thought for the first time in my life. My personality has tended to make me get tired of anything, discarding things midway as soon as I get used to them, over and over again.
Besides, in the beginning, not having anything left to write was my nightmare. Fearing this, I reada a great many books. But it seems that the true meaning of not having anything left to write laid elsewhere. So there are things like this, I thought in exasperation; I slumped and grinned a pained grin.
(Bit of a Spice and Wolf joke there.)
Even so, having written these characters for a whole five years, I was able to gather the vestiges of my memories and commit them to paper, but this is a method permitted only once, at the very, very end.
The "intermission" and "conclusion" comprise that one last time. When I reread the short stories I'd jotted down during the same time, made with the sense that I was finishing somewhere, I really surprised myself.
I'm happy that I was able to have fun with the series Spice and Wolf until the final seventeenth volume.
Now then, even though I just said I've written everything I wanted to, I have a bunch of other things I already want to do. Volume sixteenish in...you might blame me for writing "summerish" as too optimistic, but it'll be within the year! I'm sure of it!
After that, I'm picking at some private creative activities, so if you see me somewhere else, please take a look!
And so, the long journey of Spice and Wolf comes to an end.
To all who participated in this series, and to all the readers who read to the very end, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart as I lower the curtain.
Isuna Hasekura
***
The snow-covered evergreens stood silently, like soldiers. It was quiet all around, and only a distant, crisp birdsong broke the silence.
Had there been at least one cloud in the sky the man's mind could have wandered, but today the sky was as deep a blue as the ocean floor. Unsure of what to do with himself, in the end he simply stared at his feet.
"Well then, let's get going."
The man heard the voice, and when he looked up, everything was ready.
With a somber look, the leading priest bowed once. Behind him, two men held staves roughly the height of a person and adorned with heavy-looking metal crests. On both sides behind them stood six more men, carrying a coffin on their shoulders.
"May God and the spirits grant us their protection."
The priest chanted solemnly as they slowly began to move. As they did, people hesitantly came out from beneath the evergreens that lined the street.
Some had dressed for the occasion, while others seemed to have come straight from work. They were uncertain, like deer that spotted a person in the woods. But encouraged by the priest, they approached the coffin and each whispered their parting words. Though their murmurs were brief, the man could tell they had thought carefully about what to say and their words were full of feeling. As he listened, he began to feel as though these words were meant for him, and his head fell toward his chest a bit.
No, I shouldn't interpret it that way—he cleared his mind of those thoughts as they neared a corner and turned onto the next road.


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

Input:
End
***
It's the last afterword, but actually, I didn't want to write it.
I truly have written all in the Spice and Wolf series that I wanted to.
This volume is centered on an episode taking place a while after the events in volume sixteen, but midway, it became harder to write than anything before it. I really didn't want to write it.
But rather mysteriously, this brought me no anguish. Indeed, it made me very happy.
Really, really—really, I've done this, I've done that, I've done it all, there's no more!
I was able to think such a thought for the first time in my life. My personality has tended to make me get tired of anything, discarding things midway as soon as I get used to them, over and over again.
Besides, in the beginning, not having anything left to write was my nightmare. Fearing this, I reada a great many books. But it seems that the true meaning of not having anything left to write laid elsewhere. So there are things like this, I thought in exasperation; I slumped and grinned a pained grin.
(Bit of a Spice and Wolf joke there.)
Even so, having written these characters for a whole five years, I was able to gather the vestiges of my memories and commit them to paper, but this is a method permitted only once, at the very, very end.
The "intermission" and "conclusion" comprise that one last time. When I reread the short stories I'd jotted down during the same time, made with the sense that I was finishing somewhere, I really surprised myself.
I'm happy that I was able to have fun with the series Spice and Wolf until the final seventeenth volume.
Now then, even though I just said I've written everything I wanted to, I have a bunch of other things I already want to do. Volume sixteenish in...you might blame me for writing "summerish" as too optimistic, but it'll be within the year! I'm sure of it!
After that, I'm picking at some private creative activities, so if you see me somewhere else, please take a look!
And so, the long journey of Spice and Wolf comes to an end.
To all who participated in this series, and to all the readers who read to the very end, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart as I lower the curtain.
Isuna Hasekura
***
The snow-covered evergreens stood silently, like soldiers. It was quiet all around, and only a distant, crisp birdsong broke the silence.
Had there been at least one cloud in the sky the man's mind could have wandered, but today the sky was as deep a blue as the ocean floor. Unsure of what to do with himself, in the end he simply stared at his feet.
"Well then, let's get going."
The man heard the voice, and when he looked up, everything was ready.
With a somber look, the leading priest bowed once. Behind him, two men held staves roughly the height of a person and adorned with heavy-looking metal crests. On both sides behind them stood six more men, carrying a coffin on their shoulders.
"May God and the spirits grant us their protection."
The priest chanted solemnly as they slowly began to move. As they did, people hesitantly came out from beneath the evergreens that lined the street.
Some had dressed for the occasion, while others seemed to have come straight from work. They were uncertain, like deer that spotted a person in the woods. But encouraged by the priest, they approached the coffin and each whispered their parting words. Though their murmurs were brief, the man could tell they had thought carefully about what to say and their words were full of feeling. As he listened, he began to feel as though these words were meant for him, and his head fell toward his chest a bit.
No, I shouldn't interpret it that way—he cleared his mind of those thoughts as they neared a corner and turned onto the next road.

