When the beast crashes to the ground, its own massive weight causing it to dig a deep furrow in the forest floor as it skids forward, Natasha is right in its path.

Fuck dignity.

She's up a tree, scrambling up two branches to wrap all four limbs around another, pulling herself tight against it to keep her back from being torn open by the razor sharp tips of its horns.

Once it's gone past her, though, and stopped moving entirely, she breathes a sigh of relief. When Thor begins cheering, she can't help herself, she laughs. Then she lets go of the branch with her arms, and mirrors his pose of arms upraised in victory... though hers are technically raised down. Semantics. She screams with him, a happy shout of victory. She doesn't even know if he'll turn and look at her, but it's difficult to not get caught up in his excitement.