August Moone
Timing is Everything
Chapter 19
Song of Sorrows

	There was a brief rest-interlude, August needed it.  He lay exhausted up against the wall, Abigail lay beside him recovering as well.  This was only a brief period, Abby soon had her hand about his schlong, squeezing it and bringing it back to life.  August scrunched about on the bed until he was on his back, he felt better this way.  Abby lay up against him, a firm hold on his cock.  Soon she came to straddle him, this was okay, too.
	At first she just moved her sex up and down along his elongated organ, her eyes were closed and she slowly thrashed her head about, her nipples continuously pert.  His cock finally nestled back into that comfy spot in her body, her pussy fully engulfing it; Abby twitched, shuddered, and August felt a wash of her personal juices flood his balls.  He griped her ass flesh and jammed his rod into her relentlessly.  The fuck was on!

	Abby was good, no doubt about that.  She lay down on him and shoved her tongue into his mouth for a deep penetrating Frenching.  His hands continued to hold doggedly her ass, his balls slapping/cinching UP as he slammed his cock into her.  The sensation was incredible.
	At one point his hands gripped everything, the bed, the wall, her back, the bed, the wall again.  Abby lay her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder, her hips continuously working feverously into his body.  A strong scent came to August, that gingerbread smell.  It was much more stronger than before, almost overpowering.
	Bringing his hand up into Abby’s hair the scent was right there.  On his fingers.  He sniffed and sucked--gingerbread!  He was confused.  He looked around and found where he had scratched the wall.  He scratched the wall and then sniffed his fingers, then brought up a piece of the “plaster”.
	Gingerbread!
	Abby sat up, there was a wild fire in her eyes.  August gulped, he didn’t like where this was going.  Abby slowly seemed to be changing, it was subtle.  She continued to buck into him, though, her pussy was wonderful.  August found he couldn’t stop himself and continued to pump back.  They held one another’s arms and continued fucking.
	August began getting uncomfortable, though.  He was wigging out, so to speak.  Abby seemed to be changing, growing older before his eyes.  He DEFINITELY didn’t like where this was going.  His attention was directed to some noise, from off to one side at the open kitchen, the pot on the stove was boiling over upsetting the lid.  When he looked an arm (AN ARM) was sticking out.
	‘Holy shit!’ “HOLY SHIT!” he cried.  When he looked back to Abigail, she HAD changed, she HAD grown older, she WAS old--very old, a WITCH!
	August began to panic, “Ab-Ab-Abigail!” he shrieked.
	“Oh, don’t worry deary!” gleamed the old hag, she incessantly humped all the harder, holding onto him as well as down.  He wriggled and tried not to fuck back, but his cock was incensed with the bizarre doings and was going for broke.
	August was repulsed by the sheer ugliness of the old bitch, at least, though, her redeeming quality was that she didn’t reek like on old hag.  She DID, though, begin flicking her tongue and leaning down, “Come on, deary”, she chortled, “come give ole Abigail some tongue!” she gnashed her old yellow teeth together and August seriously began freaking out.
	There suddenly was a knock on the door.
	Abigail stopped and sat up, she blinked hard and brushed back wisps of gray old woman hair.  
	“Wh-who is it?” she said using her Young Abigail voice.
	“Lumberjack Dan,” spoke a gruff voice, “I seemed to be lost, can you help me out?”  Abigail was delighted, she winked to the distraught August, “Now you stay right there!” she said, as she moved off of him his over sensitized cock shoot a strand of love juices all over her sopping wet cunny and nude old woman belly.  August was once more appalled.  Abigail cast some sort of “hold” spell on him and went to the door.
	She changed back to the Young Abigail and remained naked.  She opened the door and August could see that it was none other than Big Bad.
	“Holy shit!” he exclaimed Big Bad.
	“Won’t you come in?” said Abigail unphased by Big Bad’s wolf form.