Output:
As though the men carrying the crests in front of the procession shared a similar sentiment in their hearts, they held their staves up even higher. A sign glinted dully in the winter sun.
A lone wolf was engraved upon it.
"Under God's protection, we have safely reached his house. May the spirit of our friend find eternal peace here."
The priest made his announcement before a shed—a place deep in these mountains that had been hastily redecorated as a church—and the people bowed their heads reverently. The priest nodded, and the men carried the coffin into the shed. After waiting a moment, the man followed them into the shed and found it had already been placed at the altar. As though opening the way for him, the men split to either side and exited. They closed the door, likely out of consideration.
Slowly, he approached the coffin and sat down beside it.
He removed the veil from the face resting within the flowers, and it was almost as though he could hear silly-sounding snores even now.
"I never thought I would be the one to lead your funeral."
As Lawrence spoke, he stroked the lightly powdered face lying in the coffin.
"Holo."
From beyond the door, he could hear the deeply somber sound of a bell.
It had happened one sunny winter day...
The smell of lunch still lingered in the dining hall, and a lute's gentle melody drifted from the baths.
He had been working nonstop since before sunrise, and by the time he could finally take a breather, it was already late in the afternoon.
"The Land of Hidden Water, Nyohhira. Still, the only ones who can relax are the customers, eh?"
Lawrence, owner of the Spice and Wolf bathhouse, stretched his head and cracked his neck. There was any number of reasons for his troubles.
For example, many of his customers were high-ranking clergy, and they usually made quite selfish requests. When they insisted on praying early in the morning, Lawrence had no choice but to comply. For that, he had various duties, such as readying their scriptures, cutting the candlesticks to a uniform length before lighting them, and laying out a fur rug for their comfort when they kneeled to pray.
While they prayed to God, oblivious to the pains he had to endure, Lawrence began cleaning the baths. Afterward, he put away the utensils that the late-night customers left out from the previous evening, threw away garbage, scooped out fallen leaves from the springs, and splashed some hot water around to thaw the path that connected the main house to the baths. Sometimes, there were even critters hiding in the water that needed to be chased away.
As he did all this, smoke began to rise from the kitchen chimney, and a new fight began—preparing breakfast. The idea that a clergyman's breakfast should be simple and easy was almost nonexistent. Customers ate and drank until they slept, and they of course ordered plenty of breakfast.
Lawrence earnestly did the washing next to the cook, Hanna, who skillfully performed the work of three people on her own. It was not as though it was the owner's job to wash dishes normally. But after losing the two workers whose duties included these menial jobs, a few sacrifices were necessary.
Afterward, he had to care for the customers that trickled in for their morning meal, ready towels and coats for guests headed to the baths, and act as manager when the musicians and dancers arrived. The baths varied in size, and how much performers earned depended on the place—and it was up to Lawrence as owner to decide who performed where in a way that would not upset the musicians and dancers.


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

Input:
As though the men carrying the crests in front of the procession shared a similar sentiment in their hearts, they held their staves up even higher. A sign glinted dully in the winter sun.
A lone wolf was engraved upon it.
"Under God's protection, we have safely reached his house. May the spirit of our friend find eternal peace here."
The priest made his announcement before a shed—a place deep in these mountains that had been hastily redecorated as a church—and the people bowed their heads reverently. The priest nodded, and the men carried the coffin into the shed. After waiting a moment, the man followed them into the shed and found it had already been placed at the altar. As though opening the way for him, the men split to either side and exited. They closed the door, likely out of consideration.
Slowly, he approached the coffin and sat down beside it.
He removed the veil from the face resting within the flowers, and it was almost as though he could hear silly-sounding snores even now.
"I never thought I would be the one to lead your funeral."
As Lawrence spoke, he stroked the lightly powdered face lying in the coffin.
"Holo."
From beyond the door, he could hear the deeply somber sound of a bell.
It had happened one sunny winter day...
The smell of lunch still lingered in the dining hall, and a lute's gentle melody drifted from the baths.
He had been working nonstop since before sunrise, and by the time he could finally take a breather, it was already late in the afternoon.
"The Land of Hidden Water, Nyohhira. Still, the only ones who can relax are the customers, eh?"
Lawrence, owner of the Spice and Wolf bathhouse, stretched his head and cracked his neck. There was any number of reasons for his troubles.
For example, many of his customers were high-ranking clergy, and they usually made quite selfish requests. When they insisted on praying early in the morning, Lawrence had no choice but to comply. For that, he had various duties, such as readying their scriptures, cutting the candlesticks to a uniform length before lighting them, and laying out a fur rug for their comfort when they kneeled to pray.
While they prayed to God, oblivious to the pains he had to endure, Lawrence began cleaning the baths. Afterward, he put away the utensils that the late-night customers left out from the previous evening, threw away garbage, scooped out fallen leaves from the springs, and splashed some hot water around to thaw the path that connected the main house to the baths. Sometimes, there were even critters hiding in the water that needed to be chased away.
As he did all this, smoke began to rise from the kitchen chimney, and a new fight began—preparing breakfast. The idea that a clergyman's breakfast should be simple and easy was almost nonexistent. Customers ate and drank until they slept, and they of course ordered plenty of breakfast.
Lawrence earnestly did the washing next to the cook, Hanna, who skillfully performed the work of three people on her own. It was not as though it was the owner's job to wash dishes normally. But after losing the two workers whose duties included these menial jobs, a few sacrifices were necessary.
Afterward, he had to care for the customers that trickled in for their morning meal, ready towels and coats for guests headed to the baths, and act as manager when the musicians and dancers arrived. The baths varied in size, and how much performers earned depended on the place—and it was up to Lawrence as owner to decide who performed where in a way that would not upset the musicians and dancers.

