He was enjoying it just fine until she nearly stepped on him and started telling him off -- and that vaguely familiar Daine person had been exceptionally nice to him, actually, and puzzled him by inspiring him to be nice tolerable in return. "Wake up?" he asks, confused as hell. "Would you slow do -- AAH!"

The trouble with a horse's face is that short of puncturing the flesh (which his tiny claws would be hard-pressed to do), it's really not all that great in terms of claw-holds. With each jarring step, Peter feels his grip becoming more and more tenuous until he slips right off and tumbles toward her enormous, bat-crushing hooves. He flaps furiously, no concrete thought in his head beyond 'UP!'