She flicks her ears right back at him, before looking away, ignoring him pointedly until they get to the stream.

At the water's edge, she slots in beside him, brushing against him as she also bends to drink. Her nose wet and cold, she whurfles in his ear.

Like the way you smell.

And then she turns to identify this new scent, drawing it from ground and the set of hoofprints in the soft mud and up the bank. She stands back to her full height, breathing it in.

Prey.