If she did it really well, they would all leave.

Hehe, sure seems like it.

Then she could be alone for a while, alone with her dogs.  Nobody would be able to nag her about the fact that she hadn’t given the henchman thing a try.  Fuck it.

Gotta admit, I like the line of thinking here.

She already had all of the assistance she needed.  The best, most loyal kind.

The doggo kind.

Lucy appeared from a nearby street, making her excitement known with a noise that was half bark and half something else.

She ran alongside Bentley.

Yo, Lucy!

Hang on, I’m going to go tell a friend named Lucy that she just showed up in Worm.

If they didn’t complain by the time they were through checking and taking care of all of her dogs, maybe they would start when the next batch arrived from the shelters, and they were told they had to do all of those dogs on top of starting afresh with all the ones they had done before.

Mwahaha.

The moment someone did complain?  Or if they let one tick, one rash or one ear infection slip?  She could make an example of them.  Humiliate them, scare them, insult them.

Ahh, so that’s what she’s waiting for. The chance to put the fear of dog into them.

Specifically the dog named Rachel “Bitch” Lindt.

If she did it well enough, they’d leave.

…well, at least they’d still act as an example for the rest.

So does Rachel just want an excuse to get rid of the humans so she can do things on her own?

Barker or Biter would be the ones to whine about the task first.

Subordinates, got it.

Well, at least Barker’s bark is probably worse than his bite.

They had powers.  They had expected to be in charge, to be her lieutenants.

Except that role went to dogs, didn’t it.

The looks on their faces when she’d given them their tasks had made her day.

Hehe, at least she’s enjoying herself.

Nothing like putting someone in their place.

Yeah.

It wasn’t that she wouldn’t take care of herself.  She would, just like she took care of her dogs.  Just as she groomed each of them twice a week or more, she would tend to herself.

Just not in the ways, or with the frequency, expected from a human being?

But what did some scruff on her legs matter when she was treading down flooded streets or caked in mud up to her knees half the time anyways?

…fair point.

What did some body odor mean, if she didn’t even like the people who were around to be offended by it?

Hehe. I can’t argue.

Barker, Biter and the others would be at the locations she had assigned them.  She had given them the most menial of tasks.  Grooming the dogs, feeding the dogs, picking up shit, checking the dogs for sores, cuts, ear infections and ticks like she’d showed them.

I’m sure they’re loving that.

She had a good number of dogs in her care, now.  Most had been taken from kennels that hadn’t been in a state to help the animals since Leviathan attacked.

Oh yeah, I’m sure there are a lot of those now.

She was eagerly anticipating the moment someone complained.

You mean out of your subordinates, or out of the people at the kennels?

His enthusiasm was infectious.  She bared her teeth in a wide grin, then whooped, adding her voice to the cacophony.

Niice.

She hopped up his side, gripping ridges of hard muscle and bony growths so she could throw one leg over his other shoulder.  A spike of bone scratched her upper thigh, beneath her skirt, but she didn’t care.  It was nothing.

Ow.

Also, I never really pictured Rachel as the type to wear skirts for some reason. Fair enough.

“Go, Bentley!” She urged him.  He surged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

So what are we doing? Claiming territory? Chasing Fenrir’s Chosen out of it?

I don’t remember if it’s been stated yet, but I have no doubt Rachel will be dealing with Fenrir’s Chosen like Taylor had to deal with the Merchants. Hookwolf is just too perfect as a rival to Rachel for that not to be the case.

It’s still a possibility that we’re getting Interludes for every Fellowship member but Jack Slash, but I doubt that.

Also, I guess those were the hellhounds howling? They’re certainly bigger than your average dog.

A howl tore through the air.

AWOOOOOOO

Are we dealing with Hookwolf?

It wasn’t the howl one would expect from a dog.  It was ragged, with a guttural undertone that hinted at the size of the one doing the howling.

Like someone a bit bigger than a dog… like a wolf?

Before the howl had even finished, more took up the cry in answer.  A second howl, then a third.  More joining in, all at once.  Seven or eight.

Hm. Did Hookwolf instruct his subordinates to do this sort of thing along with him, or are we dealing with actual wolves here?

Bentley raised his head and joined them, his tail wagging on his undersized hindquarters, almost prancing on the spot in his excitement.

!

Is this. A Rachel. Lindt. Inter–

…Lindterlude?

I mean, my first though was another doggo Interlude, but it’s not written like one, so the next most reasonable assumption is that this is the perspective of someone who’d be paying attention to Bentley.

Water splashed around paws as wide around as bike tires as he landed, spraying Bitch.

Hiya!

Yeah, it seems this is, in fact, a Lindterlude! Nice.