Anger surged inside him, but the flames were only fanned into ferocity by the increase of his panic. It flashed briefly in the whites of his eyes as he jerked his head a few times in the air between them and swayed, physically needing to express it to keep himself from resorting to what he knew. She was doing exactly as she was meant to and Peyote… well the truth of it was that he did not want to harm her like he had done in the beginning. The idea of seeing her eyes well with tears as they had before brought negative feelings that he wasn’t entirely sure how to process.

Briefly he looked at their little girl asleep among the long, thin grass. He should lunge at her, pretend to strike her, to put the kind of fear into Vervain he needed to inspire. But his hooves stayed firmly planted where they were and when he looked back at Vervain his frustration was clear.

“You are,” he said, because she had to know that yes, her place was here. “But take Velaris to the Prairie,” he said, his voice hushed and quick. Then he added a word most were never aware could be a part of his vocabulary. “Please.”