	Big Bad nodded, grinning, chewing on the straw and rubbing himself between the gangly legs that supported him.  Abigail turned her back on him and waltzed into the room.  Big Bad checked August on the bed, he smiled, narrowed his eyes, then leaned for a sniff.  “Hmmmmm,” he said, “I’ve smelt you before.” 
	August said nothing but lay as still as possible, hoping that something what happen to allow him out of the bizarre situation he had gotten himself into.
	Abigail came to the boiling pot on the stove and resettled the lid.  She checked the pot over the open fire; suddenly a spark from the fire leaped out and “bit” Abigail.
	Big Bad was shucking himself out of his clothes, masturbating and checking out the Young Abigail’s naked ass, drooling and nodding his head.
	Abigail shrieked from being burned by the ember, that shriek apparently made her lose concentration of her “magic” and she returned rather quickly to the Old Abigail.
	“ACK!” cried out the wolf.  “Holy shit!” he barked.  Then, “What the fuck!?” he looked on and Abby turned on him, 
	“It’s me, deary,” her titties that had been torpedo-like, sagged like water balloons--as did most of her skin, “whatsa matter, don’t like experienced?”
	Big Bad shook his head and began backing up, “Son-of-a-bitch!” he wailed, “I wouldn’t fuck you with HIS dick!” he remarked indicating August.
	Wrong thing to say.
	Abigail seethed with rage, she mumbled something unintelligible and whipped up a spell faster than a cum squirt.  There was a puff of smoke and August looked to see where Big Bad had been standing now stood a pig.  A hog, rather.  
	August found that he could now sit up, no longer held by the Witch’s Hold spell.  She looked to him, August looked to the hog.  “Shit.” he exclaimed.  “Uh, that other hog,” August said noting the hog he had seen earlier rooting for mushrooms.
	“Aye, a human at one time.”
	“Well,” he said sighing, “you do what you gotta do.” he tried to smile and make light of the situation.  Abigail faced him, looked him up and down, then turned to the stove.  “Go.” she said.
	“Beg pardon.”
	“GO!” she said dramatically.  “Go and never come back.”
	He didn’t understand, but he guessed he had given her such a good fuck she was letting him go.   He scratched the hog’s ears and fled.

				*****
	
	Song of Sorrow, Tragedies, and Alice

	He guessed three days and nights he traveled through the woods, sometimes along a wood path, sometimes along a wood road.  He drank water and pulled up tubers, found an apple tree and gorged himself, wild strawberries, and the like to sustain him.  The “gabs” in his memory were filling, he remembered virtually everything.
	He was still amused by the “storybook” saga in his life, the Witch was something else.  If she would have stayed in the Young Abigail form, why, he wouldn’t have minded--even KNOWING that she was an old hag.
	The wolf, Big Bad--if the three little piggies could have seen what had happened to the old fart bag!  But August assumed that Big Bad had shared the trio with the Three Bears.
	He wondered what other “storybook” adventures he would chance upon, there were many, famous stories, not so, German, Italian, Greek, Japanese, and American--among others.  It could be a hell of an adventure for sure.  And the Device was still off-line.
	He didn’t know why and he began to wonder if maybe the Device that had been implanted into his noggin (some how) now had become “detached”, and in so doing, August had missed it, misplaced it, was unaware and had left it behind somewhere.
	Possibly when he was being shagged relentlessly by the Indians of the Purple Schlong!
	Well, he wasn’t going back after that was for sure!

