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

Input:
Everything except for Holo's reaction, that is.
"I'm so glad you're all right," was all Lawrence could manage. He could say no more to Holo, who sat opposite him, unfolding a strip of cloth that had been around her neck in an attempt to cover her ears.
She only replied after finishing a few adjustments to the fit of her makeshift hood. "It's good that I'm all right, is it?"
Lawrence wanted to say yes, but the words caught in his throat. Holo was glaring at him as if she were about to bite his head off.
Perhaps she wasn't well.
"Say my name, then!"
If she could shout like that, she wasn't in the condition Lawrence feared. Still, her vehemence made her seem twice her normal size, and he flinched at it.
"Uh...Holo?"
"Holo the Wisewolf!"
It sounded almost like a threatening growl, but Lawrence had no idea what she was angry about. If she wanted an apology, he was ready to apologize a hundred times over. She'd been a decoy for him, after all.
Or had something happened to her that she couldn't say?
"I can remember every single person that's ever shamed me in my life. And now I must add another name to that list. Yours!"
Something had happened to her. Still, her anger seemed different from the manner of girls he'd seen in villages that had been taken by thugs or brigands. And if he said something foolish, it would only be throwing oil on the fire of her rage.
Thus the silence grew longer; and perhaps the silence itself began to irk her because she rose from her seat and closed in on Lawrence.
Her white, clenched fists trembled.
There was nowhere for Lawrence to run. Holo stood directly in front of him.
Their heads were at the same height, which lent Holo's level gaze an incredibly penetrating quality. She opened her small fists and grabbed the chest of Lawrence's shirt. Her strength matched her appearance—Lawrence hadn't imagined her grip would be so weak.
Again he noticed how long her eyelashes were.
"You told me, didn't you—you told me you'd come for me."
Lawrence nodded.
"And I...I utterly believed that you would come...grrh...just thinking about it is infuriating!"
Just then, Lawrence came to a sharp realization, as if waking from a dream.
"You're a man, aren't you? You should've been in the front, fighting tooth and nail! But you were in that hole in the ground—you let me make a fool of myself—"
"But you're unhurt, right?" asked Lawrence, interrupting her. Holo sneered at him, displeased.
She hesitated for some time before finally nodding, as if forced to drink something very unpleasant.
Holo had probably been blindfolded. She may have mistaken whoever came to her aid for Lawrence and said something meant for him alone. That was probably why she felt—and blamed him for—such needless shame.
The realization made Lawrence happy. He knew that if he'd been the one to rescue her, she would have shown the expression he longed to see.
Slowly putting his arms around Holo, who was still gripping his shirt, he drew her closer. Holo resisted a bit, irritated, but soon relented. The once angry-looking ears that were clearly visible underneath her makeshift hood now drooped. A mildly sulky expression replaced her original anger.
Though he might travel the world and amass a great fortune, the one thing Lawrence could never have was right here.
"I'm glad you're all right," he said.
The eyes that had flashed in anger only a moment earlier threatened to close. Holo nodded, her lips slightly pouting.
"So long as you carry that wheat with you, I'll not die." Holo poked his breast pocket without moving his arms away. "For a girl, there is a kind of suffering no easier than death."
Lawrence took Holo's hand, and Holo drew near to him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He felt her weight intensely, heavier than a burlap sack full of wheat.
"Heh. I'm so lovely that even human males fall for me. Not that a one of them is fit to be my mate," said Holo mischievously.

Output:
"But there was an exception," she added, her delight vanishing. This was a new anger, a quiet anger, Lawrence thought.
"Who do you think was there among those who captured me?"
Her expression was the height of disgust. She bared her fangs slightly in rage, and Lawrence unconsciously let go of her hand.
"Who was there?" he asked.
Who was it who could so enrage Holo? Perhaps someone from her past.
Holo wrinkled her nose as Lawrence considered. She spoke.
"It was Yarei. You remember him, no doubt."
"That—"
Can't be, he was going to say—but Lawrence never got that far because something else suddenly occurred to him.
"That's it! The figure backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott!"
Holo had been ready to vent her spleen at Lawrence, but now her eyes widened in surprise at his outburst.
"As someone with huge tracts of wheat, he can request payment in whatever coin he wants! And if he could arrange favorable duties for his wheat, it would be like a gift from heaven to the Medio Company, the count, or even the villagers! Of course! And that explains why there was someone there who knew you were a wolf!"
Holo looked at Lawrence blankly, but Lawrence didn't notice her as he leapt up to the window that faced the carriage drivers. He opened the small window, and one of them leaned down to listen.
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"I did indeed."
"The one backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott. The count and the merchants that deal with his wheat are the reason silver is being collected. Please inform Mr. Marheit."
"It shall be done," he said, then jumped immediately off the carriage and took off running.
Lawrence imagined that the horses carrying the negotiators bound for Trenni had already left, but if the negotiations were at all prolonged, they would be able to propose additional conditions. Knowing the source of the Medio Company's silver meant it might be possible for a company with the reputation and resources of Milone to snatch the deal right out from under them.
If he'd figured this out earlier, perhaps Holo's capture could have been avoided and this entire transaction could have gone much more smoothly.
It frustrated Lawrence to think about it, but there was nothing to do about it now. It was good they'd discovered the truth when they had.
"...I do not follow you."
Lawrence returned to his seat, arms folded as the possibilities raced through his head, when he heard Holo's complaint. That's when he realized he'd cut her off mid-sentence.
"Explaining it all could take some time. Let's just say that your information was the key to figuring everything out."
"Huh."
Lawrence knew that it would not take much effort on Holo's part to understand what was going on, but she didn't seem inclined to bother.
Holo simply nodded her head, uninterested, and closed her eyes.
She seemed irritated at the sudden change of subject.
Lawrence chided himself for finding her sulking as charming as he did.
It might have been a trap she'd set for him, after all, to demonstrate how irritated she was at the interruption.
"I'm sorry I interrupted you," said Lawrence by way of an honest apology.
She opened a single eye briefly to glance at him, then brushed off his apology with a small "It's nothing."
Undaunted, Lawrence continued speaking. Holo was either childish or cunning—one extreme or the other.
"Yarei should still be locked away in the storehouse for the harvest festival. If he's in the city, that means he's involved in the deal. He's acquainted with the merchants that buy wheat from the village, and the village leader trusts him to do the dealing. Also, the bulk of the wheat sales are conducted immediately after the festival," said Lawrence.
Her eyes closed, Holo seemed to consider this, finally opening both eyes at length. Her mood appeared to have brightened.
"He must have heard my name from that boy Zheren. That Yarei was wearing clothes far too fine for any village and thought rather highly of himself."


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

Input:
"But there was an exception," she added, her delight vanishing. This was a new anger, a quiet anger, Lawrence thought.
"Who do you think was there among those who captured me?"
Her expression was the height of disgust. She bared her fangs slightly in rage, and Lawrence unconsciously let go of her hand.
"Who was there?" he asked.
Who was it who could so enrage Holo? Perhaps someone from her past.
Holo wrinkled her nose as Lawrence considered. She spoke.
"It was Yarei. You remember him, no doubt."
"That—"
Can't be, he was going to say—but Lawrence never got that far because something else suddenly occurred to him.
"That's it! The figure backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott!"
Holo had been ready to vent her spleen at Lawrence, but now her eyes widened in surprise at his outburst.
"As someone with huge tracts of wheat, he can request payment in whatever coin he wants! And if he could arrange favorable duties for his wheat, it would be like a gift from heaven to the Medio Company, the count, or even the villagers! Of course! And that explains why there was someone there who knew you were a wolf!"
Holo looked at Lawrence blankly, but Lawrence didn't notice her as he leapt up to the window that faced the carriage drivers. He opened the small window, and one of them leaned down to listen.
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"I did indeed."
"The one backing the Medio Company is Count Ehrendott. The count and the merchants that deal with his wheat are the reason silver is being collected. Please inform Mr. Marheit."
"It shall be done," he said, then jumped immediately off the carriage and took off running.
Lawrence imagined that the horses carrying the negotiators bound for Trenni had already left, but if the negotiations were at all prolonged, they would be able to propose additional conditions. Knowing the source of the Medio Company's silver meant it might be possible for a company with the reputation and resources of Milone to snatch the deal right out from under them.
If he'd figured this out earlier, perhaps Holo's capture could have been avoided and this entire transaction could have gone much more smoothly.
It frustrated Lawrence to think about it, but there was nothing to do about it now. It was good they'd discovered the truth when they had.
"...I do not follow you."
Lawrence returned to his seat, arms folded as the possibilities raced through his head, when he heard Holo's complaint. That's when he realized he'd cut her off mid-sentence.
"Explaining it all could take some time. Let's just say that your information was the key to figuring everything out."
"Huh."
Lawrence knew that it would not take much effort on Holo's part to understand what was going on, but she didn't seem inclined to bother.
Holo simply nodded her head, uninterested, and closed her eyes.
She seemed irritated at the sudden change of subject.
Lawrence chided himself for finding her sulking as charming as he did.
It might have been a trap she'd set for him, after all, to demonstrate how irritated she was at the interruption.
"I'm sorry I interrupted you," said Lawrence by way of an honest apology.
She opened a single eye briefly to glance at him, then brushed off his apology with a small "It's nothing."
Undaunted, Lawrence continued speaking. Holo was either childish or cunning—one extreme or the other.
"Yarei should still be locked away in the storehouse for the harvest festival. If he's in the city, that means he's involved in the deal. He's acquainted with the merchants that buy wheat from the village, and the village leader trusts him to do the dealing. Also, the bulk of the wheat sales are conducted immediately after the festival," said Lawrence.
Her eyes closed, Holo seemed to consider this, finally opening both eyes at length. Her mood appeared to have brightened.
"He must have heard my name from that boy Zheren. That Yarei was wearing clothes far too fine for any village and thought rather highly of himself."

