Golden Glade forced into their true shape

Resign she does, lowering her body and plopping onto the ground. Good. Natjuk lets her muzzle slide free. He wills the residual aggression away, tempered by the girl's prostration. Hopefully, she will not do that again. To him or to anybody else, lest she incurs the wrath of someone nastier than himself.

Natjuk.

He has never been one for conversation and he's not about to start now. He retreats from her prone form, never letting her slip from view. He returns to his rabbit and tears into it with renewed fervor. Piece by delicate piece slides down his throat. Hawkishly, he watches his company. No sudden movement and she'll be free to go...or stay and try to engage him. So long as there are no obtuse inquiries, he will respond.