Output:
Then, as the last breakfast plate was being stored away, he had to line up lunch for the early comers.
Lawrence sometimes felt as though all this work was in vain, like trying to catch an entire downpour in a single pot. But so long as he worked his hardest, it would end someday.
And all this excitement was only supposed to be a brief test of patience.
"Good work today."
Lawrence sat down in the now-quiet dining hall to take a breather by the corner, and in came Hanna, to whom it would be somewhat rude to call a young girl. Though she was not physically imposing by any means, Hanna had a commanding air about her and did not show a single trace of fatigue from the morning's commotion. If someone had told him that she had raised ten children all on her own, he would have believed it.
On the tray she carried, there was a bowl brimming with baked beans, thick-cut smoked meat, and wine. Garlic and mustard garnished the meat, its fat still sizzling, and it smelled as good as sin. Lawrence remembered he had not eaten since morning and gulped.
"You too, Hanna."
Though he was the owner, he did not forget to give thanks before wolfing down his food. Hanna may or may not have noticed his tactfulness as she laid out his utensils and poured wine into his cup. He scooped the beans into his mouth with a spoon, and his salt-deprived body was happy.
"I don't mind so much that we lost our two helpers so quickly, but if you collapsed, sir, we'd lose everything."
Shivering at the luxury of washing down salty food with wine, he cut himself another slice of the well-preserved meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
He was finally getting used to being called "sir."
"Of course, I plan on hiring new workers, but I don't think this excitement is going to last much longer. It's almost time for spring to arrive at the bottom of the mountain."
"Oh, it's almost that time already? The winters are so long up here in the mountains, you forget about the rest of the seasons."
"You're not excited for spring, Hanna?"
The word winter carried the same meaning as the word perseverance for those who lived in the mountains, where the snow piled high. Everything—people and animals and trees—withdrew, dreaming of the release spring would bring.
"That's not quite true, sir. But once winter's over, everyone goes down the mountain, and the bathhouse is slow until summer. That makes me a little sad."
She crossed her arms and touched her cheek, gazing off into the distance, and Lawrence forced a smile. He should have felt the same—his purpose in life was supposed to be working hard and staying busy—but Hanna was special. In terms of being a helper, no one could be more reassuring than she was. But Lawrence pined for spring's arrival as much as anyone else. He for the chance to rest that season would provide, since his body could not handle strain like it used to. In light of all this, Hanna's words stung a little.
On the other hand, as a former merchant who could not stand pointless waste, the period between winter and summer bothered him like a rock in his shoe. If he could get some customers to come during that time, then he could rest and work and profit all at once, but plans for that were not progressing much.
"Anyway, is your wife still asleep?"
It was long past noon, but the bathhouse's mistress was nowhere to be seen.
Lawrence put more baked beans to his mouth and rewarded himself with some high-quality imported wine before biting into meat he covered in mustard. Then he spoke.
"She's the kind that can't wait for spring."
"My."
Hanna gave a small smile. "I'll go prepare for dinner." And she returned to the kitchen.
Lawrence took his time eating, and when he finished, he washed the dishes himself. Then he immediately poured wine into a small carafe and headed for their bedroom on the second floor of the bathhouse.


