The Survivor
Each of its knuckles landed on the ground with titanic tremors that briefly caused both of the men's feet to lift from the ground; its hands were thicker than redwood trees, large enough to grasp elephants.
"Emilio," Everett whispered.
"Shh…" Emilio responded, not breaking eye contact with the colossal primate above, "…Don't speak."
The nostrils of the grand beast flared as it exhaled, bringing a mighty gust of wind that rustled the Dragonheart's cloak.
"Spare them, Musafala!"
—A voice that didn't belong to either of the men shouted at, seeming to be yelled directly at the colossus.
It was then that a figure became obvious in the near distance, standing on a hill between trees: a man with a scruffy, red beard, dressed in shoddy, leather armor.
'Another person? Who is he?' Emilio thought.
Whoever the stranger was, it seemed that the mountainous gorilla held some respect for his words as it pulled away, exhaling once more with a tree-rustling breeze before walking off.