Lost Creek Hollow dry-aged wagyu

Don't know. She parroted back to the man, still having not moved from before the stag. Forehead pressed briefly in to the coarse hairs of its neck, murmuring something else before withdrawing fully.

She is on her feet again and moving deftly, although not entirely soundless. There is more leg to her than anything—and she is lean, not nearly as strong as the man. Green eyes flare in his direction again.
Was saying to it, 'sleep'. You; big voice, make scare. Why explain? He was likely to have watched it struggle, suffer, and go without help. At least this way the stag's spirit was at peace.