The fighting was nerve wracking, conjuring up very vivid memories of Bitch’s dogs terrorizing me.  Why did this spook me so much when being around her dogs in monster form didn’t make me that nervous?

Maybe because the dogs weren’t in monster form when she attacked you, and you’ve been around them in monster form a lot recently. Maybe it feels like the hellhounds are more under control (which they aren’t).

Shutting my eyes, I drew on my power.  My objective wasn’t to do anything with it, but simply to get a little outside my own head, achieve a greater perspective.

Sure, that might be helpful.

Focusing on the big picture, seeing myself as a very small figure against the backdrop of a whole neighborhood, I was able to center myself.  I could ignore the hairy animals shoving up against my legs, jumping up at and around me, pressing their cold noses against my hands and arms.

Some people dislike seeing themselves as an ultimately insignificant entity in a greater whole. Taylor, on the other hand, seems to draw comfort from that.

I think I can relate, to be honest.

A mass of bugs in my immediate vicinity lunged between my legs.  My eyes snapped open, and I saw the culprit, placed my hands on him, the dark furred lab.

“hi!”

It wasn’t fleas, either, or ticks or anything like that.  It was a denser mass.  The closest parallel I could draw would be a wasp nest.  Or maggots in a trash bag.

Oh, geez. Maybe he’s acting up in part because of this?

Bitch headed to a wood pallet stacked with bags of dog food, which rested atop a pallet of bricks.  She drew a knife across the top of two bags and let them empty into a trough sitting below.  I was grateful when most of the dogs around me rushed off to get their food.

Hehe. Go get your food, doggos ❤

The reprieve didn’t last long.  Several of the dogs began fighting in front of the trough.

Uh oh.

A black lab, snarling with his expression pulled into something grotesque, chased a smaller dog directly toward me.  The little dog collided with my legs, and with the lab hot on her heels, it started fighting tooth and nail in its own defense.  A bigger dog, longer and lankier than the lab, with very short fur, crossed the room to join the skirmish, protecting the little one.

Welp. So Rachel, are you going to do something about this, or do you consider this the natural order of the pack?

“Bitch?”  I asked, doing my best to keep my voice calm as the dogs fought beneath me, bumping into my legs.  I backed up, but they brought the fight right to me once again.

“The black one is Sirius.  He’s the newest, not used to things.  He’ll get better as the other dogs socialize him and I get a chance to train him.”

Does he turn into a human wizard sometimes?

Okay, but seriously – no pun intended – a black dog named Sirius does not strike me as a coincidence. (Sirius Black’s animagus form was definitely not a labrador, though. Apparently Padfoot was played by a German sheperd in PoA and a Scottish deerhound in OotP.)

Anyway, it seems Rachel is content with letting this go on for now.

“They’re, uh, really going at it,” I winced and pulled one leg off the ground to keep it out of the way.

“Let me know if he draws blood.”

Fair enough, I guess.

I couldn’t afford to appear weak in front of Bitch, so I avoided asking for help.

Yeah, that’s fair. Appearing weak might not get the best of reactions.

Cement was laid out over nearly half of the building interior, as the floor or foundation, but the work had been interrupted and abandoned partway through.  There were areas where crushed stone had been laid out in preparation for the cement pour, and a combination of wind and rain had mixed regular dirt into the crushed stone a long time ago.  Any spot inside the building that wasn’t covered in concrete was marked by patches of grass and a few scraggy weeds.

There’s one thing there’s no doubt about, even if it hasn’t really been specified: We’re still very much in the Docks.

Three walls of the ground floor were erect, plywood and drywall bolted to wood frames, with cement blocks piled against most of the exterior walls.  Enough had been done at the front of the building for the construction workers to have started laying out a second floor, providing an overhang between the ground floor and the sky to keep things more or less dry.

I wonder why construction stopped.

Things were too much of a mess for me to tell if the far exterior wall had been left incomplete or if had fallen down.  It stood open to the environment, letting rays of dusty sunlight inside.

Not really the best place to keep dogs, but I guess Rachel just has to make do with what she’s got access to.

Y’know, unless she changes her mind about Coil.

We approached the building that all the barking was coming from.  The rusted skeleton of a small crane stood atop a partially constructed building.  Bitch opened the door and waited until I was inside before closing it and latching it shut.  I could hear scratching at the door just past the first room.

E8ÅD

…that dog smiley is getting out of hand.

When the second door leading further into the building was opened, a tide of dogs nearly bowled us over.

AWOONAMI

I couldn’t count them, but there were more than ten, less than twenty.  All sorts of breeds, different sizes and shapes.

Look at that huge hexagonal prism dog!

As Bitch moved forward as though the dogs weren’t there, I struggled to even stand.

Turns out Rachel can swim through dogs like Scrooge McDuck through money.

I leaned against the front door for balance, and all I could think about was that moment Bitch had set her dogs on me, back when we first met.

Well, if she wanted to get back at Taylor for winning that fight, now would be an excellent opportunity. Though I have a feeling these dogs aren’t as thoroughly trained as the usual trio, she could probably still sic many of them on her.

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)