Peter turned slightly and looked out towards the sea. The truth was that he still didn't know how he felt. Obviously, he didn't like being here. Everyone who knew him hated him, or at the least, looked down on him. He had to live around people he had betrayed - as good as killed - and the people he had done that for didn't care at all, not that he would have expected them to, but...
Was it better than living as a rat for twelve years? That was the question really. He still couldn't imagine it. A week or two had been enough. Maybe it got easier with time, easier to forget what it was like to be human. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing.
"I don't miss home," he said finally, very low, so that the sound of the ocean almost drowned it out. What was there to miss? At least here while he lived in fear, it wasn't in fear of being found out. Everyone already knew. It wasn't in fear of the Dark Lord penetrating his mind, reading his thoughts, torturing him. There was no Dark Lord here. He missed how things used to be, before all this, but there was no going back to that now, ever.