A noble womans summer account

This past summer, I wandered through hedgerows, lantern-lit streets, and bright green fields as though I were in a little piggy toiling in the mud.

Every day felt like a scene from a grand romance. The sun did shine upon me, the winds did whisper through the trees, and each morn brought forth the promise of yet another grand adventure. I traversed the countryside, I beheld nature in all her splendour, I-

I.... wait

Dost thou truly wish to hear of my summer exploits? Unless…

No, no, NO!

NAY, IT CANNOT BE!

The reason thou hast compelled me to put these words to parchment is…

No…

IS IT BECAUSE THOU HATEST ME?!

Hast thou truly summoned me forth merely to waste mine precious time?!

Nay! I shan’t believe it! Mine cater-cousin, that stood fast by my side in weal and woe, bided at my shoulder through every storm, and held hard by me in all fortunes?

NAY.

I REFUSE.

I shall not allow such treachery to enter mine heart, nor shall I permit such wicked thoughts to take root and taint mine mortal soul.

Nay! I shall cast them unto the abyss from whence they came and cling desperately to the belief that all of ye art merely busy, for I refuse...

REFUSE to believe that my sworn brethren hath forsaken me!

Surely, ye would never forsake me, is't possible?

All ye trusted fellows art but occupied elsewhere.

YES.

Therein lies the absolute truth.

By the heavens, it must, HAST TO BE SO!

I shan’t accept any other explanation, nor shall I entertain such treacherous thoughts, not for the space of a single breath!

Upon this rock I build my peace, for I am a woman of pure reason and dignity.

But,

Shouldst thou dare turn thy gaze from mine summer chronicle, and refuse to read the words I have so painstakingly set before thee...

Woe betide thee.

For the populace, dreading the onset of my terrible wrath, shall hunt ye down like a dog.

Ye shall be dragged before me in shackles, your perfidy laid before the entire village, and I shall see to it that mine justice is wrought upon your flesh with such ruinous, merciless fury that bards yet unborn shall weep to sing of the day ye didst commit so grievous a crime against my soul!

I shall not merely seek petty vengeance...

I shall become the FUCKING consequence.