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

colt fell back to follow. red was becoming a fine tracker; she took to the wind and the earth as though she had been born in these wilds.
he had never asked after her past since that first time, and explained nothing about his. they lived in the moment. and during this one he sidled to her taut scarlet shoulder and looked toward the panting, winded buck.
"whatcha think, redbird?" his breath stirred the fur along her shoulder. "if we pick wrong, one of us gets fucked up. if we pick right, we eat good before th'gang gets here."