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

Input:
Then, as the last breakfast plate was being stored away, he had to line up lunch for the early comers.
Lawrence sometimes felt as though all this work was in vain, like trying to catch an entire downpour in a single pot. But so long as he worked his hardest, it would end someday.
And all this excitement was only supposed to be a brief test of patience.
"Good work today."
Lawrence sat down in the now-quiet dining hall to take a breather by the corner, and in came Hanna, to whom it would be somewhat rude to call a young girl. Though she was not physically imposing by any means, Hanna had a commanding air about her and did not show a single trace of fatigue from the morning's commotion. If someone had told him that she had raised ten children all on her own, he would have believed it.
On the tray she carried, there was a bowl brimming with baked beans, thick-cut smoked meat, and wine. Garlic and mustard garnished the meat, its fat still sizzling, and it smelled as good as sin. Lawrence remembered he had not eaten since morning and gulped.
"You too, Hanna."
Though he was the owner, he did not forget to give thanks before wolfing down his food. Hanna may or may not have noticed his tactfulness as she laid out his utensils and poured wine into his cup. He scooped the beans into his mouth with a spoon, and his salt-deprived body was happy.
"I don't mind so much that we lost our two helpers so quickly, but if you collapsed, sir, we'd lose everything."
Shivering at the luxury of washing down salty food with wine, he cut himself another slice of the well-preserved meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
He was finally getting used to being called "sir."
"Of course, I plan on hiring new workers, but I don't think this excitement is going to last much longer. It's almost time for spring to arrive at the bottom of the mountain."
"Oh, it's almost that time already? The winters are so long up here in the mountains, you forget about the rest of the seasons."
"You're not excited for spring, Hanna?"
The word winter carried the same meaning as the word perseverance for those who lived in the mountains, where the snow piled high. Everything—people and animals and trees—withdrew, dreaming of the release spring would bring.
"That's not quite true, sir. But once winter's over, everyone goes down the mountain, and the bathhouse is slow until summer. That makes me a little sad."
She crossed her arms and touched her cheek, gazing off into the distance, and Lawrence forced a smile. He should have felt the same—his purpose in life was supposed to be working hard and staying busy—but Hanna was special. In terms of being a helper, no one could be more reassuring than she was. But Lawrence pined for spring's arrival as much as anyone else. He for the chance to rest that season would provide, since his body could not handle strain like it used to. In light of all this, Hanna's words stung a little.
On the other hand, as a former merchant who could not stand pointless waste, the period between winter and summer bothered him like a rock in his shoe. If he could get some customers to come during that time, then he could rest and work and profit all at once, but plans for that were not progressing much.
"Anyway, is your wife still asleep?"
It was long past noon, but the bathhouse's mistress was nowhere to be seen.
Lawrence put more baked beans to his mouth and rewarded himself with some high-quality imported wine before biting into meat he covered in mustard. Then he spoke.
"She's the kind that can't wait for spring."
"My."
Hanna gave a small smile. "I'll go prepare for dinner." And she returned to the kitchen.
Lawrence took his time eating, and when he finished, he washed the dishes himself. Then he immediately poured wine into a small carafe and headed for their bedroom on the second floor of the bathhouse.

Output:
"Hey, how long are you planning on sleeping?" He called out to the lump on the bed, but not a single word came in response. The tightly curled bulge seemed to indicate closing the window would not be worth the effort.
Exasperated, Lawrence sighed and placed the wine on a desk where a quill and stacks of papers sat. There was still no answer, and he began to feel a bit worried.
"Holo?"
He called, but there was no movement. He approached the bed and gently pulled back the covers. Underneath was the sleeping face of a teenage girl. Usually, she arranged her hair and clothes to appear less girl-like, but looking at her now, he could see how young she appeared to be. She had long hair like nobility, and her spotless, pearl-like skin did not seem at all like it belonged to someone whose livelihood included hard labor. The way she quietly lay there—eyes closed, unmoving—was as though she had been freed from all sorts of pain and agony. Her peaceful face almost made him think, If I was to die, I'd want to die like this.
As Lawrence's finger touched her cheek, the girl's ears twitched. They topped her head, large and pointy. They were triangular and a shade darker than her flaxen hair. Simply put, they were animal ears, and they protruded outward. What's more, a tail covered in a fine coat of fur grew from her lower back. Holo was not the young girl she seemed, and her true form was a wolf that could easily devour a person in one bite, a spirit that had slept hundreds of years in wheat.
Lawrence could not thank the gods enough for the luck that, in some twist of fate, led her to become his wife.
But daily life did not play out like a fairy tale.
Lawrence saw her rather fidgety ears, which were unlike her unchanging, sleeping expression, and sighed. "If you want to eat, get up and come down to the dining hall."
With that, her sleeping face finally changed. She tightened her already-shut eyes, curled up even more into a taut ball, and the ears on her head wiggled. Under the blanket, her tail was most likely wagging in response to what she heard.
"Haaaahh...ahhh."
At last Holo gave a silly-sounding yawn and opened her eyes just slightly.
"I do not wish to get up..." She spoke selfishly, sounding like a frail, spoiled princess. "Must you keep me up so late all the time...?"
She glanced at him with accusing eyes. But she was not wrong.
"Well, for that...I'm grateful," Lawrence said and leaned closer to Holo's face. "But the sleeping beauty should wake up with this, shouldn't she?"
He kissed her cheek. Holo closed her eyes, and her ears twitched as though she was embarrassed.
He thought that he would grow bored after living under the same roof for ten years, but he did not feel that in the slightest.
What happiness. He smiled to himself, and Holo smiled, too.
"Really, you fool."
"I know you're exhausted from working every night, but you really need to get up. The mending is piling up."
Holo seemed to surrender when Lawrence brought up reality. She gave one last big yawn and crawled out from underneath the blanket. Asking her to do other kinds of work would cause her to complain endlessly, but surprisingly, needlework seemed to suit her very well, and her work was careful and neat.
"Ooh, how cold!"
"Here, wear this."
Lawrence gave his trembling wife a woolen robe to wear and handed her a cup with some wine.
"Not enough." She complained like a child.
"If you're going to drink, do it after you eat. It looks bad if the lady of the house is drunk midday."
"So strict, as always."
Holo grumbled and sipped the wine.
"And? How was last night?" Lawrence asked Holo as they left the room, respectfully putting his arm around her, as though guiding a princess.
"You always fall asleep right away now."
Holo lightly hit his shoulder in complaint.
He partially dodged the blow and cleared his throat. "Isn't that you?" And then he added, "That's, well...That's something I want to work on..."
"Heh-heh. For it is a busy season, yes?"