Output:
"Just a bit," said Holo. She rid herself of the last of her anger with a sigh. Perhaps it was the recollection of her conversation with Yarei that had angered her so.
Lawrence wondered what he could have possibly said to her. Holo had no love for the villagers, that was true enough, but she had decided to leave. He didn't think her grudge went any further than that.
As Lawrence pondered these things, Holo spoke.
"I don't know how many years I lived there. Maybe as many as there are hairs on my tail."
Holo's tail swished beneath her coat.
"I am Holo the Wisewolf. In order to provide the greatest harvest, there were years I had to let the land rest, so there were seasons of meager harvest, too. Still, the fields I lent my aid should've been more productive than others over time."
This was the second time she'd explained this, but Lawrence nodded for her to continue.
"The villagers did treat me as the god of the harvest—but not out of respect. It was akin to a desire to control me. Do they not chase after the person who cuts the last sheaf of wheat, after all? Do they not bind him with rope?"
"I've heard they lock the harvester away in the storehouse for a week with treats to eat and all the tools they'll use in the following year."
"The pork and duck were tasty, 'tis true."
It was an amusing reflection. The tales were apparently true—tales of people locked up for a week only to be relased with no recollection of having eaten all the food. And the perpetrator sat right in front of him.
The vague fear that accompanied these stories now possessed a concrete form: the image of Holo in her wolf form, devouring duck and pork.
"Still," said Holo seriously as she set out to explain the reason for her anger. Lawrence composed himself.
"What do you think Yarei said to me?" Holo bit her lip, momentarily at a loss for words. She rubbed the corner of her eye with her finger and continued. "He said he heard my name from Zheren, and it made him wonder. I...it is pathetic, but I was so happy to hear that..."
Holo's head hung low, and tears overflowed from her eyes.
"Then he told me that the days when they had to worry about my mood were over. That they need no longer fear my fickle nature. That since the Church was already after me, they should just hand me over and be done with the old ways for good!"
Lawrence knew about Count Ehrendott's exchanges with natural philosophers and how he'd introduced new agricultural techniques to boost crop yield.
Even the most devout prayer must eventually show results, or the spirit or god responsible will be discarded, and people will begin to find the idea of depending on their own efforts much more appealing. If new farming methods brought prosperity where prayer failed, it was not surprising that the people would start to believe that the god or spirit to whom they prayed was capricious, unreliable.
Lawrence himself sometimes ascribed the vicissitudes of fortune to some inscrutable god.
But the girl before him was not what came to mind.
She had said her reason for staying in the village was that she got along with the villagers, that her friend from long ago had asked her to see to the harvest. She had always meant for the fields to prosper. But after she oversaw the land for centuries, people began denying her existence, and now to hear that they wished to be rid of her—how must that feel?
Tears fell freely from Holo's eyes. Her face showed a mixture of frustration and sorrow.
She'd said she hated being alone. When a god forced people to worship it, perhaps it was only out of loneliness.
If Holo's predicament elicited such wild-eyed notions in Lawrence, it was hardly surprising it also made him want to wipe her tears away.
"It doesn't really matter, in the end. I want to return to the northland, so I must leave one way or another. If they have no love for me, I'll simply kick the dust from my hind legs and leave. 'Twill be a cleaner break that way. Still...I can't just leave it like this."


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

Input:
"Just a bit," said Holo. She rid herself of the last of her anger with a sigh. Perhaps it was the recollection of her conversation with Yarei that had angered her so.
Lawrence wondered what he could have possibly said to her. Holo had no love for the villagers, that was true enough, but she had decided to leave. He didn't think her grudge went any further than that.
As Lawrence pondered these things, Holo spoke.
"I don't know how many years I lived there. Maybe as many as there are hairs on my tail."
Holo's tail swished beneath her coat.
"I am Holo the Wisewolf. In order to provide the greatest harvest, there were years I had to let the land rest, so there were seasons of meager harvest, too. Still, the fields I lent my aid should've been more productive than others over time."
This was the second time she'd explained this, but Lawrence nodded for her to continue.
"The villagers did treat me as the god of the harvest—but not out of respect. It was akin to a desire to control me. Do they not chase after the person who cuts the last sheaf of wheat, after all? Do they not bind him with rope?"
"I've heard they lock the harvester away in the storehouse for a week with treats to eat and all the tools they'll use in the following year."
"The pork and duck were tasty, 'tis true."
It was an amusing reflection. The tales were apparently true—tales of people locked up for a week only to be relased with no recollection of having eaten all the food. And the perpetrator sat right in front of him.
The vague fear that accompanied these stories now possessed a concrete form: the image of Holo in her wolf form, devouring duck and pork.
"Still," said Holo seriously as she set out to explain the reason for her anger. Lawrence composed himself.
"What do you think Yarei said to me?" Holo bit her lip, momentarily at a loss for words. She rubbed the corner of her eye with her finger and continued. "He said he heard my name from Zheren, and it made him wonder. I...it is pathetic, but I was so happy to hear that..."
Holo's head hung low, and tears overflowed from her eyes.
"Then he told me that the days when they had to worry about my mood were over. That they need no longer fear my fickle nature. That since the Church was already after me, they should just hand me over and be done with the old ways for good!"
Lawrence knew about Count Ehrendott's exchanges with natural philosophers and how he'd introduced new agricultural techniques to boost crop yield.
Even the most devout prayer must eventually show results, or the spirit or god responsible will be discarded, and people will begin to find the idea of depending on their own efforts much more appealing. If new farming methods brought prosperity where prayer failed, it was not surprising that the people would start to believe that the god or spirit to whom they prayed was capricious, unreliable.
Lawrence himself sometimes ascribed the vicissitudes of fortune to some inscrutable god.
But the girl before him was not what came to mind.
She had said her reason for staying in the village was that she got along with the villagers, that her friend from long ago had asked her to see to the harvest. She had always meant for the fields to prosper. But after she oversaw the land for centuries, people began denying her existence, and now to hear that they wished to be rid of her—how must that feel?
Tears fell freely from Holo's eyes. Her face showed a mixture of frustration and sorrow.
She'd said she hated being alone. When a god forced people to worship it, perhaps it was only out of loneliness.
If Holo's predicament elicited such wild-eyed notions in Lawrence, it was hardly surprising it also made him want to wipe her tears away.
"It doesn't really matter, in the end. I want to return to the northland, so I must leave one way or another. If they have no love for me, I'll simply kick the dust from my hind legs and leave. 'Twill be a cleaner break that way. Still...I can't just leave it like this."

Output:
"I—no, we—are merchants. As long as we profit, we triumph. We laugh when money comes in, and cry only in bankruptcy. And we will laugh," he said.
Holo glanced up momentarily, then down again, tears falling from her eyes once more. She nodded, then looked back up. Lawrence wiped her tears away a second time, and Holo took a deep breath. She wiped the lingering tears from the corners of her eyes almost violently.
For several moments afterward, her long, damp eyelashes sparkled.
Holo sighed. "...I feel better."
She smudged away the final remnants of tears with one hand and, looking sheepish over her outburst, lightly punched Lawrence in the chest with a small fist.
"It's been centuries since I've had a proper conversation. My emotions are far too fragile. I've cried before you twice now, but I would have done it even if you had not been here. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Lawrence raised his hands and shrugged. "You're telling me not to misunderstand."
"Mm-hm."
Holo happily rubbed her balled-up fist around on Lawrence's chest.
She was being almost unbearably dear just then, and Lawrence couldn't help but tease her a bit.
"I only brought you along to help me make money anyway. Until the Milone Company concludes its negotiations, our job is to escape. Having someone crying and carrying on in the middle of that is just a burden. So regardless of who was crying in front of me, I'd—"
Lawrence could proceed no further with his jape.
Holo looked at him as if stricken.
"...That's not fair," he grumbled.
"Mm-hm. Female privilege."
Lawrence poked her head lightly for being so shameless.
The window by the driver's seat opened, as if the driver had been waiting for the opportune moment. He smiled reluctantly.
"We have arrived. Are you quite finished with your conversation?"
"We surely are," said Lawrence with affected enthusiasm as he removed the carriage floorboards. Beside him, Holo snickered madly.
"It's true, then, that people who bring talk of profit are rather odd," said the driver.
"What, you mean my ears?" said Holo mischievously.
The driver laughed—she'd gotten the better of him. "It makes me want to return to my traveling merchant days, looking at you two."
"I wouldn't if I were you," said Lawrence, shoving the stone and confirming the tunnel was the right one. He then climbed back into the carriage to let Holo go first. "You might end up running into someone like her."
"Ah, but a wagon bench is too wide for just one. I'd wish to be so lucky!"
Lawrence chuckled; nearly any merchant would feel the same way.
Without another word, he descended into the tunnel. Had he continued, he was sure he'd embarrass himself. And in any case, Holo awaited him.
"Surely I am the unfortunate one, to be picked up by the likes of you!" said Holo there in the darkness once the driver replaced the stone and drove away with a quiet rumble.
Lawrence thought about how to turn the tables while the sound of a horse's neigh echoed faintly above them, but ultimately decided that no matter what he said, Holo would win in the end. He gave in.
"You're too clever by half."
"'Tis what makes me so charming," said Holo, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. What could he say to that?
No, it's because I'm always searching for a retort that I fall into her trap, he thought to himself.
He decided to take the most unexpected route.
Lawrence coughed quietly.
Then he looked away. "Well...yes, you're quite charming," he said in the shiest, most bashful tone he could manage.
There was no way she would anticipate such an answer, he was certain.
He forced himself not to laugh in the darkness. As he expected, she was silent.
Now, for the finishing blow, he thought.
As he turned to face her, the softest sensation filled his hand.
His mind went blank at the realization that it was Holo's small, impossibly soft hand.
"...I'm so happy."


