My arm, the one with the bruise from the... thing, keeps threatening to be completely better. However, it continually persists in nagging me, just a little. The bruise itself is almost gone, and I'm past the point of it being painful to bump against things, but the general soreness just lingers.
It's more unusual than that, though. It gets this odd feeling of pressure that I've never experienced with any sort of bruise or abrasion. Even with most of the bruise no longer present, I can still feel the shape of that hand that left it when it gets like this. It doesn't hurt exactly, it's just enough to remind me it's there. I've found no rhyme or reason for why it happens or when.
Having not used the cream granny gave me in several days, I consider it again. It didn't seem to do much, but I suppose it's worth another shot.
I wait until everyone's occupied or out of the house. More or less. I consider Sophie napping to be 'occupied'. I go to where I left it in the downstairs bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind me.
I open the cabinet to the vanity and open the lower drawer beside it, letting me reach in to grab the jar I'd cleverly stashed under the drawer. I panic for a moment when I don't find it but discover it's been dragged along by the drawer that's sitting funny on its tracks.
Setting the jar aside, I push the drawer in, to find it doesn't quite close. I try it again. And then a few more times. Each time it refuses to slide in completely, leaving itself sticking a few inches out. I pull it out and give it a strong shove, but the only thing that changes is that it's now stuck in that position, jutting out, and I can't even pull it back anymore.
I sigh angrily and hang my head. I'm sure Flint can fix this, but obviously, I can't leave the jar in there, now. He'd surely find it while getting the drawer back in place.
I accept it can't be helped and proceed with opening the jar and diving my fingers in. Fortunately for me, my wolf nose gets a whiff before I ever touch it to my arm. I bring the jar to my nose and recoil. It must have gone bad because it stinks something awful. If granny meant for this to be refrigerated, she didn't mention it.
I quickly wash off my hands with an excess of soap, to get the rancid smell off of my fingers. As I dry them off, something occurs to me, and I take the jar again. I take a tiny sniff, certain not to fill my lungs with that again, but enough to confirm its familiarity. It reminds me of when I bit the creature. I couldn't smell it at all, but when I sunk my teeth in, it struck me with that foul taste like rotted eggs and other horrible things I can't quite describe. While I'm certainly not going to taste this stuff, the smell of this and the taste of that thing seem oddly similar.
Does that mean something? Flint told me once that humans use snake venom to make cures for snake bites. Maybe it's like that, you need something from the monster to help? Or maybe I'm overthinking it. It could be a coincidence. How many different rotten smells can there be?
Whatever the reason, I'm certainly not putting it on my skin anymore. I go to toss it in the garbage but think better of it. If I throw it out in the house, I risk Flint or Scarlett seeing it when they take out the trash and asking questions. And now that I've opened it like this, the stink sort of hangs on the outside of the jar. I can never tell if a human nose is strong enough to catch something or not. They don't smell much, but sometimes they surprise you.
Thinking to play itself, I decide to deposit in the outside trash can, the ones the trucks take away. Flint said he wanted us to stay inside, but it's not like I'm going far. Just to the side of the house, so I'll still be inside the stone circle. That shouldn't be a problem.
After I quickly check the driveway to see that Scarlett and Flint are still out, I sneak around to toss the jar. I get halfway to the trashcan and immediately feel that this was a mistake. Not just because it's a lot colder out here than I anticipated, and I'm wearing shorts, either. There's this uncomfortable feeling, the moment I step outside, that I'm being watched. My eyes trace through the trees and I rapidly sniff at the wind but see no sign of anything out of the usual. Still, the feeling remains.
I hurry to the trashcan and toss it in, reaching in to pull up on one of the bags inside, making sure the jar falls to the bottom, safely out of sight. The deed done, I turn around and my heart jumps as if I was coming face to face with someone, but there's nothing there. That one might have just been my nerves, but all the same, I don't feel safe out here. I hurry back to the house and close the door, locking it behind me.
I instantly feel relieved at being safe, no longer feeling like something's watching me. That's quickly followed by embarrassment that I, a wolf, felt afraid of something in the woods. The fear I felt also seems to slip away, like waking up from a dream; it seems abstract and silly that I felt that way. That being said, I do double-check on the lock.
"I thought we weren't supposed to go outside?" Sophie asks from out of nowhere.
I jump and spin around, pressing my back to the door, "Don't. Do. That."
She sits up and stretches on the couch, "Sorry. Cat habit. You're a little high strung. Scarlett didn't completely destroy your balls, did she?"
"Oh. You've got jokes," I cross my arms.
"It wasn't that bad," she dismisses things she has no room to dismiss, "Besides, totally worth it."
"How was it worth it?" I demand.
"Well, I got to get eaten out, and you got the honor of doing so. Win-win, really," she gets up and walks over, "Not a bad job either, by the way."
"Except for the part where we got punished," I point out the obvious.
"Yeah, but it was a little slap on the wrist. Or between the legs. You know what I mean," she pats on the head, "And getting slapped on the pussy when you're all worked up can feel kind of good, in its own way."
I just stare her down.
"I assume getting slapped in the balls is basically the same thing," she makes the bold conclusion.
"I don't believe it is," I narrow my eyes.
"Ah, well, how am I supposed to know. Live and learn, you know?" she shrugs, pushing off all responsibility, "Now just what were you doing outside?"
She presses the sides of her hands to the window and leans her face against them like she's looking through binoculars. I sigh and drop my arms. It's hard to stay angry at her when I know how fruitless it will be to make her feel the slightest bit of guilt about it.
Not having a good excuse, I decide to gamble on using limited truth, "I was just throwing something out."
"In the outside garbage can?" she drops her hands and cranes her neck back to face me, "Why wouldn't you just throw it in the garbage inside. Seems like, you'd only do that if you had something to hide."
I maintain a stone face expression, telling her nothing. If she thinks there's nothing interesting here, and doesn't get a response from teasing me, she'll get bored and give up.
"Fine, don't tell me. It's not like I can't go check for myself," she smirks and unlocks the door, pulling it open.
I feel a pit in my stomach immediately, the feeling from outside coming rushing back. I panic and grab her hand, not considering how trying to stop her will only make her more curious. I'm just worried about anyone being outside right now.
"Wait! Sophie, no!" I lean back, putting my weight into pulling her arm.
She's already most of the way outside, though, and my grip isn't showing much of a chance of slowing her down. She eventually stops on her own, however, and looks back at me.
"What's got into you?" she laughs, "Nothing you've got in there can be that bad..."
She trails off and her ears perk up. Her pupils widen as she scans the woods. I can see the goosebumps rising on her arm, to match my own.
