We wolves, and a lot of other animals, are accused of sleeping a lot. In truth, we sleep more than humans but don't find ourselves incapacitated and vulnerable in a deep sleep as often as they do. At least that's what I've understood.
But it's entirely possible that my proximity to humans has changed this because I keep finding myself being uncomfortably pulled out of a deep sleep very suddenly. It's usually by the normal annoying things, like cats or alarm clocks.
This time, it's a gunshot. I'm suddenly torn from a dream where I have a sore asshole, but is otherwise pleasant, into the waking world by the sound of a terrifying boom in the distance.
I bolt up, the haze of sleep slowly drifting away. Three things are clear. I'm in Scarlett's bed, the sore asshole thing wasn't from the dream, and I'm fairly certain that the gunshot came from the backyard.
I leap from the bed and clamor down the stairs, nearly falling in the process. Catching myself, I spin myself off the edge of the banister into another near tumble into the living room. I find an equally concerned Scarlett and Sophie running out the back door onto the deck.
I join them just in time to see Flint emerging from the treeline, resting his shotgun on his shoulder. I let out a breath that I didn't realize I was holding, and take another in relief as I see that all my people are safe and sound.
"What is going on?! What happened?!" Scarlett exclaims, louder than I've heard her speak, as Flint comes close enough to talk.
He waves his free hand up casually as if to dismiss her panic away, "It's alright! We're fine! Nothing to get all excited over."
"But apparently worth shooting at?" she asks, clearly her panic not entirely dismissed.
"No monsters, no witches, no supernatural spooky stuff," he says, climbing the stairs on the deck, "Just some two-legged varmints."
"Two-legged?" Scarlett tilts her head.
"Yeah. I think it might have been the same two..." he pauses and glances at me before returning his gaze to Scarlett, "um, same two I've seen in the woods before. Wolf-folk who aren't as kind and charming as present company."
Scarlett reaches over and pats my head, "See puppy? Nothing we need to get worked up over."
She says that, not knowing the significance of what Flint just said. I admit, my butt puckers a little with his words. I don't like the idea of guys like Moss and Birch being in my yard.
"I only heard the one shot," Sophie points out.
"Just warning them, off, mostly," Flint says, "Hit the trees and they scattered. Not spending all day chasing them. Put a little fear of god in them and they should know where not to wander."
As everyone starts walking back into the house, I grab Flint's hand from behind. He looks forward to see that Scarlett and Sophie are far enough before turning back to me.
"Yes, I think it was them," he softly tells me, like he read my mind, "Didn't get a real close look, but they were wolves that matched them close, so I'd assume."
My ears go flat at the confirmation and I whimper.
"Hey, nothing to be afraid of," he holds up his shotgun with the other hand, "Plenty more shells where that one came from. And even if there weren't, I don't know that they're much of a threat. They looked even scrawnier than last time. Kinda sickly, almost."
"If you say so," I follow him as he walks back into the house. I don't let go of his hand, and he doesn't seem to mind.
"You know, it's a little funny that you're so upset at the idea of them trying to get in your ass, when I just walked in on Scarlett doing exactly that," he teases.
"...I don't think that's very funny, Flint," I say, unamused.
"Eh, it's a little funny," he chuckles.
"Okay, so is everyone calm and comfortable now?" Scarlett asks as we close the door, "Except for our neighbors who probably heard the gunshot. No shadow monsters that don't cast shadows, no witches or spooks. Just some miscreants, and they're gone."
"Our closest neighbors are a mile and a half away, at least, I think we're fine," Flint dismisses that concern as he unloads the gun and sets it back up on the wall.
"Point is, our dear pets will not be pests?" she places hands on both mine and Sophie's heads.
We both sigh and nod in agreement. Then Sophie immediately contradicts that.
"Okay, but can we talk about how you popped Acorn's behymen without us?" she complains.
"I'm sorry... beh-what?" I ask.
"Behymen. Like a hymen, but for your behind," Sophie explains, "Your ass-cherry."
"That's... that's not a thing!" I exclaim. At least I think it isn't.
"Sure it is!" she argues, "I mean, it's not physically a thing, no."
"That would make it not a thing, would it not?" I cross my arms.
"You're missing the point. The point is we missed it," she says that as if by saying it, she has actually made a point.
"That doesn't even make sense, it wasn't the first time anyways," I remind her.
"Oh, that doesn't count! She didn't even get all the way in. I'm talking proper, balls deep fucking, here," she throws her hands forward, vertically, for emphasis.
"What -balls-?!" I demand. The strapon doesn't even have fake ones.
"Figurative again, please keep up," she sighs and waves a hand at me, "Why am I even arguing with you about it?"
Sophie turns to Scarlett, who has her face buried in her hand in a restrained fit of giggles. Not sure what everyone finds so funny about my ass being penetrated.
"Sophie!" Scarlett pulls her hand down and looks up, stifling her laughter, "You promised not to be a pest."
"But Mistress!" Sophie whines.
