Heron Lake Plateau We might fall in love- or fall apart

Oblivious to the fact he was causing reeds to wilt and birds to fall from their roosts in the trees, or that he'd become a walking cloud of toxic fumes, Screech continued to mosey along until he heard a distinctive sound; it wasn't the hiss of air through teeth from Niamh, but a small bugle, a strangled sound of something young that was still adjusting to the whole being alive thing. He pushed through some tall reeds, snaking through them with his head low and mood evidently soured; but as he made it across the hillock and to the other side, a louder, more gutteral sound erupted from his right side — and a bull elk was suddenly right fucking there, bleating a weird noise that both surprised and disoriented the boy.

He reacted by skittering sideways in retreat, and managed to avoid being ploughed by the crown of antlers being leveled at his hip — but only just. The thunder of the beast's hooves reverberated through the soil and Screech thought he was about to actually shit himself as he shifted clockwise, then he took off at a clip for the nearest overhang of foliage, throwing himself in to the deep shadows beneath a copse of trees (and, as fate would have it, directly in to a bramble bush). 

The bull stomped about for a few minutes, calling out, tossing its weight around, but it wasn't looking for the wolf that had come too close; it's attention shifted to one of the females, and soon it was off to chase her instead.