Thunder Dome from the art of mirrors

To the ground she went, though it was not until she settled there that Stjornuati's gaze moved to her face, noted the whites of her eyes and the flaring of her nostrils. The odor of fear permeated the air around them and it was with realization that he stepped back, suddenly giving her space rather than tending to her injury. His head ducked, apologetic, trying to make himself seem a touch less imposing than he was at full height.