ELLIOT

If there's one thing I've learned in the past few minutes, it's the true meaning of "eating mud."

I'm a mud-eater—there’s no other way to describe me right now, rolling around, wrestling a pig in the middle of this filth.

"Stay still, damn it!" I lunged onto its back, but my hands kept slipping, mud splattered everywhere, and its plump body writhed beneath my grip.

I could only imagine the spectacle I was making of myself. I wrapped my legs tightly around its sides, trying to grab its ears and pull its head back.

"Uiiik, uiiik!"

The pig started squealing, and there I was, bouncing on top of it, clutching its ears, riding it around the corral like some damn rodeo cowboy.

What the hell had they been feeding these beasts to make them so strong?!

The noise was deafening, laughter echoed from all sides, and I clung to the pig’s thick neck, trying to get it under control.

What a damn embarrassment. At the very least, after all this, I deserved a good lick from the Duchess.

I finally