Things remain icy with Sophie since Flint disciplined her, but fortunately, it's at least less confrontational. She'll find ways to annoy or inconvenience me whenever she can, the unspoken threat of her claws held over me. I don't think she'd do anything so drastic again, but I also don't want another claw to the groin, so I don't press my luck.
I repeatedly find her using that silent threat to block me with her body. Sitting in my spot in front of the fire, loitering in the hall so that I can't pass, taking my clothes and laying on them, she even steals my bed sometimes, just daring me to confront her. I'm not proud of it, but I mostly don't.
The worst, though, is when she gets in the way of getting attention from my humans. Every time I want to get close to Scarlett, Sophie is there. Whenever I think I might get to cuddle up close to her, Sophie pounces her. Each time I think I'll have a chance to get in her lap, Sophie's curling up ther already. She really lays it on thick, too, getting especially handsy with Scarlett, and making a point to look me in the eye while she does.
She even does it with Flint. It's weird, but I get jealous at that, too. I mean, it's not like I'm into him the way she is. It is a little hot when she grinds up against him, but that's just because Sophie is kinda cute, even if she's evil. Clearly I don't want him to bend me over and treat me like he did her that one time. But he's been really good to me, and I feel calm and safe around him. So Sophie monoplizing his attention does bother me.
I do find that I spend more time close to him lately, however, because of Sophie's behavior. Given the choice, she always chooses to hang all over Scarlett, much to my dismay. As much as I'd prefer Scarlett's soft form to lay against, I admit that there is some appeal in relaxing against Flint's large, warm frame. Which is to explain why I've fallen asleep in his lap, on this particular afternoon.
Or, at least I was sleeping, until a peculiar sound wakes me. I can't quite place what it was. Though, concern over this is overridden momentarily by the realization that I've become hard in my sleep, and, in the first few moments after waking, I reflexively rub myself against the firm, but soft surface I'm pressed against... which I quickly come to realize is Flint's thigh. Flushed with embarrassment, I pull away, but he's asleep, and doesn't seem to have noticed.
There it is again. It's hard to describe. Like an almost melodic hum in the distance, off in the woods behind the house. It's kind of high pitched, so I'm not sure if the humans can hear it. If they can, they make no idication that they notice. I go to the back door and peer out, shivering a little at the cold. How did I manage winter before I lived here?
I turn back inside to get my sweater. Scarlett knitted it for me herself, so of course I love it, I just kind of wish she hadn't made it pink. But before I can grab it, I come face to face with Sophie.
"So you heard it too?" she asks, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
I nod, "What is it?"
"Got me, could be anything. Maybe the witch," she says, examing her fingernails.
"There's... not really a witch, is there?" I already know asking her will not be the most reliable source of information.
"Oh, yeah," she nods confidently, "They say she lures boys to her cabin, then..." she makes a hooked gesture with her finger, then sharply pulls her hands to the side, "Cuts their cocks right off. Ingredients in a brew that keeps her young. The younger and less... endowed, the better."
"Th-that's not true!" I nervously declare.
"Believe what you want. I'm not the one carrying her secret ingredient between my legs," she shrugs and walks off.
Sophie's just messing with me. I shake my head and push the thought out of my mind. With my sweater and shoes on, I head back outside and lean on the edge of the deck to listen. It takes a moment, but I finally hear that sound again. Is it closer? Hard to say. I still can't place what it is. But I wouldn't be doing any sort of job guarding the house if I didn't at least check it out.
I hurry down the steps, then run to the treeline behind the house, hearing it intermittently. I am getting closer to it, I think. I find myself slowly wandering out into the woods, ears perked to follow the noise. It gets harder to track as I get out of sight from the house, not because it isn't louder, but because the sound of the nearby stream gets in the way. But they almost seem in the same direction. And then, just before I get to the stream, it stops. I don't mean it doesn't make anymore sounds, I mean it abruptly stops, mid-sounding. Like there was someone making it, and they got interrupted.
Then I see it, or rather, I don't see it. It's hard to describe. In the trees, above my height, it's like there's a blind spot. Not a dark spot or any sort of object obstructing my view, it's like there's a spot where I should see something, but I don't. It's easy to miss, and I don't think I would have caught it if I wasn't looking right where I was. If I look to either side, it's like my peripheral vision of the spot is gone; I can't make out anything in the forest beyond, on that side of my vision. But I also can't quite look directly at it, when I try to, it's like it switches the blind spot to the other side of my periphery. The longer I try to look straight at it, the more I start to get a headache, like with those weird optical illusions in that book on the coffee table at home.
It's so strange, but it's definitely something. And then I start thinking about what Sophie said about the supposed witch. Then about what Flint said about witches only seeing you if they want you to. I know they're just teasing me, but all the same, I start to feel kind of uncomfortable about this, and decide I better get home.
My eyes remain glued to the spot, still trying to make it out, as I turn to leave. Not looking where I'm going, I abruptly slam into something and tumble backwards to the ground. I sit up to see what I wish was another weird blindspot.
"Look who it is," a familiar wolf looms over me, "Long time, no see, Acorn."
Birch, and beside him, his friend Moss. We've met before. Not friends.
"I heard, Acorn, that you decided the forest isn't good enough for you," Birch sneers down at me, as I get up.
"Not just that, I hear he's living with humans, now," Moss jumps in, "He's like one of those little dogs human women like to carry around. Guess that explains the sweater," they both give a round of forced laughter.
I glare defiantly as I brush myself off. Some things about the forest, I don't miss. This isn't a great situation. They're both taller and heavier than I am. Still, all things being relative, it is comforting to know of larger folks. Flint could easily tear both of them apart.
"That true?" Birch asks, "Acorn, the terrier?"
I bare my teeth, "What do you want?"
"Are you deaf? I want you to answer," he pushes me hard enough that I stumble back a little, "Are you a wolf, or some human's terrier?"
"Go away," I try to push past Birch to go home, but he grabs me by the arm and pulls me back.