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

Input:
"Hey, how long are you planning on sleeping?" He called out to the lump on the bed, but not a single word came in response. The tightly curled bulge seemed to indicate closing the window would not be worth the effort.
Exasperated, Lawrence sighed and placed the wine on a desk where a quill and stacks of papers sat. There was still no answer, and he began to feel a bit worried.
"Holo?"
He called, but there was no movement. He approached the bed and gently pulled back the covers. Underneath was the sleeping face of a teenage girl. Usually, she arranged her hair and clothes to appear less girl-like, but looking at her now, he could see how young she appeared to be. She had long hair like nobility, and her spotless, pearl-like skin did not seem at all like it belonged to someone whose livelihood included hard labor. The way she quietly lay there—eyes closed, unmoving—was as though she had been freed from all sorts of pain and agony. Her peaceful face almost made him think, If I was to die, I'd want to die like this.
As Lawrence's finger touched her cheek, the girl's ears twitched. They topped her head, large and pointy. They were triangular and a shade darker than her flaxen hair. Simply put, they were animal ears, and they protruded outward. What's more, a tail covered in a fine coat of fur grew from her lower back. Holo was not the young girl she seemed, and her true form was a wolf that could easily devour a person in one bite, a spirit that had slept hundreds of years in wheat.
Lawrence could not thank the gods enough for the luck that, in some twist of fate, led her to become his wife.
But daily life did not play out like a fairy tale.
Lawrence saw her rather fidgety ears, which were unlike her unchanging, sleeping expression, and sighed. "If you want to eat, get up and come down to the dining hall."
With that, her sleeping face finally changed. She tightened her already-shut eyes, curled up even more into a taut ball, and the ears on her head wiggled. Under the blanket, her tail was most likely wagging in response to what she heard.
"Haaaahh...ahhh."
At last Holo gave a silly-sounding yawn and opened her eyes just slightly.
"I do not wish to get up..." She spoke selfishly, sounding like a frail, spoiled princess. "Must you keep me up so late all the time...?"
She glanced at him with accusing eyes. But she was not wrong.
"Well, for that...I'm grateful," Lawrence said and leaned closer to Holo's face. "But the sleeping beauty should wake up with this, shouldn't she?"
He kissed her cheek. Holo closed her eyes, and her ears twitched as though she was embarrassed.
He thought that he would grow bored after living under the same roof for ten years, but he did not feel that in the slightest.
What happiness. He smiled to himself, and Holo smiled, too.
"Really, you fool."
"I know you're exhausted from working every night, but you really need to get up. The mending is piling up."
Holo seemed to surrender when Lawrence brought up reality. She gave one last big yawn and crawled out from underneath the blanket. Asking her to do other kinds of work would cause her to complain endlessly, but surprisingly, needlework seemed to suit her very well, and her work was careful and neat.
"Ooh, how cold!"
"Here, wear this."
Lawrence gave his trembling wife a woolen robe to wear and handed her a cup with some wine.
"Not enough." She complained like a child.
"If you're going to drink, do it after you eat. It looks bad if the lady of the house is drunk midday."
"So strict, as always."
Holo grumbled and sipped the wine.
"And? How was last night?" Lawrence asked Holo as they left the room, respectfully putting his arm around her, as though guiding a princess.
"You always fall asleep right away now."
Holo lightly hit his shoulder in complaint.
He partially dodged the blow and cleared his throat. "Isn't that you?" And then he added, "That's, well...That's something I want to work on..."
"Heh-heh. For it is a busy season, yes?"