	Mid morning of the fourth day of his foresty romp he chanced upon a sight to behold.  A young girl.  Just the thing that he needed.  She was pretty, curled up by a log sleeping.  She wore a pale blue dress with frills, lace, and a petticoat, long knee length stockings, black dress shoes.  She was blond, long blond hair, and about ten years young.  She was very pretty.
	August hunkered down among the bushes, carefully eyeing his surroundings, looking for poison oak, hemlock, nettles, any animals, a woodsman with an axe…
	He didn’t know the girl right off, she could fit any storybook story.  He didn’t know that many stories to begin with anyhow.  He marveled at her beauty, even sleeping she was a charm to behold.  Slyly in his mind he undressed her, imagined her in a few “positions” and got serious wood.
	He shook his head to clear it of those visions, being so young, so pretty, so innocent appearing it was doubtful that she WAS out in the woods alone.  
	August scanned intently the area, heard and saw nothing.  He sensed only the trees, er, smelled only the trees.  He himself he “smelled”, too.  The girl rubbed her nose, drew her legs up more into a fetal-like position and continued sleeping.
	August became entranced with her, infatuated.  But he remembered these same feelings when firstly encountering the lovely Abigail.  
	A red tailed hawked squawked and sailed over a small nearby meadow.  A woodpecker pecked wood (what else?) at a nearby pine.  Birds chirped, squirrels squirreled among the branches above him.  All was tranquil, serene.  There was no one about, no one at all.
	August stepped out from the bushes, inching his way to the sleeping girl.  What was she doing here?  He couldn’t see any homes, smelled no smoke from chimneys, heard no sounds of anyone calling for her.  Was she lost?  Abandoned?  “Placed!?”
	Or was she something else entirely?
	More damn questions…
	Gently he reached out and shook her shoulder.  There was little response--so he shook harder.  Suddenly the little girl shot up dramatically, frightened out of her wits.  She had the bluest eyes, the sweetest face…
	Bits of leaves and pine needles clung to her pretty luxurious blond hair.  She was oh so pretty, an angel.  August hunkered before her, still nervous and concerned.
	“W-who are you?” she stammered.  She spoke well, just in those few uncertain words.  She seemed, too, be wildly looking about, mouth open a bit, concerned for herself as well.
	“Uhm, I-I’m August, August Moone.” then, “Who are you?”
	The girl gulped, licked her lips and stared at August, almost staring through him.  Her nostrils flared and she wore no earrings.  She was ohhhh so pretty.	
	“Alice.” she said in a small voice.  “Alice Goodheart.” she stated.  Naturally.
	August swallowed, it could be worse--could be Joan of Arc, some very sleepy princess with a curse on her head, or some such junk!  He felt blessed by the child, despite her off behavior.
	“Are you all right?” August asked out of concern.
	Timidly the young girl reached out her hand touching his face.  She seemed very strange and August noted that she did not seem overly alarmed at his blatant nudity.
	“Uhm, how did you come to be here?” August asked of her, opening his legs a bit and fondling his wares.  The young ohhhh so pretty girl blinked her eyes, flared her nostrils and shrugged, she rubbed her head and August so noted that she had a small bump there.
	“I don’t really remember,” she said, “but I was chasing after a rabbit.”
	“A rabbit?” then, “Uh, a WHITE rabbit?”
	“Yes, yes!” squealed the little girl, “Have you seen it?”  oh brother!

	It came to pass that the child was blind.  She hadn’t always been so, August assumed (and hoped) that it was only temporary due to the knock on the noggin.  He stood her up and proceeded to “check her out” to see if she had anything that needed tending to.  (naturally, ulterior motives prevailing!)
	A lovely creature she was, so young, pretty, and innocent.  She was a bit frightened about her inability to see, but seemed rather calm about it just the same.  August assured her that her blindness would only be temporary, he ran his hands up and down her legs and arms, brushed her cheeks and stood stark naked before her.  
	He took her hand and guided it to his erection.  She was only mildly alarmed, “Do you know what that it?” August chided her.
	“No.” she replied.
	August gulped, this had possibilities unknown!
	He got her to stroke him, saying hardly anything, to cup his balls and all.  If she was the “Alice” he knew, then her perception of “sex” would be nill, she would scarcely have the foresight knowledge of what a boy/guy/man of any age would look like--let alone FEEL.
	“Uhm, it’s a manner in which it might be able to allow you to see.” he lied.  Alice was all ears.  So naïve.  He grinned and looked around to make sure the child was utterly alone; saw no one and thusly he did enter into mayor’s wife of Deadwood had once called--Debauchery!
				*****