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

Input:
"I—no, we—are merchants. As long as we profit, we triumph. We laugh when money comes in, and cry only in bankruptcy. And we will laugh," he said.
Holo glanced up momentarily, then down again, tears falling from her eyes once more. She nodded, then looked back up. Lawrence wiped her tears away a second time, and Holo took a deep breath. She wiped the lingering tears from the corners of her eyes almost violently.
For several moments afterward, her long, damp eyelashes sparkled.
Holo sighed. "...I feel better."
She smudged away the final remnants of tears with one hand and, looking sheepish over her outburst, lightly punched Lawrence in the chest with a small fist.
"It's been centuries since I've had a proper conversation. My emotions are far too fragile. I've cried before you twice now, but I would have done it even if you had not been here. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Lawrence raised his hands and shrugged. "You're telling me not to misunderstand."
"Mm-hm."
Holo happily rubbed her balled-up fist around on Lawrence's chest.
She was being almost unbearably dear just then, and Lawrence couldn't help but tease her a bit.
"I only brought you along to help me make money anyway. Until the Milone Company concludes its negotiations, our job is to escape. Having someone crying and carrying on in the middle of that is just a burden. So regardless of who was crying in front of me, I'd—"
Lawrence could proceed no further with his jape.
Holo looked at him as if stricken.
"...That's not fair," he grumbled.
"Mm-hm. Female privilege."
Lawrence poked her head lightly for being so shameless.
The window by the driver's seat opened, as if the driver had been waiting for the opportune moment. He smiled reluctantly.
"We have arrived. Are you quite finished with your conversation?"
"We surely are," said Lawrence with affected enthusiasm as he removed the carriage floorboards. Beside him, Holo snickered madly.
"It's true, then, that people who bring talk of profit are rather odd," said the driver.
"What, you mean my ears?" said Holo mischievously.
The driver laughed—she'd gotten the better of him. "It makes me want to return to my traveling merchant days, looking at you two."
"I wouldn't if I were you," said Lawrence, shoving the stone and confirming the tunnel was the right one. He then climbed back into the carriage to let Holo go first. "You might end up running into someone like her."
"Ah, but a wagon bench is too wide for just one. I'd wish to be so lucky!"
Lawrence chuckled; nearly any merchant would feel the same way.
Without another word, he descended into the tunnel. Had he continued, he was sure he'd embarrass himself. And in any case, Holo awaited him.
"Surely I am the unfortunate one, to be picked up by the likes of you!" said Holo there in the darkness once the driver replaced the stone and drove away with a quiet rumble.
Lawrence thought about how to turn the tables while the sound of a horse's neigh echoed faintly above them, but ultimately decided that no matter what he said, Holo would win in the end. He gave in.
"You're too clever by half."
"'Tis what makes me so charming," said Holo, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. What could he say to that?
No, it's because I'm always searching for a retort that I fall into her trap, he thought to himself.
He decided to take the most unexpected route.
Lawrence coughed quietly.
Then he looked away. "Well...yes, you're quite charming," he said in the shiest, most bashful tone he could manage.
There was no way she would anticipate such an answer, he was certain.
He forced himself not to laugh in the darkness. As he expected, she was silent.
Now, for the finishing blow, he thought.
As he turned to face her, the softest sensation filled his hand.
His mind went blank at the realization that it was Holo's small, impossibly soft hand.
"...I'm so happy."

Output:
So it was Holo who dealt the finishing blow.
"You really are an adorable boy," she said, amused at her own joke—which was even more irritating. Lawrence wasn't angry with her for saying so, but rather himself for giving her the chance.
And yet he didn't think of letting her hand go, which felt somehow pathetic—and Holo's holding his hand made him feel unreasonably pleased.
"Too clever by half," he murmured to himself.
It was quiet in the tunnel.
Then it filled with the echoes of Holo's giggling.
***
Holo stopped short, surely not because of the rat that scampered away with a squeak at her feet.
There in the inky darkness, Lawrence turned to Holo. He wouldn't lose her, as even now he held her hand.
"What is it?"
"Do you not feel a stirring in the air?"
Lawrence wasn't sure where exactly in the city they were, but the scent of clean water in the air suggested that it was somewhere near the marketplace. He could at least tell that they were well away from the river that flowed alongside the city.
It was easy to imagine the countless people and horse-drawn carts passing above them. A bit of movement in the air was hardly surprising.
"Isn't it coming from above?" he asked.
"No..." said Holo. He could tell she was glancing this way and that. But they were in a tunnel—there were only two directions to go.
"If I had whiskers I would be able to tell..."
"Are you sure it's not your imagination?"
"No...there's a sound. I can hear it. Water? The sound of splashes—"
Lawrence's eyes widened at his instinctive thought—they were being pursued.
"It's from ahead. This won't do. We must retreat."
Before Holo could finish, Lawrence had turned on his heel and began running. Holo scrambled to follow him.
"There are no forks in this path, yes?"
"The path we were taking was direct. Going the other way, there's one branch. Take that, and it becomes a complicated labyrinth."
"I don't know that even I could keep from getting lost here...whoops!" said Holo as she stopped in her tracks again. Their hands came apart at the sudden stop, and Lawrence stumbled. As he hurried to turn around, it seemed like Holo was facing back the way they'd came.
"You, cover your ears."
"What? Why?"
"Even if we run, they'll catch us. They've loosed the hounds on us."
If they were being pursued down a straight path by well-trained hounds, it was hopeless. Holo could see quite well in the dark, but the dogs had their noses and ears. They had no weapons with which to fend the beasts off save the silver dagger Lawrence always carried.
They did have something rather houndlike, though—Holo the Wisewolf.
"Heh. So foolish-sounding, that baying," said Holo. Lawrence could now faintly hear the hound's cries.
It may have only been the overlapping echoes, but from the sound, Lawrence guessed there were at least two animals.
What was Holo planning?
"I'm not certain what I'll do if they're too stupid to understand this. Anyway, cover your ears!"
Lawrence did as he was told and plugged his ears. He'd figured it out—Holo was going to howl.
Holo took a long, deep breath. It lasted so long Lawrence began to wonder where all that air was going. There was a brief pause, and then she unleashed an earthshaking howl.
"Awooooooooooo!"
The force of the great noise was enough to send shivers down his hands and set the skin on his face trembling. It seemed as though the tunnel was about to collapse.
The wolf-howl was enough to strike fear into the heart of the strongest man. Lawrence forgot it was Holo howling and curled up into a ball.
The merchant remembered being chased across the plains by packs of wolves. They possessed overwhelming numbers, knowledge of the terrain, and physical strength no human could hope to match. They would bring all three to bear and attack—and the howl was the signal. That was why some villages, when stricken with plague, would imitate a wolf's howl to drive away the disease.


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

Input:
So it was Holo who dealt the finishing blow.
"You really are an adorable boy," she said, amused at her own joke—which was even more irritating. Lawrence wasn't angry with her for saying so, but rather himself for giving her the chance.
And yet he didn't think of letting her hand go, which felt somehow pathetic—and Holo's holding his hand made him feel unreasonably pleased.
"Too clever by half," he murmured to himself.
It was quiet in the tunnel.
Then it filled with the echoes of Holo's giggling.
***
Holo stopped short, surely not because of the rat that scampered away with a squeak at her feet.
There in the inky darkness, Lawrence turned to Holo. He wouldn't lose her, as even now he held her hand.
"What is it?"
"Do you not feel a stirring in the air?"
Lawrence wasn't sure where exactly in the city they were, but the scent of clean water in the air suggested that it was somewhere near the marketplace. He could at least tell that they were well away from the river that flowed alongside the city.
It was easy to imagine the countless people and horse-drawn carts passing above them. A bit of movement in the air was hardly surprising.
"Isn't it coming from above?" he asked.
"No..." said Holo. He could tell she was glancing this way and that. But they were in a tunnel—there were only two directions to go.
"If I had whiskers I would be able to tell..."
"Are you sure it's not your imagination?"
"No...there's a sound. I can hear it. Water? The sound of splashes—"
Lawrence's eyes widened at his instinctive thought—they were being pursued.
"It's from ahead. This won't do. We must retreat."
Before Holo could finish, Lawrence had turned on his heel and began running. Holo scrambled to follow him.
"There are no forks in this path, yes?"
"The path we were taking was direct. Going the other way, there's one branch. Take that, and it becomes a complicated labyrinth."
"I don't know that even I could keep from getting lost here...whoops!" said Holo as she stopped in her tracks again. Their hands came apart at the sudden stop, and Lawrence stumbled. As he hurried to turn around, it seemed like Holo was facing back the way they'd came.
"You, cover your ears."
"What? Why?"
"Even if we run, they'll catch us. They've loosed the hounds on us."
If they were being pursued down a straight path by well-trained hounds, it was hopeless. Holo could see quite well in the dark, but the dogs had their noses and ears. They had no weapons with which to fend the beasts off save the silver dagger Lawrence always carried.
They did have something rather houndlike, though—Holo the Wisewolf.
"Heh. So foolish-sounding, that baying," said Holo. Lawrence could now faintly hear the hound's cries.
It may have only been the overlapping echoes, but from the sound, Lawrence guessed there were at least two animals.
What was Holo planning?
"I'm not certain what I'll do if they're too stupid to understand this. Anyway, cover your ears!"
Lawrence did as he was told and plugged his ears. He'd figured it out—Holo was going to howl.
Holo took a long, deep breath. It lasted so long Lawrence began to wonder where all that air was going. There was a brief pause, and then she unleashed an earthshaking howl.
"Awooooooooooo!"
The force of the great noise was enough to send shivers down his hands and set the skin on his face trembling. It seemed as though the tunnel was about to collapse.
The wolf-howl was enough to strike fear into the heart of the strongest man. Lawrence forgot it was Holo howling and curled up into a ball.
The merchant remembered being chased across the plains by packs of wolves. They possessed overwhelming numbers, knowledge of the terrain, and physical strength no human could hope to match. They would bring all three to bear and attack—and the howl was the signal. That was why some villages, when stricken with plague, would imitate a wolf's howl to drive away the disease.

