No roar came from the living bell.
It drew one enormous breath.
Air crossed the amber shell of its chest, struck something hollow inside, and rang through Jiang's bones. Six root-colored legs tightened around the branch. Its antlers lowered until their wet tips touched the clear river wall.
Jiang smelled himself on its breath.
Not blood. Not the sour wet coat he wore now. Clean breast oil, warm down, and the sheltered skin beneath an emperor's jaw.
Jiang's scent belonged to the feather in the crown.
Still, the animal charged him.
Antlers punched through the river wall. Clear living tissue split around both points, and the whole channel lurched toward open sky.
Jiang kicked backward through the current.
His sound wing caught water. His failed wing dragged, turning the escape into a roll. One antler passed beneath his breast while the other tore a strip of loose down from his side.
Another ringing call crossed the water.
Its call carried fear this time.