	Alice’s young lips came to press against his bone, she asked no questions and August was enthralled.  Gently he pressed his bone to her mouth, pushing it gingerly inward.  Alice reacted as she should, a little frightened for a reason she did not know, concerned, and not overly liking the “taste” of his pre-cum.
	“You want to be able to SEE again, don’t you?” scolded August.
	Alice nodded and once more attempted the oral deed.  August gently pressed his hand behind her pretty little head, pushing her down to fully engulf his member.
	Alive was not overly accommodating, which was perfectly understandable (and tolerable.)  he had her stop when she began retching saying, “We’ll have to try some other methods.”
	He took her by the hand, wheels in his twisted mind spinning out of control--debauchery!

	Debauchery!
	August led the blind lost Alice to a creek in the woods.  He checked the surroundings--again he heard and saw no one (who would be a threat) and bid the girl should undress.
	She hesitated.  She didn’t protest but was all kinds of concerned, if not confused.  “You’re going to get into the creek,” August explained, “it’s possible that the cool waters will have healing properties for you.”
	“Oh.” the girl was very prim and proper and not overly amused about undressing before a stranger.  August had to urge her strongly, he really wished the Device was online, that would help.
	“Hey,” he told her, “uhm, I’ll turn about and not look (fat chance) and when you are ready, step into the water and sit down.”
	There was a moment of hesitation, the little wonder nodded, licked her lips thoughtfully and began undressing.  August sat on a nearby stump and watched her, masturbating gallantly all the way--he loved this part.
	It took just a few minutes but Alice was finally unclothed.  The prim & proper child held her hands before her extreme nudity, but August saw her well enough, “Are you in, yet?” asked called out smiling to her.
	Alice looked into his direction, “Almost.” she replied.  She brushed back her long straight perfect blond hair and tested the water.  She shuddered, it was a bit too cold for her.  “The water is too cold!” she exclaimed.
	August brooded, narrowed his eyes and thought, then…
	“All right, just lay down on the bank, arms to your sides, legs straight out.”
	Compliance.  She was soooooooo naïve!!
	August carefully stepped to her.  Alice was a little emotional, concerned, frightened, and very naked.  She was very (VERY) lovely.  A bald naked perfect untouched poon she had.  Not a hair one was sprouting.  August straddled her.  Alice realized and tried to move, he held her firmly, “Nay, child, I’m going to help you.  You want me to help you, don’t you?”
	The child must have sensed his wrongdoing, she began to freak.
	August being much more powerful than she simply lay on her, his sheer weight holding her fast to the clover laden ground.  He sucked on her nipples, no breasts, just nipples; up and down her body he ran his hands, squeezing the cheeks before gliding his hungry aching cock against her virgin slit.
	Alice seriously began freaking, crying and carrying on.  August held off being overly aggressive to her, with this one he didn’t want to do that.  (not yet anyways.)  He forced her legs open and began poking at her pussy.  Alive bawled and lay in terror, eyes bulging as a “foreign” object violated her person.
	August slid himself into her virginity, inching slowly so as not to put a serious hurt on/in her.  Alice grappled with him, hitting and clawing; then as his manliness sunk in as far as possible and the “fuck” actually began, she gripped the clover and hung on, unable to speak or do anything.
	August concentrated on the act, moving in and out slowly, holding off driving deep and tearing her up.  This wasn’t to be a violent rape, just a gentle I-gotta-fuck-(you) fuck.  

