Meadow

Somewhere, he silently filed away the direction she gave and, as he fell in step with her, limping his way out of the water and onto the muddy, snow-covered bank, that same piece of himself was analyzing every direction she showed him. It was natural for him to study the path and learn where she’d chosen to tuck herself safely away. Later, when he was capable, he could use the information to track it down again, no matter how secretive she thought it. Unfortunate, for her, she was leading the snake right back to her nest. Peyote still hadn’t firmly decided whether he was going to come back for her, but the intention was lurking, which likely meant he'd feel the push eventually to seek out where she was.

Who was he kidding? He was absolutely going to try and seek her out once he was certain he had the strength to be physical and fend off any retaliation. Not that Peyote saw the pale girl as capable of retaliating against him. If he were cleverer, given lessons of how to be manipulative rather than a brute, he might’ve even strung her back along with him today. He had never been taught the benefit of using a silver-tongue to trick the too-trusting into following him, his only point-of-reference was whether he had the strength to be physical enough to force her where he wanted her. If someone tried to intervene on her behalf, Peyote had to be strong enough to fight them, too.

Oh, and Peyote… His ears flicked as his blue eyes shot toward her rather than picking apart their surroundings for any notable landmarks. He had already noted to walk along the winding river and knew they would be heading toward a waterfall.

Something about the way she said his name…

Thank you.

Thank you? Peyote blinked at her even as his steps continued to plod one after the other, deferring to her lead. Another set of words that had never been uttered his way came from the red-eyed girl, and he found the candor of her voice intriguing when she’d said them. Why would anyone ever express gratitude toward the former Lagoon boss’s little beast? Why would anyone ever speak so softly, so sweetly to him? Peyote’s mind drew up an unidentifiable stallion coming across Lenore and seeing the pretty prize that she was. They’d snatch her up before Peyote had the chance to double-back and take her for himself. The thought irritated him.

Before he left her, he would make certain her home was well tucked away. Peyote would like to keep this little treasure safe and sound until he was able to covet it.

“Thank you,” he repeated her words with his low voice, but made sure to speak loud enough that she heard him and emphasized that it was her who should be shown gratitude, not him. There were many things to thank her for, one being the rumbling tumble of water he could hear ahead that’d soothe his aching hip, another that she’d unknowingly taught her secret path to her hideaway to a beast who’d sooner rip her away from it all. As well, Peyote found himself grateful for a different kind of company, no matter how strange it felt to have. Soft conversations with pretty girls in the moonlight wasn’t an everyday kind of occasion for the boy, and he was beginning to find he rather liked it.