Output:
"An apple...I want an apple...koff—"
"You can have as many as you want once we're free. What of the hounds?"
"They turned tail and ran."
"Then we should do likewise. They'll know where we are now."
"Do you know the way?"
"More or less."
Before starting to run, Lawrence held his hand out to Holo, who gripped it firmly.
Ensuring that they wouldn't be separated, Lawrence ran. It was about then that he heard the voices of their pursuers.
"Still, how did they find us?" Holo asked.
"I doubt they knew exactly where we were. They probably came underground after being unable to find us above and then happened to run into us."
"Ah."
"If they knew exactly where we were, they would've cornered us by now...."
"I see. You're quite right."
Directly ahead of them muffled voices could be distinguished, then a faint ray of light penetrated the dark tunnel. It was where they had first entered the passage.
Lawrence had never been so optimistic as to think that the Milone Company would come to their rescue.
He drew a sharp breath as the realization washed over him like a splash of cold water and quickened his pace.
Then a voice echoed down the passage.
"The Milone Company has betrayed you! There's no point in runnin'!"
As if to avoid the voices, they turned down the single branch, and from behind them came the same words. Lawrence ignored them and continued to run, but Holo was uneasy.
"Sounds like we've been sold out."
"And for a high price, no doubt. As long as you're here, the Milone Company will lose a branch, at the very least."
"...I see. That's a high price, indeed."
If they were truly betrayed, Marheit would've been forced to put the entire branch on the line. If he'd really done so, he must've been planning to keep the branch's money and escape by himself to some far-off land. But it seemed unlikely that the huge Milone Company would let that happen, nor did he take Marheit for the kind of man to run.
Which meant their pursuers were simply lying on the spot—but to someone unused to such tactics, like Holo, it could be effective.
Holo nodded her head to indicate understanding, although her grip on his hand grew faintly tighter.
"Right, we turn right here."
"Wait—"
Lawrence stopped immediately after rounding the corner.
At the end of the slightly winding tunnel a lantern swayed. "There they are!" cried a voice.
Lawrence immediately took Holo's hand again and ran back along the path they'd first taken. Their pursuers broke into a run as well, but their footfalls did not reach Lawrence's ears.
"Do you know—"
"—the way? I do, it's all right," said Lawrence impatiently, but not because he was out of breath. The paths were strangely complicated, and all he could remember from what the Milone employees had told him were the paths that connected the entrance and exit.
It wasn't a lie to say he knew the way, but it wasn't the truth, either.
If which way to turn left or right, and after how many intersections, then it was true. If not, it was a lie.
His head filled with strange illusions that threatened to blank everything out—the sound of a column of mice running through the forest—tripping over the rubble of a crumbled stone wall. Traveling merchants had to remember complicated figures about how much they owed and how much they were owed, so they tended to have confidence in their memory. But Lawrence's confidence lasted for only a moment after he asserted it.
The twisting tunnels were just too complicated.
"Another dead end?"
They'd gone a short distance after turning right at a T-junction before reaching the end. Lawrence kicked at the wall, breathing heavily. His actions made his worry clear, but Holo, her breathing also ragged, simply squeezed his hand tighter.
The Medio Company had apparently decided it was important to capture both of them—and they'd sent ample manpower to accomplish it.
Their footfalls and shouted voices echoed through the halls. They were so many that even Holo couldn't be sure of their number.


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

Input:
"An apple...I want an apple...koff—"
"You can have as many as you want once we're free. What of the hounds?"
"They turned tail and ran."
"Then we should do likewise. They'll know where we are now."
"Do you know the way?"
"More or less."
Before starting to run, Lawrence held his hand out to Holo, who gripped it firmly.
Ensuring that they wouldn't be separated, Lawrence ran. It was about then that he heard the voices of their pursuers.
"Still, how did they find us?" Holo asked.
"I doubt they knew exactly where we were. They probably came underground after being unable to find us above and then happened to run into us."
"Ah."
"If they knew exactly where we were, they would've cornered us by now...."
"I see. You're quite right."
Directly ahead of them muffled voices could be distinguished, then a faint ray of light penetrated the dark tunnel. It was where they had first entered the passage.
Lawrence had never been so optimistic as to think that the Milone Company would come to their rescue.
He drew a sharp breath as the realization washed over him like a splash of cold water and quickened his pace.
Then a voice echoed down the passage.
"The Milone Company has betrayed you! There's no point in runnin'!"
As if to avoid the voices, they turned down the single branch, and from behind them came the same words. Lawrence ignored them and continued to run, but Holo was uneasy.
"Sounds like we've been sold out."
"And for a high price, no doubt. As long as you're here, the Milone Company will lose a branch, at the very least."
"...I see. That's a high price, indeed."
If they were truly betrayed, Marheit would've been forced to put the entire branch on the line. If he'd really done so, he must've been planning to keep the branch's money and escape by himself to some far-off land. But it seemed unlikely that the huge Milone Company would let that happen, nor did he take Marheit for the kind of man to run.
Which meant their pursuers were simply lying on the spot—but to someone unused to such tactics, like Holo, it could be effective.
Holo nodded her head to indicate understanding, although her grip on his hand grew faintly tighter.
"Right, we turn right here."
"Wait—"
Lawrence stopped immediately after rounding the corner.
At the end of the slightly winding tunnel a lantern swayed. "There they are!" cried a voice.
Lawrence immediately took Holo's hand again and ran back along the path they'd first taken. Their pursuers broke into a run as well, but their footfalls did not reach Lawrence's ears.
"Do you know—"
"—the way? I do, it's all right," said Lawrence impatiently, but not because he was out of breath. The paths were strangely complicated, and all he could remember from what the Milone employees had told him were the paths that connected the entrance and exit.
It wasn't a lie to say he knew the way, but it wasn't the truth, either.
If which way to turn left or right, and after how many intersections, then it was true. If not, it was a lie.
His head filled with strange illusions that threatened to blank everything out—the sound of a column of mice running through the forest—tripping over the rubble of a crumbled stone wall. Traveling merchants had to remember complicated figures about how much they owed and how much they were owed, so they tended to have confidence in their memory. But Lawrence's confidence lasted for only a moment after he asserted it.
The twisting tunnels were just too complicated.
"Another dead end?"
They'd gone a short distance after turning right at a T-junction before reaching the end. Lawrence kicked at the wall, breathing heavily. His actions made his worry clear, but Holo, her breathing also ragged, simply squeezed his hand tighter.
The Medio Company had apparently decided it was important to capture both of them—and they'd sent ample manpower to accomplish it.
Their footfalls and shouted voices echoed through the halls. They were so many that even Holo couldn't be sure of their number.

Output:
"Damn. We'll have to head back. I don't remember anything else."
If they pushed ahead into unknown passages, there would be no going back.
Lawrence's memories were already quite shaky, but seeing Holo nod her assent, he didn't say so, not wanting her to feel any more uncertain.
"Can you still run?" he asked.
Lawrence was a hale and hardy traveling merchant, and despite his fatigue, he knew he could still run—but Holo could only nod her head in answer.
Perhaps her human body wasn't as capable as her wolf form.
"Just a bit," she said hastily as she gasped for air.
"Let's find a place to..." Lawrence began. He was going to say "rest," but he caught Holo's glance and the word never got out of his throat.
Her pupils glowed keenly in the darkness, every inch the forest predator scanning its surroundings.
Heartened to have someone like Holo as his companion, Lawrence quieted his breathing and listened carefully.
Crunch, crunch came the sound of their pursuer's cautious footsteps.
From where Lawrence was standing, it sounded as if they were coming from a passage that led off to the right some distance ahead.
The path they'd taken was now directly behind them. If they doubled back on it, many possible paths branched off of it. They hoped to guess the timing and run back, then escape down one of those paths
Crunch, crunch, came the sound as the footsteps grew closer. There was still a wall between them and the source of the noise, which was encouraging, but the footfalls were incessant—it was as though the Medio men were purposefully causing a commotion as they talked in some kind of incomprehensible code.
Lawrence felt as though they'd already fallen into the trap, and their pursuers needed only to toss a net out to capture them.
He gulped painfully, gauging the timing for their sprint.
He hoped to run as soon as there was another shout from the Medio Company people.
It was not a long wait.
"Ah, ah..."
Another sound came from the direction of the footsteps. A sneeze.
Lawrence took this as a blessing from the gods and grabbed Holo's hand tightly in preparation to run.
"Ah-choo!"
It sounded as though whoever sneezed realized his mistake and tried to muffle the sound with a hand.
But it was more than enough for the two to begin their flight. They turned left at the first junction.
Just then, something black crossed in front of their faces.
Lawrence realized it was no mere rat when Holo began to growl.
"Rrrrrr."
"Wha—shit! Here! They're here!"
A small, almost child-sized clump of darkness wove this way and that before Lawrence. He felt something hot on his left cheek. He realized it was a knife wound when he put his hand to it and felt the warm wetness there.
When he realized that Holo had abandoned escape and even now had her teeth in the arm of their knife-wielding attacker, Lawrence, too, lost control.
Strengthened by hauling loads heavier than themselves over mountains and across plains, traveling merchants had fists as hard as silver.
Lawrence put all his strength behind his right fist as he punched, hitting the man Holo was attacking square in the face at a slightly upward angle.
There was an awful squishing sound, as though a frog had just been stepped on, as Lawrence's fist connected.
With his other hand, Lawrence reached out for Holo and snagged the back of her shirt, pulling her back to him.
The shadow that the fist had struck tumbled slowly backward. There was no time to say anything—Lawrence took off running, trying to find a different path.
But he soon realized that the sneeze had been a ploy to flush them out.
As the body hit the ground with a whump, Lawrence felt a shock, as if the blood in his veins suddenly reversed direction.
The moment they tried to turn, a blade thrust directly into Lawrence.
"O holy God, forgive me my sins..."
Hearing his opponent's words, Lawrence realized this man intended to kill him.
There in the darkness, his assailant held his breath, surely thinking he had in fact slain his target.