	The thing was male orgasms--one big one and the plummeting afterwards really sinks a guy’s energy.  August empty his load, trying to stretch it as long as possible, pulled out and humped the “gash” and rested partially still on the child and on his side.  Alice recovered, but her sex was damaged, sore.  She was hurt and confused and didn’t know what to do.
	August tried to recover sufficiently to deal with the confused frantic child, she moved from him falling into the creek.  The cold water stunned her and made her more frantic than she already was.
	The water WAS cold, but necessary in cleaning off their sex parts, if not revitalizing them.  Afterwards August held the girl still, across his lap and spanked her.  “You listen to me,” August demanded changing his tone some, “you behave, you be good and do as yer told, be calm and simply deal with what I’m doing.  In the end you’ll be fine, you’ll be alright, you’ll see and everything.”
	“You’re a monster!” she cried out as she languished on his lap.
	‘Ok, so I’m a monster.’ he smacked her bare bottom then proceeded to diddle the equally virginal asshole.

	Alice lay still for quite some time (this after being not so calmly buggered in the ass).  August opened her legs and frowned at the bruising he had caused on her inner thighs.  He didn’t like doing that.  He DID like, though, going down on her young hairless snatch.  Her legs he had to hold as he pinned her down, tongue dancing wildly in/on her young snatch.
	Right at the pivotal point of ecstasy he lay on her and drove his severely aching cock back into her cunny.  Alice thrashed about, arching her back and only partially deriving slight pleasure from the horrid violation.
	August-the Debaucherer assailed the young girl twice more that day, not including another rump hump and a chest hump along with a facial rub.  He spanked the girl into utter submission and then urinated on her chest.  In turn when Alice indicated that she, too, needed to find a “privy” August merely situated her onto his lap and forced her to urinate on his sex.

	Eating raw foods from the ground was not Alice cup of tea.  She spoke of her home and how there was always good foods to eat, milk, tea, or fresh water.  She was a charmer and lived a prim life without strife.  August carried Alice’s clothes and they moved on through the woods.
	When night fell August worried about sleeping, the girl might get her sight back suddenly, might try and thrash him (kill) or simply run off.  Lightly he tied her up, for her own safety as well as his.  He spanked her and held off slapping her, “Now you be good,” he warned, “don’t make me put a hurt on you you’ll never forget.”
	Alice shed a few tears and nodded her ohhhhh so pretty head that she would indeed be good.  It was doubtful, but possible.  August’s cock was in no mood to shag her, they had no fire and the night was rather chilly.  They snuggled to one another and August drifted to sleep.
	Right as rain, come the new morning Alice was gone.  August bitched to himself--this was not a good thing.  He had no idea where she could have gotten to.  He scanned the area wondering how much of a head start she had.
	He found her not far away towards a new meadow in the woods, she had tripped over a log, her hands binded still behind her and her ankles hobbled.  In her haste to escape the Debaucherer she hadn’t spent the time needed to untie herself.
	She was unconscious, exhausted and a new bump on her pretty little head.  August was a little infuriated with her, soooooo, right then and there after seeing that she was alright otherwise, he spanked her and then positioned her la doggie style and doinked her.
	Her cheeks he spread wide and angled his enormously hole hungry cock to her pert backdoor.  Her ohhhhh so pretty face was pushed down onto the clover and he slid every inch of his manhood into her orifice.
	She never awoke until after he was “done” with her.  While she was awake he spanked her and re-doinked her up the butt.

