Take a brief rest

After crawling through the narrow passageway, the young men need a bit of a break. Stewart looks around and sees an old fallen tree that offers some promise of a place to sit.

As he makes his way toward the object, he notices intricate carving all over its rough surface.

“What are these? Ancient runes?” he asks. As soon as he asks it, he realizes they can’t be all that old, since some of the markings look quite fresh, even in the limited light of the moon.

“Um... funny you should ask,” replies Duncan. “It’s actually sort of a trophy case for me. One of the first times I came out here, I brought Amanda Lincolngrave. We were going to pick applies, but we never made it past this old tree. I carved her initials here to commemorate a truly memorable few hours of bliss.” He points toward the letters “A.L.” at midpoint on the tree.

With this knowledge, Stewart again surveys the fallen tree. His eyes grow wide as he takes in scores of initials carved all over the wooden monument to his brother’s sexual conquests.

“Good heavens!” the king exclaims. “There’s hardly any bark left on this thing! Are you sure it wasn’t your carving that brought the tree down in the first place?”

Duncan runs his hand over the tree with pride and nostalgia showing on his face. “Ah, this brings back a lot of memories!” He points out a hollowed-out spot where the wood is worn smooth and splinter-free. “I used to add a tic-mark with every repeat performance, but it got to be too much. This spot here is the Lucy Greenshaw bench. That’s where she liked to plant her ass so she could rest her ankles on my shoulders and drill her hard. We did that so many times that my tally marks were threatening to carve right through the tree itself.”

Stewart asks, “Lucy Greenshaw? The daughter of Mother’s old seamstress?”

Duncan nods, smiling at the memory.

“But the Greenshaws moved away when you were fourteen.”

Duncan says nothing, but he smiles ever more broadly as he lovingly strokes the smooth wood.

Stewart is about to ask more questions when a sound causes both young men to stop and turn. It comes from a thicket about 50 yards away, and it is the unmistakable sound of a female laugh.

“Someone is out here,” whispers Stewart.

Duncan squints toward the origin of the sound, trying to see better in the dim light. “That’s weird... I haven’t encountered anyone out here before. It’s always been a great place for privacy.”

Stewart spares one more glance at the numerous letters carved in the tree and thinks to himself that the location certainly can’t be a state secret.

The unseen female laughs again — a high-pitched giggle — the kind made by someone who is being tickled. It is immediately muffled, and the men hear a masculine voice saying, “Why are you so ticklish tonight? What about if I do this....?”

The laughter returns, and the brothers look at each other and exchange grins.

“Someone is going for it,” says Duncan. “Want to take a peek?”