She glanced my way, and a shadow of irritation touched her expression.

Ah, yes, there we go.

“Oh right. She’s here.”

I was intruding on her domain, spoiling that.  If I slipped up and pissed her off, I’d be lucky to get hit just once.

A deal’s a deal, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance she’ll go “fuck what Brian said” if sufficiently pissed off.

I knew we were close to our destination when I heard the barking.  Angelica yapped back in reply, cranked herself up to ‘excited frenzy’ mode and rushed forward, pulling on the leash.  Bitch stopped her, directed her to lie down with a motion of her finger, and we waited.  When Angelica relaxed and put her chin on the ground, we moved forward again.

Ah, yes, there’s the leash-pulling. :Å)

We didn’t get three steps before Angelica pulled again, provoking the repetition of orders and another minute long wait.

I think I see what the goal here is. By stopping every time she pulls on the leash, eventually she’ll learn that pulling doesn’t get them to the destination faster.

The third time it happened, Bitch gave me a dark look.  As though it were my fault, or more probable, she might have been anticipating impatience on my part.  I didn’t really mind, though.  It wasn’t like I had anywhere to be, and it was interesting to see her process.

Hehe.

Third, less likely option: “do you see this shit?”

Bitch led the way as we traced a winding path through the Docks.  Her dogs trotted at her side, occasionally stopping to sniff, but never rushing ahead or lagging so far behind that they pulled on the leash.

Even Angelica is behaving. 🙂

Glancing at her, I could see how she was more at ease, like this.   When she was walking with the dogs at her side, I could see that the lines of her face were softer, there was less tension in her body.  She wasn’t quite so guarded.

Maybe she, to some extent, has managed to forget that Taylor is tagging along. But yes, I think Brutus and the other dogs aren’t the only ones here who enjoy walkies.

I’d sort of assumed that her days of being homeless and fending for herself were the bad days, to her.  That it was a step up, being with us.

They certainly sound bad, to readers who are used to the highly social society we’re part of. Maybe it was different for Rachel, though. Even discounting what her power did to her brain, people are very different, perhaps especially when they’ve grown up under such different conditions.

I was beginning to reconsider whether that was entirely true, seeing her stride down the streets and alleys with her dogs beside her.  Here, she didn’t have to worry about dealing with people and the social maneuverings she could no longer grasp.  This was what she was used to.

Only her and her dogs. :Å)