	He was enamored with the young girl; she was a truly unique beauty, ’specially while naked.  They watched  (he watched she listened) as deer come to the meadow and drink, squirrels and chipmunks chase one another; they walked nakedly through the woods, August eventually untying the child and sometimes carrying her on his back, on his shoulders, in his arms.
	Destination?  ’we don’t need no stinkin’ destination!’ when they got tired, they sat and rested, slept, eat and drank their fill.  August learned more of Alice, her family, her home and fine foods.  August in turn shared HIS stories, the Wild West was especially entrancing for Alice; as they traveled, in the morning he would fuck her, then at noon, mid afternoon, evening, and before bedtime.  
	Usually in the morning it was her pussy he plunged into.  In the afternoons he enjoyed shagging her cute bee-hind.  He got her to “suck” him and as well got her to enjoy BEING sucked.  She felt as he spilled/shot his juices onto her face and chest, she sucked his balls but seriously was repulsed when he tried to get her to lick as corn hole.  She may have been blind but her nose worked really well.
	He watched her squat to pee and poop.  There was nothing she could do about that, or anything.  He did get her to laugh, at some of his antics he told of during his misadventures.  
	He taught her to masturbate, to please herself, then filled her confused noggin with the joys of sex; contradicting those things that had been taught to her about modesty and such things.  Why, she had an older sister and had never once seen the girl in the nude, and Alice couldn’t recall the sister seeing her as well in such a state.  Her mother, though, had.  But that was a natural.  No, she had NEVER seen her father unclothed, or any male member of the house.
	At length they came to a cabin.  (yep, another cabin!)  it was rustic and abandoned.  Inside a small family of raccoons had taken up residence, there was a single cot with some blankets, a handmade from the forest table and chairs, a counter, and most of all a fireplace.
	No one had been in the cabin for a LONG time.  The place needed airing out and the blankets a beating.  August thoroughly enjoyed watched young Alice prance about butt bare assed naked.  There was a small creek nearby for water, that evening they had their first fire in days.
	August prepared a stew for them and they feasted well, feeding the raccoons in “payment” for use of the cabin.

	They made the cabin their home and stayed there many days.  Every day August kept to his schedule, doinking Alice upon arising, pussy, mouth, asshole--one of the three before and just after sunrise.  August gathered the food, made a bow & arrow and promptly shot himself in the foot.
	He then proceeded to kill a tree, a bush, another tree and finally speared a trout in the creek--though he was aiming for the 8-point buck down stream.  Using old Indian techniques for skinning and butchering he made a fine mess but filled their bellies just the same.  He wondered casually about impending weather changes--like winter for instance.  He couldn’t tell if they were HIGH in the mountain, or LOW in the valley.  
	A time or two he did worry about other things, could he spend his entire life here?  With Alice?  Well, that part wouldn’t be so bad, but--as he patted her belly while she slept, he came to realize that he could very well possibly knock her up.  That would be bad, ‘specially at her young age.  But even so, later on, as she got a little older--her having a baby by him…
	Despite those pesky woes he wasn’t going to stop doinking her, not on yer life!
	All Good Things Come to an End; Sad But True
	One morning they were both out on a hike, exploring their new world, holding hands, singing, when voices were suddenly heard--not their own.  They hunkered down into the bushes and listened.  The voice, naturally, stopped.  The two moved on and when they came to a large open area with a huge hill on one side, deep-deep woods on the other, across the opening a thousand yards or so movement could be seen.
	Staring, peeing, August detected people, people and horses.  There seemed to be a wagon.  He smelled smoke and heard riotous laughter.  Men!  He wanted no part of them.  
	The following morning he awoke to find his little wonder gone.  
	Looking around the immediate vicinity of their little homestead gave him no solace.  She hadn’t gone hunting, hadn’t gone to fetch water.  Her blindness was slowly going away, day be day she was seeing light, shapes, colors.  It was all still very fuzzy, but still…
	Then, upon hearing some laughter carried by the wind he knew.
	“That little bitch!”  he ran.  He ran hard, stumbling, falling, getting smacked in the noggin by a low slung unseen branch, but he ran, buck naked out into the open area beyond the hill, then darting back into the thicket of the woods.
	He found his little wonder, she had fallen, too, and was at a large fallen pine tree.  He collapsed on top of her and she desperately tried to keep her quite.  The voice of the Men came to be, August peered up over the log and saw four men in Old West garb prowling about in a “hunting” formation.  One man had stopped to piss on a bush, another was standing by a tree just finishing peeing and was now blatantly masturbating.
	“You keep playing with that thing, Jarred, and it’s gonna fall off!” chirped one of the other men.
	August knew better than to play his hand, or to do anything--these men were potentially dangerous.  He kept his hand about Alice’s mouth--but she snaked a hand down between his legs and grabbed his sensitive-to-the-touch naked dangling testicles--and gave them a squeeze.
	August yelled out in discomfort and Alice jumped up and scrambled over the log.
	“Whoa!” What do we have here!”
	August tried to recover as quickly as he could, he didn’t know what to do, though--to run and cover or make a try to recover Alice.
	His indecision cost him--the lead man brought up his pre-old western rifle and fired.  The bullet at such close range tore through August’s shoulder and sent him sprawling.  He tumbled down a small hill and lay at the bottom in a heap.  He heard whoops and hollers from above, one man leaned over the pine log, spit and disappeared.