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

Input:
"Damn. We'll have to head back. I don't remember anything else."
If they pushed ahead into unknown passages, there would be no going back.
Lawrence's memories were already quite shaky, but seeing Holo nod her assent, he didn't say so, not wanting her to feel any more uncertain.
"Can you still run?" he asked.
Lawrence was a hale and hardy traveling merchant, and despite his fatigue, he knew he could still run—but Holo could only nod her head in answer.
Perhaps her human body wasn't as capable as her wolf form.
"Just a bit," she said hastily as she gasped for air.
"Let's find a place to..." Lawrence began. He was going to say "rest," but he caught Holo's glance and the word never got out of his throat.
Her pupils glowed keenly in the darkness, every inch the forest predator scanning its surroundings.
Heartened to have someone like Holo as his companion, Lawrence quieted his breathing and listened carefully.
Crunch, crunch came the sound of their pursuer's cautious footsteps.
From where Lawrence was standing, it sounded as if they were coming from a passage that led off to the right some distance ahead.
The path they'd taken was now directly behind them. If they doubled back on it, many possible paths branched off of it. They hoped to guess the timing and run back, then escape down one of those paths
Crunch, crunch, came the sound as the footsteps grew closer. There was still a wall between them and the source of the noise, which was encouraging, but the footfalls were incessant—it was as though the Medio men were purposefully causing a commotion as they talked in some kind of incomprehensible code.
Lawrence felt as though they'd already fallen into the trap, and their pursuers needed only to toss a net out to capture them.
He gulped painfully, gauging the timing for their sprint.
He hoped to run as soon as there was another shout from the Medio Company people.
It was not a long wait.
"Ah, ah..."
Another sound came from the direction of the footsteps. A sneeze.
Lawrence took this as a blessing from the gods and grabbed Holo's hand tightly in preparation to run.
"Ah-choo!"
It sounded as though whoever sneezed realized his mistake and tried to muffle the sound with a hand.
But it was more than enough for the two to begin their flight. They turned left at the first junction.
Just then, something black crossed in front of their faces.
Lawrence realized it was no mere rat when Holo began to growl.
"Rrrrrr."
"Wha—shit! Here! They're here!"
A small, almost child-sized clump of darkness wove this way and that before Lawrence. He felt something hot on his left cheek. He realized it was a knife wound when he put his hand to it and felt the warm wetness there.
When he realized that Holo had abandoned escape and even now had her teeth in the arm of their knife-wielding attacker, Lawrence, too, lost control.
Strengthened by hauling loads heavier than themselves over mountains and across plains, traveling merchants had fists as hard as silver.
Lawrence put all his strength behind his right fist as he punched, hitting the man Holo was attacking square in the face at a slightly upward angle.
There was an awful squishing sound, as though a frog had just been stepped on, as Lawrence's fist connected.
With his other hand, Lawrence reached out for Holo and snagged the back of her shirt, pulling her back to him.
The shadow that the fist had struck tumbled slowly backward. There was no time to say anything—Lawrence took off running, trying to find a different path.
But he soon realized that the sneeze had been a ploy to flush them out.
As the body hit the ground with a whump, Lawrence felt a shock, as if the blood in his veins suddenly reversed direction.
The moment they tried to turn, a blade thrust directly into Lawrence.
"O holy God, forgive me my sins..."
Hearing his opponent's words, Lawrence realized this man intended to kill him.
There in the darkness, his assailant held his breath, surely thinking he had in fact slain his target.

Output:
"Before you think about your sins," said Lawrence, raising his leg and delivering a vicious kick to the man's thigh, "regret your daily deeds!"
The man dropped soundlessly, and Lawrence grabbed Holo's sleeve with his right hand and sprinted past him.
The sounds of the Medio Company closing in echoed all around them.
They veered down a path to the left, then went immediately right—but not because of some plan or because Lawrence remembered the way.
They simply ran. Stopping was not an option. Lawrence's left arm felt heavy, as if it were sinking into a swamp, and it burned as though impaled on a piece of red-hot iron. His left hand was cold, perhaps from the blood that flowed freely from the wound in his arm.
He would not be able to run much farther. Lawrence had been wounded several times in his travels. He knew the limits of his own body.
It was hard to tell how far they'd come in the darkness. The confused echoes of their pursuers eroded his fading consciousness like rain over grasslands.
When even their pursuers started to sound distant, he had no energy left with which to worry about Holo. He didn't know how long he'd be able to keep going.
"Lawrence."
When he heard someone calling his name, he wondered if it was the Grim Reaper already.
"Lawrence, are you all right?"
He returned to himself with a start, realizing that he was leaning against the wall of the tunnel.
"What a relief. You weren't moving when I called to you."
"...Ugh. I'm okay. Just a little sleepy," Lawrence said.
Lawrence wasn't sure if he succeeded in smiling. An irritated Holo hit him in the chest.
"Pull yourself together! We're almost there."
"...We're almost where?"
"Did you not hear me? I said I can smell the warmth of the sun ahead. There must be a way to the surface close by."
Lawrence had no memory of hearing this at all, but he nodded, righting himself, and staggered forward. He realized his arm had been bandaged with cloth.
"...This bandage?"
"I tore my sleeves off to patch you up. You didn't notice?"
"Uh, no, of course I noticed. I'm fine." Lawrence made sure to give a reassuring smile; Holo said nothing. When they continued walking, though, she led the way.
"Just a bit farther. We'll take this passage, then turn right..." she began, taking Lawrence's hand—but then stopped short. He could tell why.
More footsteps behind them.
"Hurry, hurry," said Holo hoarsely. Lawrence quickened his pace, feeling near the end of his strength.
Although their pursuers were getting closer, they were still some distance off. As long as they could climb to the surface, Lawrence imagined they would be able to convince the citizenry to help them, given his condition.
The Medio Company probably wouldn't want a scene in front of so many witnesses.
As long as she took the opportunity to contact the Milone Company, Holo's escape would be enough. The top priority now was to meet with the Milone people again and restrategize.
Lawrence mulled this over as he heaved his body forward, though it seemed to grow heavier by the second. At length, just as Holo said, he saw light ahead.
The light shone from the upper right down to the left. The footsteps behind them grew closer, but it looked as if they were going to make it.
Holo pulled harder on Lawrence's arm to hurry him forward; he tried his best to keep up.
At the end of the path, they turned right.
"It goes to the surface—just a little farther!"
Vitality had returned to Holo's voice, and Lawrence pressed forward, encouraged.
The prey had escaped the hunter by the slimmest of margins.
Of that much Lawrence was certain.
That is, until he heard Holo's voice on the verge of tears.
"N-no..." she said.
Lawrence looked up.
Even when he looked down, the light stung his eyes, which had adjusted to total darkness. It took him a few moments to focus, but once he did, he understood the reason for Holo's dismay.


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

Input:
"Before you think about your sins," said Lawrence, raising his leg and delivering a vicious kick to the man's thigh, "regret your daily deeds!"
The man dropped soundlessly, and Lawrence grabbed Holo's sleeve with his right hand and sprinted past him.
The sounds of the Medio Company closing in echoed all around them.
They veered down a path to the left, then went immediately right—but not because of some plan or because Lawrence remembered the way.
They simply ran. Stopping was not an option. Lawrence's left arm felt heavy, as if it were sinking into a swamp, and it burned as though impaled on a piece of red-hot iron. His left hand was cold, perhaps from the blood that flowed freely from the wound in his arm.
He would not be able to run much farther. Lawrence had been wounded several times in his travels. He knew the limits of his own body.
It was hard to tell how far they'd come in the darkness. The confused echoes of their pursuers eroded his fading consciousness like rain over grasslands.
When even their pursuers started to sound distant, he had no energy left with which to worry about Holo. He didn't know how long he'd be able to keep going.
"Lawrence."
When he heard someone calling his name, he wondered if it was the Grim Reaper already.
"Lawrence, are you all right?"
He returned to himself with a start, realizing that he was leaning against the wall of the tunnel.
"What a relief. You weren't moving when I called to you."
"...Ugh. I'm okay. Just a little sleepy," Lawrence said.
Lawrence wasn't sure if he succeeded in smiling. An irritated Holo hit him in the chest.
"Pull yourself together! We're almost there."
"...We're almost where?"
"Did you not hear me? I said I can smell the warmth of the sun ahead. There must be a way to the surface close by."
Lawrence had no memory of hearing this at all, but he nodded, righting himself, and staggered forward. He realized his arm had been bandaged with cloth.
"...This bandage?"
"I tore my sleeves off to patch you up. You didn't notice?"
"Uh, no, of course I noticed. I'm fine." Lawrence made sure to give a reassuring smile; Holo said nothing. When they continued walking, though, she led the way.
"Just a bit farther. We'll take this passage, then turn right..." she began, taking Lawrence's hand—but then stopped short. He could tell why.
More footsteps behind them.
"Hurry, hurry," said Holo hoarsely. Lawrence quickened his pace, feeling near the end of his strength.
Although their pursuers were getting closer, they were still some distance off. As long as they could climb to the surface, Lawrence imagined they would be able to convince the citizenry to help them, given his condition.
The Medio Company probably wouldn't want a scene in front of so many witnesses.
As long as she took the opportunity to contact the Milone Company, Holo's escape would be enough. The top priority now was to meet with the Milone people again and restrategize.
Lawrence mulled this over as he heaved his body forward, though it seemed to grow heavier by the second. At length, just as Holo said, he saw light ahead.
The light shone from the upper right down to the left. The footsteps behind them grew closer, but it looked as if they were going to make it.
Holo pulled harder on Lawrence's arm to hurry him forward; he tried his best to keep up.
At the end of the path, they turned right.
"It goes to the surface—just a little farther!"
Vitality had returned to Holo's voice, and Lawrence pressed forward, encouraged.
The prey had escaped the hunter by the slimmest of margins.
Of that much Lawrence was certain.
That is, until he heard Holo's voice on the verge of tears.
"N-no..." she said.
Lawrence looked up.
Even when he looked down, the light stung his eyes, which had adjusted to total darkness. It took him a few moments to focus, but once he did, he understood the reason for Holo's dismay.

