Whitebark Stream don't think we need to engage in any pleasantries

colt preened under her eyes. out here he was free to exchange those looks with red, redbird, indra — he was free to look at her and not roll his eyes in the next moment if sadey caught sight of them.
briggs wondered if she knew she belonged to him. he wondered if she wanted that. 
it was not something he had ever thought about a possession. but she was more than something fine; she was someone fine, crimson clay he could mold in better ways than anyone else.
the buck had fallen again. colt stopped to peruse the indentation along the bank left by its hip.