It hit him before he had fully read the approach, its shoulder catching his with enough force to rotate him sideways.
He went with it.
Planted.
Reversed the rotation and used the momentum to carry his palm around in an arc that put it against the beast's neck rather than its side. Different angle. The core in this build was higher—he could feel the density of it through the hide even before his hand entered.
He pressed.
The essence cut.
His fingers found it from an angle that was less clean than the previous two—he had to work for it, the beast still moving, still trying to shake him, its body generating the particular frenzy of something that had registered intrusion and was responding with everything it had.
He held on.
Found the core.
Pulled it free.
