Before his head can whip back around to stare at you, you step hurriedly backwards, keeping your movements as restrained as possible, praying that the motion doesn't attract his awful attention.
You're barely behind the trunk of a thick, gnarled oak when he lets out a guttural roar of rage. It's a dreadful sound: fury, loss, and fear all mingled into one savage cry. It's almost enough to make you turn and run, but you mustn't. Being chased through the forest by that monstrosity would, you're certain, be the end of you.
Instead, you make your way, as silently as possible, up the trunk of the tree. It's an easier climb than you might have expected, the aged oak so pitted and twisted that there are plenty of handholds whenever branches are out of reach.
As you climb, you hear the blundering fury of the thing below you, roaring and screaming as he searches for you. All you have to do, you tell yourself, is stay up here until help arrives.
Then, only a short distance away, there's a cry of fear.
Grace.
The crashing and screaming from below ceases as the headmaster falls silent. Then, with another bellowing roar, he surges into the forest, passing directly below you without looking up, his mind consumed with the thought of new prey.
As quietly as possible, you slip down the trunk of the tree, dropping the final few feet to the forest floor.
Alone in the clearing, you turn to look in the direction of the cry. For a moment, your resolve wavers. You've barely made it through two encounters with the headmaster; going off in search of Grace seems like a surefire way to meet him again, and you doubt your luck will hold out much longer.
There's another cry: this one is a shriek, the voice almost tearing from the agony it's trying to express.