The beast did not charge immediately. That was the first thing Robert noted—and it told him more about what he was dealing with than the size of it had. A beast that charged immediately was operating on instinct. A beast that held its position after detecting prey and waited to see what the prey would do next was operating on something closer to assessment.
It was quite large. Robert registered that fully as he made his way closer, reducing the distance to twenty meters, and the distant lights from the deep zone caught their outline between two of the wide, ancient trunks.
Low to the ground in its waiting posture but not small—a body built for sustained force rather than speed, covered in a hide that had the particular layered quality of something that had taken damage before and continued.
Its head was broad and flat, its eyes catching the minimal light in a way that confirmed it had already located both precisely. It was not looking at Robert.
