The elk came off the rock wall with the same explosive power that had carried it through the rapids, head low, antlers sweeping forward in a wide arc meant to catch anything in its path. The ground shuddered under the impact of its hooves, and the sound of its charge filled the hollow, echoing off the walls of rock and timber like the first notes of a war drum.
Owain moved into the angle of attack.
He didn't move away, not entirely. Rather, he stepped just far enough off the line of the elk's charge to prevent the sort of direct clash that defined the bull elk's battles with others of its own kind.
Owain had slain enough demons to know that he couldn't win in a contest of strength against something that had such an overwhelming advantage in size and strength, so he didn't try. He had nothing to prove, and an attempt to take the charge head-on would reduce him to nothing more than a beast like the one he'd come to kill.
