The natural instinct when someone throws themselves at his back is to roll, putting himself on top of whatever heap they land in. But the rhino is where such a manoeuvre would end up, and he doesn't want to be trampled under its feet. So he let's this man knock him down, but not for long. He's not being pinned, but there seems to be something, some change of presence in the air that holds them in.

...And the rhino out.

He has no time to really think about what that might be, not that Jacob does much thinking. All his movements are instinctive, his muscles prepared by over fifteen years of training and practise.

The other man speaks, and Jacob is moving. He has the spear in hand, but his target is no longer the rhino.

This close, he can see how thick the creature's skin is, almost like plate armour in its own right, and its eyes too small to land an easy blow. Even if he does, the beast is still bridled like a horse, and a man sits upon it, forcing it to trample.

And that's why Jacob uses the lowered head as a launching pad. He jumps, one foot landing on the creature's face, between lower and upper horn, a stepping stone to the flat of its skull, and then up onto its shoulders.

No one at home is rver going to believe this! he thinks, the adrenaline flooding his veins as the surprised rider yells out. He's clearly not expecting anyone to join him in the saddle, and he's certainly not expecting a spear to be impaled into his torso.