The growl is out before Brigid even realizes she's thinking about it. Her claws dig deep into the ground, holding her in place. She will not challenge St. Raphael.

Riley is hitting everything where it agitates. It's like porcupine quills under the skin- not an experience she likes to remember.

She ducks her head, knowing that something isn't right, that something is wrong and that she shouldn't be around humans until she figures it out.

"May I go, St. Raphael?" He's the biggest dog here, the one who can tell her what to do. But, she won't go without permission. Her control right now is tenuous, wrapped in hard-won rigidity that she learned at a much younger age.