Output:
"And about the mountain last night, 'tis well. I rid the dangerous areas of snow."
"I see. Thanks for that."
Recently, it had been snowing nonstop, and the sun had been stronger with the approaching spring, so there was a risk of avalanches.
Lately, people were carrying more and more goods down the mountain paths. So, the past few days, Holo would return to her wolf form at night and check the worrisome areas.
There was nothing Lawrence could do about it, and it pained him to leave it to Holo. What little comfort he did have was that Holo being Holo, she seemed to have a good time running around the mountains as a wolf. And she seemed to enjoy returning home in the early hours of the morning and throwing her chilled body into the baths while no one was around.
"It's going to be pretty busy tonight until the customers go home, so I appreciate it."
"I do not mind. Smiles when they come and smiles when they go is our bathhouse's selling point."
Running a bathhouse was different from doing everything alone as a merchant. There were times when it was troublesome, but having someone working with him by his side took that trouble and made it his happiness. Lawrence replied to his wife with a pleased expression and a nod, and Holo beamed back a smile like a young girl.
As they went down to the first floor, Holo restlessly pulled the thin robe over her head. Sometimes she felt it was fine to leave it down since their customers were drunk all the time, but she could not let anyone get a good look at her ears. The only ones who knew about her identity in Nyohhira were the ones who worked at this bathhouse.
Entering the dining hall, Hanna brought Holo food, as though she had been listening for their footsteps. There was not too much, but the beans-to-meat ratio leaned much more in favor of meat this time, compared to Lawrence's meal. He smiled wryly. While aware that she was still young, seeing Holo eat this much meat right after waking had him worrying.
He understood and was prepared for the huge difference in life spans between himself and Holo, the avatar of the wolf-who-lived-in-wheat. But slowly, he experienced more and more moments that underscored the reality.
Understanding it with his head was different from seeing it happen in daily life.
Every time he realized it again, he thought about how he wanted to appreciate each and every day.
"Oh."
"Hmm?"
Lawrence gazed at the tomboyish Holo, who was deliciously gulping down meat before speaking slowly.
"'Tis you that must deal with all the trouble. You've been without rest since you lost the other helpers."
"Yeah, well, that's all right. It should be busy for only a bit more, and really I've been too easy on Col. He said he wanted to travel, but I couldn't really stop him."
Over ten years ago, when he met Holo and traveled here and there, getting into all sorts of adventures, they met a boy—Col. At the time, he was a wandering student trying to learn theology and was even younger than how young Holo had already looked.
And now he was a young man the same age as Lawrence was then, and the thought made the older man dread the passage of time.
At the same time, despite all the ups and downs, he felt guilty having Col work in the bathhouse forever when it had always been his dream to become a clergyman.
So Col, after hearing a story from a guest one day, could no longer stand it and finally decided to ask permission to leave on a journey; Lawrence had no choice but to support him.
"But I also think that maybe I should have had him wait until spring, honestly."
"Hmm. Om, om...gulp. Well, that Col is oddly diligent. If he let that chance get away from him, he would likely still be dragging his feet for who knows how long. I feel 'twas not wrong of you to send him off like that."
"That makes me feel better. I don't want to get in the way of a kid with his whole future ahead of him."


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

Input:
"And about the mountain last night, 'tis well. I rid the dangerous areas of snow."
"I see. Thanks for that."
Recently, it had been snowing nonstop, and the sun had been stronger with the approaching spring, so there was a risk of avalanches.
Lately, people were carrying more and more goods down the mountain paths. So, the past few days, Holo would return to her wolf form at night and check the worrisome areas.
There was nothing Lawrence could do about it, and it pained him to leave it to Holo. What little comfort he did have was that Holo being Holo, she seemed to have a good time running around the mountains as a wolf. And she seemed to enjoy returning home in the early hours of the morning and throwing her chilled body into the baths while no one was around.
"It's going to be pretty busy tonight until the customers go home, so I appreciate it."
"I do not mind. Smiles when they come and smiles when they go is our bathhouse's selling point."
Running a bathhouse was different from doing everything alone as a merchant. There were times when it was troublesome, but having someone working with him by his side took that trouble and made it his happiness. Lawrence replied to his wife with a pleased expression and a nod, and Holo beamed back a smile like a young girl.
As they went down to the first floor, Holo restlessly pulled the thin robe over her head. Sometimes she felt it was fine to leave it down since their customers were drunk all the time, but she could not let anyone get a good look at her ears. The only ones who knew about her identity in Nyohhira were the ones who worked at this bathhouse.
Entering the dining hall, Hanna brought Holo food, as though she had been listening for their footsteps. There was not too much, but the beans-to-meat ratio leaned much more in favor of meat this time, compared to Lawrence's meal. He smiled wryly. While aware that she was still young, seeing Holo eat this much meat right after waking had him worrying.
He understood and was prepared for the huge difference in life spans between himself and Holo, the avatar of the wolf-who-lived-in-wheat. But slowly, he experienced more and more moments that underscored the reality.
Understanding it with his head was different from seeing it happen in daily life.
Every time he realized it again, he thought about how he wanted to appreciate each and every day.
"Oh."
"Hmm?"
Lawrence gazed at the tomboyish Holo, who was deliciously gulping down meat before speaking slowly.
"'Tis you that must deal with all the trouble. You've been without rest since you lost the other helpers."
"Yeah, well, that's all right. It should be busy for only a bit more, and really I've been too easy on Col. He said he wanted to travel, but I couldn't really stop him."
Over ten years ago, when he met Holo and traveled here and there, getting into all sorts of adventures, they met a boy—Col. At the time, he was a wandering student trying to learn theology and was even younger than how young Holo had already looked.
And now he was a young man the same age as Lawrence was then, and the thought made the older man dread the passage of time.
At the same time, despite all the ups and downs, he felt guilty having Col work in the bathhouse forever when it had always been his dream to become a clergyman.
So Col, after hearing a story from a guest one day, could no longer stand it and finally decided to ask permission to leave on a journey; Lawrence had no choice but to support him.
"But I also think that maybe I should have had him wait until spring, honestly."
"Hmm. Om, om...gulp. Well, that Col is oddly diligent. If he let that chance get away from him, he would likely still be dragging his feet for who knows how long. I feel 'twas not wrong of you to send him off like that."
"That makes me feel better. I don't want to get in the way of a kid with his whole future ahead of him."

