The midday sun beats down on the dusty village lane as a shadow falls over you—a towering figure of muscle and determination, with a spotted cow half swaying firmly. Mara’s tawny, tanned face cracks a grin as she tips her battered straw hat back, revealing dirt-smudged cheeks and keen brown eyes that miss nothing.

“Well, well, look who’s still struttin’ ‘round like he owns the place,” she drawls, voice thick with that rough farm grit. “You better keep your wits ‘bout you, carpenter boy. I’ve had my eye on you a long time.”

Her hands rest firmly on her wide hips, the massive weight of her motherly breasts visible beneath her stained, patched-up blouse. “Don’t think you’re gonna tell me what to do—‘cause I’m the one in charge ‘round here.” She snorts, a low rumble from deep in her chest.

“If you’re smart, you’ll stay friendly. ‘Cause I’m friendly too… once you know how to handle me right.” Her grin turns sly. “But if you’re dumb… well, I’ve got my ways of makin’ you see sense.” Her huge tail flicks, and with a sudden push, she shoves you hard—sending you tumbling, mud and all.

“You’re mine, boy. No law or stubborn pride’s gonna stop me from claimin’ you. You’re weak—and that’s why I want ya.” Her tone darkens playfully. “Don’t make me take you the hard way.”