Output:
But the hole in the ceiling was too high. Lawrence stretched and could just barely touch the ceiling, but the well opening was even higher than that.
Without a rope or a ladder, it was simply impossible for the two of them to escape.
Lawrence and Holo fell silent, despairing like loan sharks looking down the long path to heaven.
Then, as if to confirm that they were well and truly cornered, the source of the footsteps behind them rounded the corner.
"Found them!" a voice cried, at which point the pair finally looked back.
Holo looked up at Lawrence, who drew his dagger with his good right hand, and with a movement so slow it was as if he were underwater, blocked the path between her and their pursuers.
"Back up."
Lawrence planned to advance, but his legs had no more strength left in them. He was rooted to the spot, unable to take another step.
"You can't—you're through!" said Holo.
"Hardly. I can still move," Lawrence managed in a nonchalant tone. Turning to look at her over his shoulder would've been impossible, though.
"Fool, you don't need my ears to know that's a lie," snapped Holo. Lawrence ignored her and fixed his gaze straight ahead.
He saw five Medio men at a glance. Each wielded a knife or staff, and more footsteps signaled reinforcements on the way.
Despite their overwhelming advantage, the five men did not converge, choosing instead to stop at the corner and scrutinize the pair.
Lawrence imagined they were waiting for backup, though five men were more than sufficient to take both him and his companion. Lawrence was obviously in no shape for a fight, and Holo was just a girl.
But the men held fast, and at length more arrived. The first five looked back, then stepped aside.
"Ah—" Holo made a sound as a figure rounded the corner.
Lawrence, too, nearly spoke.
The man rounding the corner was none other than Yarei.
"I wondered, given the description we got," he said. "But to think it really was you, Lawrence."
Unlike the residents who lived within the city walls, or the dusty, sweaty merchants that traveled between them, Yarei wore the colors of the sun and the earth and looked almost sad as he spoke.
"I'm just as surprised," said Lawrence. "Most of Pasloe thinks only of sickle or hoe at the mention of metal—to think they'd be involved in such a grand silver scheme."
"There are few who understand this transaction," said Yarei, as if it wasn't his village at all, which was understandable given his attire. The depth of his connection with the Medio Company was self-evident in its color and texture.
A humble farmer would never be able to afford such finery.
"Let's catch up later, shall we? We've no time for it now."
"Come now, Yarei—I came all the way to your village and still wasn't able to see you."
"Ah, but you met someone else, didn't you?" Yarei glanced past Lawrence to Holo behind him. "I wouldn't have thought it possible, but she really is right out of the fairy tales. The wolf-spirit incarnate, responsible for harvests great and poor."
Lawrence felt Holo flinch but didn't turn to look at her.
"Hand her over," Yarei demanded. "We'll give her to the Church and put the old ways to rest forever!" He took a step forward. "Lawrence, if we have her, we can destroy the Milone Company. Then once we've abolished the wheat tariff, the wheat of our village will be hugely profitable, and we who sell it rich men. Nothing is so profitable as an untaxed commodity."
Yarei was two paces from them when Holo grabbed Lawrence's shirt. Despite his dizziness, he could feel her hands trembling.
"Lawrence, our village still remembers that you bought wheat from us when we were suffering under heavy taxation. It would be no trouble to give you purchasing priority now. And we're friends, nay? Surely as a merchant you can figure gain and loss."


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

Input:
But the hole in the ceiling was too high. Lawrence stretched and could just barely touch the ceiling, but the well opening was even higher than that.
Without a rope or a ladder, it was simply impossible for the two of them to escape.
Lawrence and Holo fell silent, despairing like loan sharks looking down the long path to heaven.
Then, as if to confirm that they were well and truly cornered, the source of the footsteps behind them rounded the corner.
"Found them!" a voice cried, at which point the pair finally looked back.
Holo looked up at Lawrence, who drew his dagger with his good right hand, and with a movement so slow it was as if he were underwater, blocked the path between her and their pursuers.
"Back up."
Lawrence planned to advance, but his legs had no more strength left in them. He was rooted to the spot, unable to take another step.
"You can't—you're through!" said Holo.
"Hardly. I can still move," Lawrence managed in a nonchalant tone. Turning to look at her over his shoulder would've been impossible, though.
"Fool, you don't need my ears to know that's a lie," snapped Holo. Lawrence ignored her and fixed his gaze straight ahead.
He saw five Medio men at a glance. Each wielded a knife or staff, and more footsteps signaled reinforcements on the way.
Despite their overwhelming advantage, the five men did not converge, choosing instead to stop at the corner and scrutinize the pair.
Lawrence imagined they were waiting for backup, though five men were more than sufficient to take both him and his companion. Lawrence was obviously in no shape for a fight, and Holo was just a girl.
But the men held fast, and at length more arrived. The first five looked back, then stepped aside.
"Ah—" Holo made a sound as a figure rounded the corner.
Lawrence, too, nearly spoke.
The man rounding the corner was none other than Yarei.
"I wondered, given the description we got," he said. "But to think it really was you, Lawrence."
Unlike the residents who lived within the city walls, or the dusty, sweaty merchants that traveled between them, Yarei wore the colors of the sun and the earth and looked almost sad as he spoke.
"I'm just as surprised," said Lawrence. "Most of Pasloe thinks only of sickle or hoe at the mention of metal—to think they'd be involved in such a grand silver scheme."
"There are few who understand this transaction," said Yarei, as if it wasn't his village at all, which was understandable given his attire. The depth of his connection with the Medio Company was self-evident in its color and texture.
A humble farmer would never be able to afford such finery.
"Let's catch up later, shall we? We've no time for it now."
"Come now, Yarei—I came all the way to your village and still wasn't able to see you."
"Ah, but you met someone else, didn't you?" Yarei glanced past Lawrence to Holo behind him. "I wouldn't have thought it possible, but she really is right out of the fairy tales. The wolf-spirit incarnate, responsible for harvests great and poor."
Lawrence felt Holo flinch but didn't turn to look at her.
"Hand her over," Yarei demanded. "We'll give her to the Church and put the old ways to rest forever!" He took a step forward. "Lawrence, if we have her, we can destroy the Milone Company. Then once we've abolished the wheat tariff, the wheat of our village will be hugely profitable, and we who sell it rich men. Nothing is so profitable as an untaxed commodity."
Yarei was two paces from them when Holo grabbed Lawrence's shirt. Despite his dizziness, he could feel her hands trembling.
"Lawrence, our village still remembers that you bought wheat from us when we were suffering under heavy taxation. It would be no trouble to give you purchasing priority now. And we're friends, nay? Surely as a merchant you can figure gain and loss."

Output:
Yarei promised the fulfillment of his dreams.
"Oh, I can figure gain and loss all right," said Lawrence.
"Ho, Lawrence!" said Yarei brightly, his arms wide in welcome. Holo tightened her grip on Lawrence's shirt.
Lawrence used the last of his strength to turn back to Holo, who looked up at him.
Her amber eyes saddened as she looked at him; she soon closed them.
Lawrence slowly turned back around.
"However, a merchant must always honor his contracts," he said.
"Lawrence?" asked Yarei suspiciously.
Lawrence continued. "As fate would have it, this strange girl I've picked up wishes to return to the northlands. I have a contract to accompany her there. Breaking that contract is something I cannot do, Yarei."
"You—" a shocked Holo began as Lawrence stared down Yarei.
Yarei shook his head in disbelief, sighing deeply, then looked at Lawrence. "In that case, I have no choice but to fulfill my contract."
He raised his right hand, and the gathered Medio henchmen, who'd only watched until that point, took aggressive stances.
"I'm sorry our friendship was a short one, Lawrence."
"A traveling merchant is always saying good-bye," replied Lawrence.
"You can kill the man. Bring the girl alive." Yarei's voice was cold now, like a different person entirely. The Medio lackeys advanced.
Lawrence held the dagger fast in his right hand, but he was still unable to take a step either forward or back.
If he could somehow buy them just a bit more time, the Milone Company might yet come to their rescue. He clung to that hope as he waved the dagger about clumsily.
In that moment, Holo flung her arms around him.
"H-Holo, what are you—"
Her slender arms held him fast, then forced him to the ground.
He wondered where she'd gotten this sudden strength, but then realized it was probably because he had no power left to resist.
Holo couldn't actually support his weight, so Lawrence half-fell backward, landing on his rear. The impact dislodged the knife from his hand.
Lawrence reached for the dagger and tried to get up, but he couldn't manage it. Unable to support even his outstreched arm, he fell forward.
"Holo...the dagger..."
"That's enough."
"Holo?"
She gave no response save putting her hand to Lawrence's outstretched arm.
"This may hurt a bit. Please bear it."
"What—"
Lawrence failed to utter another word before Holo undid the bandage on his left arm and sniffed at the exposed wound.
Suddenly his memory returned. He recalled their conversation when they first met, when he made her prove she was truly a wolf.
He remembered her nonchalant reply.
To assume her wolf form, she needed either a bit of wheat or...
...Fresh blood.
"What are you doing! Hurry, take them!" Yarei shouted, and the Medio henchmen—whose advance had been stalled by Holo's strange actions—regained their senses and began to close in.
Holo closed her eyes, bared her fangs, and sank them into Lawrence's wound.
"Sh-she's drinking his blood!"
Holo opened her eyes slightly at the shout and glanced at Lawrence.
He couldn't have conjectured as to his own expression, but Holo seemed to smile sadly at him.
After all, only a demon would drink blood.
"Don't fall back! She's only a possessed girl! Get her!" Yarei's exhortations were no use; the men were frozen in their tracks.
Holo slowly pulled her mouth back from Lawrence's arm; her transformation had already begun.
"I'll always..." she began as her long hair began to stir, transforming into animal fur. Her arms, visible through her torn sleeves, took the form of wolf paws.
"I'll always remember that you chose me."
She cleaned the blood from the corner of her mouth with her bright red tongue rather than her hand, an image that lingered with Lawrence.
"Lawrence—" she said, standing and facing him. She had a small, sad smile on her face as she spoke her final words.
"Please don't look at me."


