Chapter 4

Time passed. Maybe an hour.

Laura stirred, almost awakened. She dreamed of the circus. She dreamed of talking goats. She dreamed of boys.

Exhausted from its prize, the goat disconnected from the young girl and staggered away. It nearly fell off its feet. After a time it sniffed the girl's dangling head, nipped lightly at her cheek, decided the sow was asleep. It sat down, regarding its deflated penis. It licked itself, savoring the foreign, oh-so-rich taste.

Something had happened, something incredible. Something dangerous. Its goat's mind understood this, understood the sudden and powerful presence was now gone - watching from afar, more the truth - but leaving him back in control of his own behavior. He was afraid.

His name was Gramp's, the name given him by the farmer when the goat turned two. Even then he was bigger than the other males, combative and bellicose; very soon he took over the herd. Now twelve years old, the oldest and still the meanest goat around, Gramps never before had experienced a human sow. Not like this.

She was one of the feeder class, omnipresent, troublesome, never before seen in sexual terms. The juice of this female - Gramps sensed the sex of all species on the mountain - was definitely the best he ever had. In fact, had the need to rut not come over him so overwhelmingly, even now he would be lapping her pouch. His tongue ached with her taste. Actually, it just ached.

Gramps goat-sighed, struggled to his feet, and took stock of things. The sow was filled with seed, and no goat stomached his own seed. He looked around at the scattered herd - his two male contenders eyed him warily back - and wondered if sticking around was safe. Previous experience told him no. Planted seed took days to absorb, and how fast it would go with a feeder he didn't know. Besides, planting seed in a feeder sow might be a thoroughly bad idea. Females were unpredictable. And sooner or later a male would turn up in search. Worse, the presence might reestablish itself, might again take control, and decide this sow needed more.

Better not to stick around.

Gathering up scraps of the sow's panties, Gramps wandered into the bushes, chewing the tasty material with fond remembrance. As it left, the presence withdrew from the goat's mind completely, returned to its own, and those memories faded quickly, leaving the goat's mind like droplets of water down a drain. Soon it remembered nothing: Of the encounter, or of the presence. Gramp's disappeared from sight and the others with it.

Eyes watchful, body unnaturally still, the presence observed the departing herd from its bulwark in the opposite trees. None of the goats paid him heed; indeed, they seemed unaware of his presence. Eventually the woods became still.

For some minutes nothing happened, then, stepping into the clearing, the dog that wasn't a dog crossed the ten yards to Laura's open legs, inclined its head and sniffed. It snorted, licked her once, the scraped the ground with its paw. It sat down to wait.