Output:
"Indeed, but I never thought it would be an excuse to elope."
Clang! The tin cup fell, the cask tipped over, and the spilled wine spread slowly across the long table.
Lawrence desperately tried to cover his agitation, which had rushed out just like the wine, by reaching out to the cup and the cask, but it was not much use. Hanna heard the noise and came over with a cloth, while Holo just laughed and laughed.
"Heh-heh. You really are a fool! Why not just accept it?"
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
Lawrence spoke in a stiff wooden tone while lending Hanna a hand. Hanna's glance contained a bit of a smile. After they wiped up the wine, Lawrence sat in his chair and Holo waved a knife tip in his direction.
"Col's a good male, no? You don't think 'twould be good for him to take over after you?"
"Ghrh..."
Holo's logic was dead-on, and that was definitely how he felt. But understanding it in his mind and actually confronting it head-on were two different things. Lawrence was acutely aware of this every day.
And if this conversation pivoted toward the topic of their daughter, he likely would not be able to keep it together.
Indeed, the reason managing the bathhouse had become so dizzyingly involved lately was not just because they were lucky their customers valued them greatly. It was also because Lawrence was filling in for the two young helpers after they left. One of those helpers was the aforementioned Col. And the other who made a completely unexpected departure was Lawrence and Holo's only daughter, Myuri.
Just as Col was leaving on his journey, of all things their daughter also took off from the bathhouse and followed right after.
Of course, there were several answers to the question Why?, but it was clear that one particular matter sat prominently in the middle of all this. This village was small, and the bathhouse even smaller. Who liked whom was quite obvious.
"It's too early for her to get married."
Though he thought he had tried to make a reasonable objection, both Holo and Hanna began to laugh. It was the laughter shared between two women who were confirming with each other that men, no matter how old, were always foolish.
"Then when is it not too early?"
"Um...mmnm..."
"Sir, don't stress yourself out."
Agonizing over Holo's remark and then Hanna's words, which could be taken as either comforting or teasing, Lawrence finally plugged his ears. Reason was not going to help him much. He knew. He knew! Since the very day his daughter was born, he was prepared for this moment.
"Heh-heh. Then what a relief she chose to elope with Col."
"It is not an elopement!"
But it seemed that no matter what, Lawrence would object. Holo and Hanna cackled in delight together. He wished he could drink with other bathhouse owners.
"Besides, I do not see what you could gain from not sharing what you want to say with your beloved. Rather, for someone who is my daughter, she is a taking her time a stretch too long."
It seemed as though Holo was jealous in her own way.
All things considered, Lawrence thought that Holo had no right to speak about people holding back their feelings, recalling memories of their journey from over ten years ago. Of course, if he actually said such a thing, he knew what would happen, so he stayed his tongue.
"Do you think it's due to the influence from the many churchmen?"
"The Church?"
Lawrence didn't seem to follow, and Holo twirled the tip of her knife as though hauling in a string from her head.
"Aye. They have the odd habit in never saying what matters until they die."
"Oh, you mean their final confessions."
"Aye, that."
Praying for reconciliation with God at death's door, people confessed various things to a priest, mostly sins or final requests. Some of these people were stubborn old men who would finally share their hidden thoughts with their family or divulge immoral love—anything imaginable could come out in these moments, so Holo was not exactly mistaken.