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

Input:
Yarei promised the fulfillment of his dreams.
"Oh, I can figure gain and loss all right," said Lawrence.
"Ho, Lawrence!" said Yarei brightly, his arms wide in welcome. Holo tightened her grip on Lawrence's shirt.
Lawrence used the last of his strength to turn back to Holo, who looked up at him.
Her amber eyes saddened as she looked at him; she soon closed them.
Lawrence slowly turned back around.
"However, a merchant must always honor his contracts," he said.
"Lawrence?" asked Yarei suspiciously.
Lawrence continued. "As fate would have it, this strange girl I've picked up wishes to return to the northlands. I have a contract to accompany her there. Breaking that contract is something I cannot do, Yarei."
"You—" a shocked Holo began as Lawrence stared down Yarei.
Yarei shook his head in disbelief, sighing deeply, then looked at Lawrence. "In that case, I have no choice but to fulfill my contract."
He raised his right hand, and the gathered Medio henchmen, who'd only watched until that point, took aggressive stances.
"I'm sorry our friendship was a short one, Lawrence."
"A traveling merchant is always saying good-bye," replied Lawrence.
"You can kill the man. Bring the girl alive." Yarei's voice was cold now, like a different person entirely. The Medio lackeys advanced.
Lawrence held the dagger fast in his right hand, but he was still unable to take a step either forward or back.
If he could somehow buy them just a bit more time, the Milone Company might yet come to their rescue. He clung to that hope as he waved the dagger about clumsily.
In that moment, Holo flung her arms around him.
"H-Holo, what are you—"
Her slender arms held him fast, then forced him to the ground.
He wondered where she'd gotten this sudden strength, but then realized it was probably because he had no power left to resist.
Holo couldn't actually support his weight, so Lawrence half-fell backward, landing on his rear. The impact dislodged the knife from his hand.
Lawrence reached for the dagger and tried to get up, but he couldn't manage it. Unable to support even his outstreched arm, he fell forward.
"Holo...the dagger..."
"That's enough."
"Holo?"
She gave no response save putting her hand to Lawrence's outstretched arm.
"This may hurt a bit. Please bear it."
"What—"
Lawrence failed to utter another word before Holo undid the bandage on his left arm and sniffed at the exposed wound.
Suddenly his memory returned. He recalled their conversation when they first met, when he made her prove she was truly a wolf.
He remembered her nonchalant reply.
To assume her wolf form, she needed either a bit of wheat or...
...Fresh blood.
"What are you doing! Hurry, take them!" Yarei shouted, and the Medio henchmen—whose advance had been stalled by Holo's strange actions—regained their senses and began to close in.
Holo closed her eyes, bared her fangs, and sank them into Lawrence's wound.
"Sh-she's drinking his blood!"
Holo opened her eyes slightly at the shout and glanced at Lawrence.
He couldn't have conjectured as to his own expression, but Holo seemed to smile sadly at him.
After all, only a demon would drink blood.
"Don't fall back! She's only a possessed girl! Get her!" Yarei's exhortations were no use; the men were frozen in their tracks.
Holo slowly pulled her mouth back from Lawrence's arm; her transformation had already begun.
"I'll always..." she began as her long hair began to stir, transforming into animal fur. Her arms, visible through her torn sleeves, took the form of wolf paws.
"I'll always remember that you chose me."
She cleaned the blood from the corner of her mouth with her bright red tongue rather than her hand, an image that lingered with Lawrence.
"Lawrence—" she said, standing and facing him. She had a small, sad smile on her face as she spoke her final words.
"Please don't look at me."

Output:
Lawrence automatically reached out for the wheat in which Holo lived. When he looked back up, a massive wolf stood before him.
Its paws were tipped with scythelike claws, and its teeth were so large that the shape of each fang was clearly visible. It looked capable of eating a man in a single bite.
The wolf was so massive that the very air around it felt heavy and hot—as if one might melt by mere proximity. In spite of that, its eyes were cool and calculating.
There was no escape.
Every man in the tunnel came to the same conclusion at once.
"Aaaaauuggh!" The single cry was the trigger. Most of the assailants dropped their weapons and ran. Two men hurled their weapons at the wolf, mostly out of terror.
The beast moved its muzzle adroitly, picking up each iron weapon in turn and crushing it between massive jaws.
This was a god.
In the northlands, the word "god" was used to describe anything beyond a human's ability to engage.
Lawrence had never understood that definition until now—and now he understood it all too well.
There was nothing anyone could do to this wolf. Nothing at all.
"Guh—"
"Wha—"
The two that threw their weapons made strangled exclamations that were barely worthy of the term.
The wolf swatted them aside with a massive paw, then ran forward, seeming almost to slide over the ground.
"None of you will leave here alive!" a low, bestial voice echoed. The sounds of claw striking iron mingled with the cries of the felled as Lawrence frantically tried to right himself.
But the massacre ended in an instant.
The wolf paused, and the voice of perhaps the last man left alive was audible.
"G-gods are always like that...always...unfair..." It was Yarei's voice.
There was no response but the sound of the colossal wolf opening its jaws. Lawrence cried out.
"Holo, no!"
There was a snap, surely those same jaws closing.
The image of Yarei's torso in Holo's fangs came unbidden to Lawrence's mind. It was unthinkable that Yarei could escape. He was a bird with no chance to avoid the hound's attack.
But after a few moments of silence, Holo turned around in the narrow passageway, and her teeth were not smeared with the blood Lawrence expected.
Instead, an unconscious Yarei dangled helplessly from her fangs.
"Holo..." Lawrence murmured her name in relief, but Holo merely dropped Yarei to the ground and did not look at him.
A low voice sounded.
"The wheat..."
The growl suited the great body, and Lawrence cringed to hear it.
He knew it was Holo, but he couldn't help himself. If she looked straight at him, he didn't know if he'd be able to stay composed.
The wolf demanded his awe.
"The wheat—bring it to me," repeated Holo. Lawrence nodded and held out the pouch of wheat in his hand.
Just then, Lawrence felt a heavy pressure, and his body recoiled from it.
When he saw Holo's lip curl over her fanged jaw, he realized he'd made a terrible mistake.
"That is your answer. Now, the wheat—"
Although he knew that Holo intended to take the wheat and leave, her words, as if by some strange magic, compelled his arm to reach out and hand it over.
But he lacked the strength to support the arm or even to hold the pouch.
First the pouch fell from his limp hand to the ground, then his arm collapsed against him.
He wouldn't be able to pick it up again.
Lawrence looked at the pouch in despair.
"I thank you for taking care of me," said Holo as she approached, deftly picking up the small bag in her massive jaws.
Those amber eyes never once glanced at Lawrence as she backed up one, two, three steps, then turned dextrously in the small tunnel and began to walk away.
The white-tipped tail that was Holo's pride and joy caught his eye. It was magnificent as it waved sadly and receded down the passage.
Lawrence shouted. His voice was so weak it could barely be considered a shout, but he sounded with all his remaining strength.
"W-wait!"
Holo kept walking.


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

Input:
Lawrence automatically reached out for the wheat in which Holo lived. When he looked back up, a massive wolf stood before him.
Its paws were tipped with scythelike claws, and its teeth were so large that the shape of each fang was clearly visible. It looked capable of eating a man in a single bite.
The wolf was so massive that the very air around it felt heavy and hot—as if one might melt by mere proximity. In spite of that, its eyes were cool and calculating.
There was no escape.
Every man in the tunnel came to the same conclusion at once.
"Aaaaauuggh!" The single cry was the trigger. Most of the assailants dropped their weapons and ran. Two men hurled their weapons at the wolf, mostly out of terror.
The beast moved its muzzle adroitly, picking up each iron weapon in turn and crushing it between massive jaws.
This was a god.
In the northlands, the word "god" was used to describe anything beyond a human's ability to engage.
Lawrence had never understood that definition until now—and now he understood it all too well.
There was nothing anyone could do to this wolf. Nothing at all.
"Guh—"
"Wha—"
The two that threw their weapons made strangled exclamations that were barely worthy of the term.
The wolf swatted them aside with a massive paw, then ran forward, seeming almost to slide over the ground.
"None of you will leave here alive!" a low, bestial voice echoed. The sounds of claw striking iron mingled with the cries of the felled as Lawrence frantically tried to right himself.
But the massacre ended in an instant.
The wolf paused, and the voice of perhaps the last man left alive was audible.
"G-gods are always like that...always...unfair..." It was Yarei's voice.
There was no response but the sound of the colossal wolf opening its jaws. Lawrence cried out.
"Holo, no!"
There was a snap, surely those same jaws closing.
The image of Yarei's torso in Holo's fangs came unbidden to Lawrence's mind. It was unthinkable that Yarei could escape. He was a bird with no chance to avoid the hound's attack.
But after a few moments of silence, Holo turned around in the narrow passageway, and her teeth were not smeared with the blood Lawrence expected.
Instead, an unconscious Yarei dangled helplessly from her fangs.
"Holo..." Lawrence murmured her name in relief, but Holo merely dropped Yarei to the ground and did not look at him.
A low voice sounded.
"The wheat..."
The growl suited the great body, and Lawrence cringed to hear it.
He knew it was Holo, but he couldn't help himself. If she looked straight at him, he didn't know if he'd be able to stay composed.
The wolf demanded his awe.
"The wheat—bring it to me," repeated Holo. Lawrence nodded and held out the pouch of wheat in his hand.
Just then, Lawrence felt a heavy pressure, and his body recoiled from it.
When he saw Holo's lip curl over her fanged jaw, he realized he'd made a terrible mistake.
"That is your answer. Now, the wheat—"
Although he knew that Holo intended to take the wheat and leave, her words, as if by some strange magic, compelled his arm to reach out and hand it over.
But he lacked the strength to support the arm or even to hold the pouch.
First the pouch fell from his limp hand to the ground, then his arm collapsed against him.
He wouldn't be able to pick it up again.
Lawrence looked at the pouch in despair.
"I thank you for taking care of me," said Holo as she approached, deftly picking up the small bag in her massive jaws.
Those amber eyes never once glanced at Lawrence as she backed up one, two, three steps, then turned dextrously in the small tunnel and began to walk away.
The white-tipped tail that was Holo's pride and joy caught his eye. It was magnificent as it waved sadly and receded down the passage.
Lawrence shouted. His voice was so weak it could barely be considered a shout, but he sounded with all his remaining strength.
"W-wait!"
Holo kept walking.

