The rattle of water in her lungs is melodic to the kelpie, and he flicks his ear nearer her salt-torn throat to better hear. With the satisfaction of a kill off the table(almost literally), he must settle for what scraps he can. The softer salt taste of her blood is still on his teeth, and he savors it as long as he is able.
Eventually, Kyveli's voice returns to her, though it is broken frequently with coughs and sputtering. Ivar has been guiding her back to shallower water (no easy feat with the growing swells that precede a storm). "We're almost back at the island." He tells her, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
A wave swells high above them, and Ivar snarls in its general direction. This water is perfect for hunting, but it is a foe against a rescue. He isn't strong enough to push Kyveli entirely above the water, and he isn't sure how well her water walking works so far from shore or how much she has mastered it.
"The storm will be here before we can find her," Ivar adds as he feels his hooves scrape the sand below. A few more yards, and she'll be able to stand in the shallows. "We need to find shelter first." Though the sapphire and white stallion prefers to use hypnosis as infrequently as possible, he reaches toward the glittering filly as his tail shifts back to legs and he stands. Ivar's muzzle presses against the filly's shoulder, and though her heaving sides and bleeding neck all but beg the kelpie to pull her back to sea, he does not. Instead he presses silent commands into the wet slick of her hair. 'trust me. you feel safe. i make you feel safe.'
Eventually, Kyveli's voice returns to her, though it is broken frequently with coughs and sputtering. Ivar has been guiding her back to shallower water (no easy feat with the growing swells that precede a storm). "We're almost back at the island." He tells her, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
A wave swells high above them, and Ivar snarls in its general direction. This water is perfect for hunting, but it is a foe against a rescue. He isn't strong enough to push Kyveli entirely above the water, and he isn't sure how well her water walking works so far from shore or how much she has mastered it.
"The storm will be here before we can find her," Ivar adds as he feels his hooves scrape the sand below. A few more yards, and she'll be able to stand in the shallows. "We need to find shelter first." Though the sapphire and white stallion prefers to use hypnosis as infrequently as possible, he reaches toward the glittering filly as his tail shifts back to legs and he stands. Ivar's muzzle presses against the filly's shoulder, and though her heaving sides and bleeding neck all but beg the kelpie to pull her back to sea, he does not. Instead he presses silent commands into the wet slick of her hair. 'trust me. you feel safe. i make you feel safe.'