Everything played out the way he wanted, keeping the thrill in the chase higher than he could ever remember it being. Not only did he manage to capitalize on her fear to push her the direction he needed her, Peyote could tell she’d never swam in the ocean before by the wild way her legs flailed in the water and the panicked whites of her eyes. It would mean as they went out to deeper waters (and they would) she would know she had to rely on his guidance to get them back to land. Perfectly sheltered and fallen right into his grasp, the poor thing never had a chance.

Even her pitiful little attempt to plead with him for home only made him more gleeful. The way she cried made his grin deepen. Peyote felt proud of his success as they swam further out and, more used to it than she, knew just how to kick and strike his legs to cut gracefully among the bobbing surf, pulling his neck high up enough that the waves couldn’t break over his nose or eyes.

Were they not exerting energy to swim and Peyote doing all he could to continue to pressure her the direction he wanted her, despite her fright, he might’ve possibly spoken again. New home. He would’ve said. There was no point in her longing for where he was taking her from. That place may as well have been erased from her mind the moment her hooves no longer touched its soil, because Peyote planned to stash her deep in the marshes of the Lagoon he inhabited. That was going to be her new home and he had absolutely no intention of ever letting her leave it.

[will continue with a new thread in the Lagoon!]