"So you're really for real Scarlett's grandma?" I ask as we walk over the small hill, opposite the stones.
"Yes, for real," the supposed granny tells me.
"Really for real, for real?" I try to make sure I have complete confirmation.
"Yes, yes! The hell would I lie about being someone's grandmother?" she looks at me and shakes her head.
"I've just had some encounters with people being unreliable about these things lately," I don't feel compelled to go into more detail than that.
We crest the hill and come in full view of a small, comfy looking house with a well maintained garden. I'm a little embarrassed to realize exactly how close I was to it when I decided to give up and just sleep in the dirt.
Passing through the small gate in front of the house, I see what appears to be a narrow country road curving near the house. This might explain what I thought were intermittent water noises. I'm surprised to see it. Somehow I imagined Scarlett's grandmother living deep in the woods, in a cabin that's sort of lost in time, without modern conveniences. The road catches me off-guard, as do the electric lights she turns on when we step into the side door of the house.
Realizing I've been traipsing through all manner of dirt and mud tonight, I stop on the mat in front of the door and make sure to thoroughly wipe my bare feet. This, for some reason, results in a snort and a chuckle from new-granny (or rather real-granny I guess). I give her a questioning look.
"That girl's got you all house-trained, ain't she?" the old woman says, sitting down at the kitchen table, "A wolf wiping his feet. When you think you've seen everything."
"Would you prefer I track mud in?" I ask.
"No, no, wipe away," she waves a hand, "Good behavior is good behavior, but it's just a mite strange seeing it from a wild animal. She teach you any tricks, too?"
"Um..." my mind immediately goes to the things Scarlett has 'taught' me and none of it is for polite conversation. I avert my eyes and try to stifle a blush.
This gets another round of chuckling from granny. Not unkind, mocking laughter... well a little mocking, maybe, but it's jovial and friendly. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small pair of glasses, which she snaps open and puts on.
"I'll be she did. Now that I see you in full view with my eyes on, I think I see exactly what she likes about you," she shakes her head with a grin, "That girl is a weird fucking pervert. Always has been, she thinks folks around her can't tell."
Suddenly aware of being observed in my full nudity, as I am, I quickly cover my crotch and stare at the ground. I do not stifle the blush this time.
"Oh, nothing I ain't seen before, pup," she dismisses my action with a wave of her hand, "A wolf with house manners might be new, but a regular old cock isn't. Now come in and close the door before you let all the heat out."
I lightly step inside and pull the door behind me. Granny gets up and goes to the nearby coatrack, taking off an old longcoat and tossing it to me, before easing back into her chair.
"Here, if you're feeling so shy about it," she says.
It's old and a bit musty and smells like tobacco, but it's clothing, so I eagerly put it on. My shoulders relax and I sigh, feeling relieved to be covered after wandering through the cold for what seems like such a long time. Starting to feel less like everything is a panic ridden disaster, I join granny, sitting down in the next chair over from her at the little round table.
"Looks like you been put through the ringer tonight," she reaches to a covered dish in the center of the table and pulls it closer to us, "Reckon you could use something in your stomach."
She lifts the lid to reveal a plate of cookies that, if I'm not mistaken from the scent, seem to be fairly freshly baked. My eyes widen and rapidly dart between the plate and her and back again.
"Go ahead, have all you like. Just don't make yourself sick," she reassures me.
I dive in with both hands and shovel one into my mouth, then starting with the second before the first. I sigh at the sweet taste and the comfort it brings after my long night.
"So," Granny reaches into her pocket and produces an old pipe, which she begins to slowly load, "I take it, coming from where you were coming from, that you didn't exactly mean to be there. But there you were, so how exactly did you end up in whatever nasty situation you were in?"
She sparks an old lighter and ignites her pipe, filling the room with vanilla scented tobacco. Just like Sophie described. I'm not really used to smoking, and it seems like my nose should detest it, but somehow the scent puts me at ease.
I finish chewing as the events of the night run through my head. It all seems so outlandish and strange now. Yet, if anyone's going to believe me, I get the feeling it's going to be Granny here.
"That's a thousand yard stare if I ever seen one," she comments, taking a puff and blowing a plume of smoke from the side of her mouth a moment later, "That bad?"
"No... well, yes..." I say, my stare continuing for a long moment before my eyes snap to her. Not so bad that that I can't talk about it, but I wish I could just pretend it's all a bad dream.
I hesitate at where to start and what to include before I launch into a retelling of the night's events. I start with when I woke up, obviously leaving out the part about Flint fucking me and all other sexual activities. Granny still looks at me like I'm leaving out something, but it isn't important to explain what happened.
As crazy as the hallway story is, sounding like something I dreamt up - and given the similarities between the hallway and walking through the woods, I can't rule that out - Granny doesn't show any sign of thinking it's the madness that it sounds like. Nor does she appear surprised, almost like it's a kind of tale she's heard before. I can't decide if that's comforting or alarming.
It's when I get to the part about the witch's house that I stop. At first I think I'm just uncomfortable with discussing it. I mean, I am, of course. But I take a breath, collect my thoughts, and open my mouth to speak, only for nothing to come out again. It takes a few tries for it to properly sink in that this isn't something I'm doing. It's like there's some sort of block, some intangible force keeping me from speaking it. I can recall the events just fine, I can plan what I mean to say in my head, but my voice doesn't come. My throat won't speak it.
Granny must recognize my widening eyes and worried look because she scoots her chair closer and leans in. She puts her thumb and index finger above and below one of my eyes, spreading it wider than it already is, and carefully examines it, then repeats it with the other. She then takes my chin in her fingers and tilts my head to one side, then the other, examining me for... something.
"Hmm... yep, some profound fuckery going on, my boy," she says with a serious nod.
"Profound... I'm sorry, what?" I ask as she releases my chin and sinks back in her chair.
"You are doused with sorcery, pup. Someone has put a spell on you," she tries to puff on her pipe to no avail, and relights it.
"What kind of spell?" I nervously ask.
