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

Indra did not speak a reply.
She felt the warmth of his presence for a moment, tasted his breath once it had dissipated across her neck and down her cheek. Then she pulled away to investigate.
Her steps were measured and deliberate. She was not fast now, only steady, reaching and nearly silent. If the buck heard her at all it gave no indication; the thing's breath was ragged enough to drown her movements.
When she was very close, close enough to nip at it if she wanted, she pulled away and went around to where the brambles formed a wall; there she chuffed, watching its ears, the muscles of the neck - any signs there of awareness would spook her back again.
The buck only grunted to itself and seemed useless where it had sunken down. She turned her head to look at Colt, and that motion brought an animated huff from the buck, who tried and failed to rise, calling out as it brandished a crown of thorns.