You're trembling from the fatigue. Granted, you'd ran as far as your legs could carry you, only to end up tripping over the uneven terrain of the plains and spraining your ankle. You were trying to escape the herd yet again, trying to escape him.

He was just stalling your inevitable capture. Waiting for you to wear yourself out before he'd swoop in, galloping right at you and placing you on his stallion back. The next thing you knew , you were right back where you started. It doesn't help that the other centaurs within his herd expressed their amusement when Mikedes carried you back to camp.

"Are you done pouting?"

You're sitting on your bed--well, as much of a bed as it can be: a wooden table and a wool blanket thrown over it for more comfortability to a flesh human like you. His thick fingers caress the swollen flesh, tugging on the cloth he'd wrapped around your ankle along the makeshift splint he's made. While it was humorous at first seeing you try and flee his side, the repetitivity of your actions was enough to make him smile in exasperation. He doesn't get how you think you could outrun a centaur of all things. Why you’re so insistent of leaving him.

He’s saved you. It’s only fair that you’re now his.