Lucy and Sirius wanted to follow, so it thankfully didn’t take much effort to get them moving. Bitch wasn’t riding as fast as she could, so it was clear enough that she wasn’t trying to escape. She wanted space, and she was angry.
That’s fair. I don’t get angry easily, but when I do, my first instinct is usually to get away from it and cool down.
It’s certainly somewhat healthier than some of Bitch’s previous anger responses, at least.
I glanced over my shoulder at Grue. How the hell were we supposed to handle this situation?
Maybe you should’ve given that a little more thought before you started it.
Unless by “this situation” you mean the broader “Bitch is bottling up something, keeps quiet and gets mad if you ask her what’s up”.
My phone vibrated at my back, and in my effort to avoid falling off Lucy, I wasn’t able to get at it. I fought to make her obey me and stop by pulling on the chains and wrenching her right, then left.
I was a little confused until I remembered the satellite phones.
Don’t talk and ride hellhounds!
…
I was joking, but that really does seem like something Taylor would be concerned about, what with her mom. Though I doubt the accident that took Annette Rose Hebert’s life involved her riding a hellhound.
She finally halted, and I took the opportunity to grab my phone. I’d missed my window.
Better that than running your hellhound into a tree or oncoming traffic.
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