Oliver, please... you know that if you won't do what Jerome asks, we might all die here," his wife Sigrid urges him.
"But why me? Why should I be the one to listen to him... you know that we could do this in a different way," Oliver says with indignation.
Sigrid then looked at him with downcast eyes and lamented, "I fully understand you, Oli⦠but you know how hell-bent he is on always getting his way. We just have to put up with it this time."
Oliver fell silent for a moment while gazing at his childhood friend, now his wife of 7 years - Sigrid. Her lithe figure, along with her straight raven black hair, which dropped right on her supple bubble butt, made her look not like a fairy but a bewitching and playful witch. The only missing thing, Oliver thought, was a witch hat. Sigrid's sharp bright green eyes and pale skin made a perfect contrast with her thick dark eyebrows and hair. Her high cheekbones and small pointed nose, together with full lips and a perfect forehead, made her look almost flawless and overly cute.
Sigrid, feeling his lingering gaze, smiled and put his hand into her warm yet flat bosom. "Go, just don't take it to your heart; I'll be waiting in our tent. I've been given such a precious gift, and I can't let her down," Oliver thought.
"Sigrid, with you, I feel like any mountain isn't unsurmountable, any starry sky isn't unreachable, any disaster isn't unbeatable," Oliver declared with a resolute look in his eyes.
Under the moon in the wild, two souls became even closer as they embraced to kiss.