Wessex's words are sharper, louder, and his ears flatten slightly as he focuses on the rhythmic, intimidating pounding heralding the arrival of the monster only they can see. It storms closer, monstrous and intent on their little quartet, and certainly not seeming friendly with its aggressive approach. Cera digs his claws into the dry earth, snarl rumbling in his chest.
Directions are shouted to the group at large, but none relevant to him in particular. Cera glances at their small party, recognizing the leader in Wessex, similar to those he'd followed into battle in prior years. He trusts her, in this moment, to lead the other two men who do not have the advantage of sight in the oppressive dark of the night. So he follows his own instincts, rushing forward towards the earth-shaped creature that swings its heavy limbs at them, barking and snapping his teeth as he races in a wide circle towards its back.
With any luck it will distract the beast enough to help his fellow adventurers land their attacks if they are so inclined to try them. He jumps on stilt-legs, keeping careful watch of the reach of the creature, waiting for each lumbering motion before darting in behind the sweep of each limb to further antagonize it. Cera doesn't attempt to bite it just yet, needing to know what the plan was before he puts himself fully in the path of friendly fire.
