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

her teeth flashed for him. he had missed it in his dip: a hard fighter's jab. 
they looked at each other; colt straightened slowly as her sodden neckfur flickered in silent communication. "i ain't someone who's played much, redbird." it was not a warning this time, an explanation.
he approached on wary legs; he invaded her space and watched for a warning glint of teeth, the tension of her body, anything to say that he wasn't welcome.
his red eyes burned into her own. he wanted to touch the dried buck's-blood along her chin. "d'yew like it? being here with me?"