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

Input:
"Indeed, but I never thought it would be an excuse to elope."
Clang! The tin cup fell, the cask tipped over, and the spilled wine spread slowly across the long table.
Lawrence desperately tried to cover his agitation, which had rushed out just like the wine, by reaching out to the cup and the cask, but it was not much use. Hanna heard the noise and came over with a cloth, while Holo just laughed and laughed.
"Heh-heh. You really are a fool! Why not just accept it?"
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
Lawrence spoke in a stiff wooden tone while lending Hanna a hand. Hanna's glance contained a bit of a smile. After they wiped up the wine, Lawrence sat in his chair and Holo waved a knife tip in his direction.
"Col's a good male, no? You don't think 'twould be good for him to take over after you?"
"Ghrh..."
Holo's logic was dead-on, and that was definitely how he felt. But understanding it in his mind and actually confronting it head-on were two different things. Lawrence was acutely aware of this every day.
And if this conversation pivoted toward the topic of their daughter, he likely would not be able to keep it together.
Indeed, the reason managing the bathhouse had become so dizzyingly involved lately was not just because they were lucky their customers valued them greatly. It was also because Lawrence was filling in for the two young helpers after they left. One of those helpers was the aforementioned Col. And the other who made a completely unexpected departure was Lawrence and Holo's only daughter, Myuri.
Just as Col was leaving on his journey, of all things their daughter also took off from the bathhouse and followed right after.
Of course, there were several answers to the question Why?, but it was clear that one particular matter sat prominently in the middle of all this. This village was small, and the bathhouse even smaller. Who liked whom was quite obvious.
"It's too early for her to get married."
Though he thought he had tried to make a reasonable objection, both Holo and Hanna began to laugh. It was the laughter shared between two women who were confirming with each other that men, no matter how old, were always foolish.
"Then when is it not too early?"
"Um...mmnm..."
"Sir, don't stress yourself out."
Agonizing over Holo's remark and then Hanna's words, which could be taken as either comforting or teasing, Lawrence finally plugged his ears. Reason was not going to help him much. He knew. He knew! Since the very day his daughter was born, he was prepared for this moment.
"Heh-heh. Then what a relief she chose to elope with Col."
"It is not an elopement!"
But it seemed that no matter what, Lawrence would object. Holo and Hanna cackled in delight together. He wished he could drink with other bathhouse owners.
"Besides, I do not see what you could gain from not sharing what you want to say with your beloved. Rather, for someone who is my daughter, she is a taking her time a stretch too long."
It seemed as though Holo was jealous in her own way.
All things considered, Lawrence thought that Holo had no right to speak about people holding back their feelings, recalling memories of their journey from over ten years ago. Of course, if he actually said such a thing, he knew what would happen, so he stayed his tongue.
"Do you think it's due to the influence from the many churchmen?"
"The Church?"
Lawrence didn't seem to follow, and Holo twirled the tip of her knife as though hauling in a string from her head.
"Aye. They have the odd habit in never saying what matters until they die."
"Oh, you mean their final confessions."
"Aye, that."
Praying for reconciliation with God at death's door, people confessed various things to a priest, mostly sins or final requests. Some of these people were stubborn old men who would finally share their hidden thoughts with their family or divulge immoral love—anything imaginable could come out in these moments, so Holo was not exactly mistaken.

Output:
Lawrence agreed, especially now that he had reached a certain age, and trembled at how fast time flew. Younglings should live fast and wild.
However, just as Lawrence was thinking about how it was much too early for Myuri to fall in love and marry, Holo suddenly spoke.
"Besides, I want to hurry and see the faces of my grandchildren."
"What! Wha...!"
Lawrence was left speechless, unable to breath in or out. True, they would definitely be cute, but Myuri was still a child. She may have been at the age where it was socially acceptable for her to wed, but she was much too young. There was no mistaking that. There was acceptable by society's standards, and then there was acceptable by the family's standards.
As Lawrence tried to push away the fast-approaching reality, Holo leisurely drank her wine. Her composure came from either the difference between his and her age or the difference between a mother and a father.
It was the same when Col said he was going to leave and began his preparations before finally leaving. It was then they found out their daughter, who had always said she wanted to see the wide world outside the mountain village, had somehow snuck into Col's luggage.
Traveling came with danger, and thinking on his only daughter's safety, Lawrence was too impatient to write a letter, but Holo had admonished him when he tried to go after her on a sled.
"It will be fine," she had laughed.
There was a saying that went, "If you love your children, send them out into the world." Though he agreed in principle when watching how Holo acted, he could not accept it all.
Holo ignored Lawrence, who was groaning beside her, and she spoke thoughtfully with eyes closed, as though soaking in the baths.
"'Tis good enough, at any rate, if she is enjoying her first journey."
Though she seemed irresponsible, it was not as though she had no worries. Lawrence glared at Holo, who he felt tended to keep all the best parts of parenthood to herself.
Holo drew him close to her, smiling dryly.
"Everything fades with time. But I shall be by your side forever."
Holo, shorter than Lawrence, gazed up at him with her beautifully shaped eyes.
"Is there anything wrong with that?"
When she said that, there was no way he could respond. To Holo, who would live for hundreds of years, everything happening before her now was just one scene of a brief journey. It was too much for her, and once she had tried to end things with Lawrence—thinking if she must see him off, it may as well be when goodbyes would not cut so deep. But she had chosen the fleeting happiness over the pain of parting.
Lawrence relaxed his shoulders, giving in to her.
"Don't be silly."
"Heh-heh."
She gave a small laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. He lay his hand atop Holo the Wisewolf, her head round and small enough that his fingers fit snugly around it.
Surely this was the greatest extent of happiness that he could hold onto with his own hands.
And that was more than enough.
"Would you like some more wine?" Lawrence asked, and Holo answered, "Only if you have some, too."
Lawrence could only laugh. "I can't win against you."
Lightly, he kissed the top of her head and handed the empty cask to an astonished Hanna.
That night happened to be the date of the monthly town meeting. In the wavering moonlight, Lawrence carried food and drink along the road, shivering. When he first came to this village, he could not shake the eerie feeling nighttime gave him on this remote mountain, but now he was completely used to it.
And during this season when there were many visitors, inviting fires burned late into the night throughout the entire village, while the sounds of laughter and music drifted all over. The scene had an ethereal, fantastical air about it, and sometimes he would occasionally come out with Holo to gaze upon it.