	The pain in his shoulder was immense.  He couldn’t think, he could barely move.  The only thought on his mind was Alice.  The bitch.  Ants and other assorted bugs were crawling about him, a bee stung his bare ass and two more came to assail him.  With great effort he moved, crawling on his hands knees, more bugs finding their way to him to feast.
	It was near evening fall by the time he reached the pine log.  He could barely see anything let alone hear.  The pain his shoulder was burning, this was NOT good.
	The simple thing to do would have been to go AROUND the great pine, but no, August climbed over--slipped and managed to dislocate his shoulder upon colliding with the ground.  The bark of the tree was, too, unkind to his naked skin.
	Deftly in great pains he moved along searching for sights and/or sounds.  He had to paused several times to get his breath, the pains wracking his body were immeasurable.
	At length, though, he came upon an encampment; three large uncovered wagons where here, there was a picket line where the horses were tethered.  Center was a great blazing fire.  Scattered about were several men, only one August recalled--the one who had shot him.
	The men were all drunk--and naked.
	Center of attraction was two men putting it to ohhhh so pretty Alice Goodheart.  One man behind her while the other in front of her as they lay on their side.  The girl made no noise, no movement whatsoever.  August hunkered down in the bushes and watched--there was nothing that he could do, what COULD he do?
	The man behind pumping finally “got off”, pulled out and slapped the girl’s ass, rolled onto his back and masturbated to the very last bit of enjoyment from the defiling act as possible.  The man pumping Alice’s pussy rolled her over onto her back and plowed relentlessly until he got his nut, too.
	“Hey, better let me have another go,” spoke up one of the other men, “’fore rigor mortis sets in.”  the man fucking pulled out and scooted aside, the man making the comment put his naked schlong to the motionless girl and fucked her for several minutes.
	August noted sadly that she never moved.  She couldn’t.  A huge lump formed in his throat.  “Son-of-a-bitch.” he said aloud.
				There & Back Again, Again

	Ohhhh the agony!  Pain and anguish, sorrow and heartbreak.  He didn’t make it back to the cabin, he couldn’t find it.  After leaving the encampment of the men he fell down the hill once more.  As he faded into dying oblivion he heard a song, an angelic song--a song sung by Alice Goodheart.

	“*You say that life keeps getting harder each day,
each step you take there's some thing blocking your way.
I'd love to help you if there's some thing I could do,
If love would make it better for you.
I've seen the sad look, I've heard you cry,
and counted the tears that fell from your eyes.
You need a shoulder you need a friend,
you're almost at your end.
This world's a cold place, that we both know,
but it's so much colder when you're a lone.
Two hearts are always better than one,
after it's said and done.
You say that life keeps getting harder each day,
each step you take there's some thing blocking your way.
I'd love to help you if there's some thing I could do,
If love would make it better for you.
Try to imagine how it would feel,
living each day in love that was real.
Think how much lighter your load would be,
if it was shared with me.
All of your troubles I think you'd find,
would disappear in these arms of mine.
Come let me hold you near me a while,
Come let me make you smile.
You say that life keeps get ting harder each day,
each step you take there's some thing blocking your way.
I'd love to help you if there's some thing I could do,
If love would make it better for you.
I'd love to help you if there's some thing I could do,
If love would make it better for you.*”

	Haunting words that would last him a lifetime.  Her sweet voice, her sweet persona.  August would never be the same, but he hoped that he could be--but he doubted it.