Output:
But his body had reacted instinctively. Humans couldn't help that they feared the unknown, and so he had cowered before Holo.
Still, Lawrence thought. Still, he called out her name.
"Holo!" shouted his hoarse voice.
It was useless, he realized—and just then, Holo stopped.
This was his chance. If he couldn't change her mind here, he would never see her again.
But what to say? Scenarios flitted in and out of his mind.
He couldn't convincingly claim he wasn't afraid of her. Her form still terrified him. But he wanted to stop her. He couldn't find the words to express the conflict he felt.
His mind worked frantically. No doubt Holo would've mocked him for being inarticulate as he tried to put together the words that would bring her back.
"How...how much do you think the clothes you destroyed cost?" was what he finally came up with. "I don't care if you're a god or not...I'll see you pay me back! You earned but seventy silver pieces—that's not nearly enough!"
He yelled at her, trying to sound angry—no, he was genuinely half-angry.
He knew that begging her not to go would be pointless. As he was still terrified of her form, he could only conjure this single reason to prevent her going.
The grudge a merchant will bear over money is deeper than a valley, and a merchant collecting a debt is more persistent than the moon in the night sky.
Lawrence put as much venom into his words as he could to convey that. He was not telling her that he didn't want her to leave. He was telling her that leaving would be pointless.
"How many years do you think it took me...to save up that much money? I'll follow you...I'll follow you all the way back to the northlands, if I have to!"
Lawrence's voice echoed through the underground tunnels for a while before finally fading.
Holo stood there awhile, then flicked her large tail.
Was she going to turn around?
Lawrence's strength finally failed him, and he collapsed to the ground even as his chest filled with a nervous impatience.
Holo began walking again.
Her paws pattered softly against the floor of the passage: tupp, tupp.
Lawrence felt his vision grow dim.
I'm not crying, the merchant told himself as his consciousness sank into eternity.
***
Lawrence stood in utter darkness. Where he was and what he was doing there he did not know.
Darkness hung in every direction, but strangely, he could see his own body.
He wondered where he was.
As he pondered it, he caught a flash of something out of the corner of his eye.
He turned to face it reflexively, but there was nothing. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it had been his imagination, when again the shape flitted across the corner of his vision.
Was it a flame?
He turned again to face it and this time managed a good view of the shape.
It was a chestnut-brown something, waving.
He stared at it, finally realizing that it was no flame.
It was fur. It was a long clump of brown fur that waved.
And it was tipped with a white tuft.
Lawrence's eyes widened and his breath caught. He sprinted toward it.
That tail—that white tuft—!
It was Holo. There was no mistaking Holo's tail.
It grew smaller as it waved, and Lawrence called out for it as he ran with all his might.
But no sound issued from his mouth, and the distance to Holo's tail never diminished.
His feet seemed to grow heavier, which frustrated him. He gritted his teeth and, even as he realized the futility of it, stretched out his right hand.
Holo's tail abruptly disappeared.
At that moment, Lawrence blinked and looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
"Ugh—"
He sat up with a start and pain immediately shot through his left arm. For a moment he was confused, but the pain brought his memories back in a rush.
The Medio Company pursuing him. His arm being stabbed. Being cornered.
And Holo leaving him.
Remembering her tail waving forlornly as she receded, Lawrence sighed.
Trapped in a body that could sit up only with effort, he wondered if there was anything else he could have said to her.


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

Input:
But his body had reacted instinctively. Humans couldn't help that they feared the unknown, and so he had cowered before Holo.
Still, Lawrence thought. Still, he called out her name.
"Holo!" shouted his hoarse voice.
It was useless, he realized—and just then, Holo stopped.
This was his chance. If he couldn't change her mind here, he would never see her again.
But what to say? Scenarios flitted in and out of his mind.
He couldn't convincingly claim he wasn't afraid of her. Her form still terrified him. But he wanted to stop her. He couldn't find the words to express the conflict he felt.
His mind worked frantically. No doubt Holo would've mocked him for being inarticulate as he tried to put together the words that would bring her back.
"How...how much do you think the clothes you destroyed cost?" was what he finally came up with. "I don't care if you're a god or not...I'll see you pay me back! You earned but seventy silver pieces—that's not nearly enough!"
He yelled at her, trying to sound angry—no, he was genuinely half-angry.
He knew that begging her not to go would be pointless. As he was still terrified of her form, he could only conjure this single reason to prevent her going.
The grudge a merchant will bear over money is deeper than a valley, and a merchant collecting a debt is more persistent than the moon in the night sky.
Lawrence put as much venom into his words as he could to convey that. He was not telling her that he didn't want her to leave. He was telling her that leaving would be pointless.
"How many years do you think it took me...to save up that much money? I'll follow you...I'll follow you all the way back to the northlands, if I have to!"
Lawrence's voice echoed through the underground tunnels for a while before finally fading.
Holo stood there awhile, then flicked her large tail.
Was she going to turn around?
Lawrence's strength finally failed him, and he collapsed to the ground even as his chest filled with a nervous impatience.
Holo began walking again.
Her paws pattered softly against the floor of the passage: tupp, tupp.
Lawrence felt his vision grow dim.
I'm not crying, the merchant told himself as his consciousness sank into eternity.
***
Lawrence stood in utter darkness. Where he was and what he was doing there he did not know.
Darkness hung in every direction, but strangely, he could see his own body.
He wondered where he was.
As he pondered it, he caught a flash of something out of the corner of his eye.
He turned to face it reflexively, but there was nothing. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it had been his imagination, when again the shape flitted across the corner of his vision.
Was it a flame?
He turned again to face it and this time managed a good view of the shape.
It was a chestnut-brown something, waving.
He stared at it, finally realizing that it was no flame.
It was fur. It was a long clump of brown fur that waved.
And it was tipped with a white tuft.
Lawrence's eyes widened and his breath caught. He sprinted toward it.
That tail—that white tuft—!
It was Holo. There was no mistaking Holo's tail.
It grew smaller as it waved, and Lawrence called out for it as he ran with all his might.
But no sound issued from his mouth, and the distance to Holo's tail never diminished.
His feet seemed to grow heavier, which frustrated him. He gritted his teeth and, even as he realized the futility of it, stretched out his right hand.
Holo's tail abruptly disappeared.
At that moment, Lawrence blinked and looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
"Ugh—"
He sat up with a start and pain immediately shot through his left arm. For a moment he was confused, but the pain brought his memories back in a rush.
The Medio Company pursuing him. His arm being stabbed. Being cornered.
And Holo leaving him.
Remembering her tail waving forlornly as she receded, Lawrence sighed.
Trapped in a body that could sit up only with effort, he wondered if there was anything else he could have said to her.

Output:
"Ah, so you're awake, are you?"
Lawrence turned to face the unexpected voice, and saw Marheit in the doorway.
"How are your injuries?" Marheit walked toward Lawrence, documents in hand, and opened the window beside the merchant's bed.
"Better...thanks to you."
A pleasant breeze blew in through the window, carrying sounds of hustle and bustle from which Lawrence inferred that he was in a room at the Milone Company.
Which meant they had come to his rescue after all.
"I must apologize for putting you in such danger through our ineptitude."
"No, no, my companion was the cause of all this originally."
Marheit nodded at Lawrence's words and paused, seeming to choose his next statement carefully.
"Fortunately you were never discovered by the Church, and the disturbance happened underground. If the Church had seen your companion's true form, well...it's quite possible the entire company would've been burned as heretics."
"You saw her true form?" Lawrence asked, stunned.
"Indeed. The people we sent to rescue you returned with a report that there was a giant wolf that said it wouldn't hand you over until I came personally."
There was no reason for Marheit to lie. Which meant that after Lawrence lost consciousness, Holo returned to him.
"What of Holo, then? Where is she?"
"She's gone on to the marketplace. She was quite impatient and said she needed traveling clothes," said Marheit lightly, not knowing the circumstances—but Lawrence guessed that Holo planned to set off on her own.
She was probably on her way to the northland even now.
The thought left a hole in Lawrence's heart but perversely also helped him feel that he could now make a clean break.
The days they had spent together had been nothing more than a strange coincidence.
Lawrence forced himself to consider it thus, bringing himself back to the mindset of a merchant.
Aside from Holo, there was another important implication in Marheit's words.
"You said Holo went to the marketplace. Does that mean negotiations with the Medio Company went well?"
"Yes. Our messenger returned from the Trenni castle this morning, concluding negotiations with the king. We've obtained the considerations that the Medio Company so desperately wanted, and they seem to have acknowledged their defeat. Everything has gone very smoothly," said Marheit, pride filling his voice.
"I see. That's good to hear....So I've slept for a full day then, have I?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, yes you have. Would you care for some lunch? I was just in the kitchen, and I doubt they've turned off the stoves yet, so you could have something hot."
"No, that's quite all right. Could I perhaps hear the final results of our negotiation?"
"Yes, of course."
Lawrence found it slightly odd that someone from the south wasn't forcing food on him. Perhaps if he'd been from this area, Marheit would've been more insistent.
"The amount of silver we collected came to 307,212 pieces. The king plans to significantly cut the silver content of these coins, so he agreed to pay an amount equivalent to 350,000 pieces."
It was a staggering figure. Lawrence was not thinking about the absolute numbers, though—he was busy figuring his own approximate gain.
He was contractually entitled to five percent of the Milone Company's profit. Lawrence estimated it would come out to something in the neighborhood of two thousand silver pieces.
It would be enough for him to fulfill his dream, to open his own shop.
"According to our contract with you, Mr. Lawrence, we owe you five percent of our profit. Is that correct?"
Lawrence nodded, and Marheit nodded back.
Marheit then handed Lawrence a single sheet of paper. "Please confirm this," he said.
Lawrence didn't hear him.
An unbelievable figure was written on the paper.
"Wha...what's..."
"One hundred and twenty pieces—five percent of our profit," said Marheit coolly.
Yet Lawrence did not become angry. The paper made it clear what had happened to the gain they'd expected.