Haunted Wood ⁠—so you can't crawl no more,

He struggles. Naturally, a wild mustang is expected to throw you off when you ride it.
But this one was weak, and she had too much power.
He lurched up, and she pressed more weight into him, tensing her grip slightly. She didn't want to mark him. Just let him know.
It would be unfair to harm a defenseless being; unless it was a famine and it was prey. Then it is survival of the fittest. 

Soon, he was laying back against the dirt and she was satisfied. Satisfied that if he would launch another attack, she could slip out of it mostly unscathed.
She let go, released the pressure, and flopped beside him, pressing her warmth against him.
She missed intimacy.
Her temple rested against his neck, waiting for the clicking of snapping teeth.
He couldn't deter her. Probably.