She had to quickly extract herself from the pool of water she had promptly fallen into, with all the grace and precision years of military training and scouting could muster mind you. She totally wasn't flailing, shaking water off herself, spluttering, and coughing, nope. She took a moment to recollect her thoughts and gritted her teeth. See, biting someling's neck meant a number of things in changeling culture, which was understandable. Their own fangs were highly versatile creations capable of producing a number of toxins and venom ranging anywhere from paralyzing a victim and enervation to straight up knocking a pony out or causing various effects, including feelings of intense paranoia and minor audio-visual hallucinations. When used on prey, read, anything that wasn't a changeling, it was a tool. Use in changeling society on other changelings was strictly taboo, except in very specific circumstances. So the human biting her was the cultural equivalent of walking into a Catholic church and throwing up in the Baptismal font. Faux pas didn't even begin to cut it.