Page 32 of Training my Human

“I don’t see why I have to be stuffed away,” he complained.

“Because we don’t know if anyone’s watching.” I’d not seen signs of spying but I remained leery since the visit of the RCMP. “Best we don’t take chances. I’ll let you out soon as we’re in the forest. Just so you know, we’ll be going east of the trailer and entering the woods by that really big pine.”

“Whatever,” he moped, crawling into the bag.

I exited with my heavy—and grumbly—bag and joined Maddox.

“Ready?”

I nodded. We set off at a brisk pace, just two people going for a hike. Although, I did wonder what anyone watching would think when we returned with his bulging pack empty. Here was hoping I didn’t have spying eyes on my property.

The forest in early fall always delighted. From the crisp scents to the colors, it dazzled the senses. It also reminded me how long it had been since I’d taken the time to literally smell and touch nature. I’d been so caught up in work that I’d forgotten how relaxing it could be.

Until a shrill voice interrupted. “I smell wood. Can I get out now?”

I glanced at Maddox. “What do you think?” The forest surrounded us and I heard and saw nothing out of place.

“Probably safe enough.”

I knelt and placed the knapsack on the ground, freeing Abaddon who emerged with a grumpy mien.

“Toted around like a baby. The shame.”

“For your safety. So suck it up, dragoncup.”

“And she calls me bossy,” he muttered, scampering ahead.

Maddox and I kept him in sight as we followed. “How far do we have to go, do you think?”

“I looked at some 3D maps of the area. If we keep heading west, we should hit some mountainous terrain within an hour so long as we keep this pace.”

“That’s not too bad.” I glanced at him with his heavier load. “Need me to carry some of that stuff?”

He snorted. “Yeah, no. That’s man’s work.”

“Ah, misogyny alive and well,” I stated.

“More like my mom raised me with the understanding that as long as my arms and legs work, no woman should ever have to carry anything other than her purse.”

“Your mom taught you that?” I squeaked. “My granny was the opposite. She always insisted I do everything myself. Claimed I couldn’t count on a man to do it. In her defense, my granddad was a lazy drunk.”

“I’m surprised your grandmother kept him around, seeing as how very strong-willed and independent, based on the stories you’ve told of her.”

“She was, but only because of what he put her through. She grew up being told she had to marry and depend on a man. Given her own father abused her, she latched on to the first fellow that gave her a way out. Only he turned out to be a dick. At least she benefited in the end. Turned out the logging company he worked for had life insurance for all their workers. She used that money to buy the land and trailer. She raised my mom there, and later on me. She said when he died, she’d never felt so relieved. Or free.”

“That sucks. I don’t remember my dad much, but from what Mom said, he did good by us.”

“No need to feel sorry for me. I had Granny and she made sure I had everything I needed, including ensuring I wouldn’t grow up thinking I had to cater to anyone. She encouraged me to be my own person.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too. She’d have liked you.”

The conversation remained steady as we walked, me learning how he sucked at math in school and then ironically ended up owning a business.“Good thing for the QuickBooks program or my taxes would be a nightmare.”I told him about my first tattoo given to a friend in high school in their kitchen using less than hygienic methods. Luckily that friend didn’t get any kind of blood poisoning and years later when I ran into him and saw the faded shit still staining his arm, I redid his tattoo into something epic for free.

It should be known, while I’d dated and been in a few relationships, I’d never really had deep conversations with those men. We met—usually while drinking in a bar—fucked, partied, but most weren’t interested in me as a person, just a hole to stick their dick in. The difference with Maddox proved staggering. He actually listened to me. Didn’t turn everything I said into some kind of sexual innuendo yet made his interest in me clear. Lacing his fingers through mine as we walked. Occasionally bumping his hip into mine and giving me a small smile.

I liked it.

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