Artemis- Gorilla Attack

Before he had time to investigate, his cheek beeped, and an emotionless robotic voice droned into his ear.

“Get Mulch out of there, Arty. Get back down now.”

What is it? wondered Artemis. What’s in this cage?

Then a four-hundred-pound Ugandan mountain gorilla crashed into him, leaving the thought behind like a speech bubble.
...

The cage’s resident, a black-and-gray bull gorilla, shot straight up, woken from deep sleep. His eyes were wide but blurred, his teeth yellow and bared.

Stay down, Artemis, she thought. Stay in the hole.

No such luck. Artemis clambered to the surface, carefully navigating the simple climb. The time stream had not granted him any agility. As Artemis often said, the physical was not his area.

Holly thumbed her ad-com. “Get Mulch out of there, Arty,” she shouted. “Get back down now.”

It was too late. The gorilla had decided these newcomers were a threat to be dealt with. It rolled from its nest of leaves and bark, landing on eight knuckles, the impact sending a jarring wave along its arm hair.

Holly buzzed up her shield as she ran, silver strands floating behind her as the wig fell apart, marking her trail.

The gorilla attacked, grabbing a surprised Artemis Fowl by the shoulders, roaring in his face, head back, teeth like a bear trap.
...

Holly charged across without hesitation, waving her arms, shouting, making herself a target.

The gorilla huffed and snorted, gathering Artemis close to its chest, warning Holly to stay back. Artemis’s head flopped on his shoulders, and his eyes were half closed.

Holly stopped ten feet from the animal and lowered her arms and gaze. A nonthreatening stance.

The gorilla made a few fake attacks, thundering to within a foot of Holly then contemptuously turning his back, all the while grunting and barking, pressing Artemis to his chest. Artemis’s hair was slicked back with blood, and a crimson trickle leaked from the corner of his left eye. One arm was broken, and blood pouched the sleeve of his tracksuit.
...

The gorilla did a comical double take, amazed to hear gorilla-speak coming from this creature. It sensed a trick but was not sure what that trick might be. And when in doubt, beat your chest.

The gorilla dropped Artemis, stood tall on two feet, thrusting forward chin and pectorals, and began beating its chest with open palms.
...

Holly would feel bad later for putting the beast under a spell, but now there was not a heartbeat to waste on guilt. Artemis was grievously injured, perhaps mortally so.

The gorilla had dropped Artemis like a carcass that had been picked clean. He lay there, still as the dead.

No. Don’t think that.

Holly raced to her friend’s side, skidding the final yard on her knees.

Too far gone. He’s too far gone.

Artemis’s face was pale as bone. His long black hair was matted with blood, and the whites of his eyes were twin crescents through hooded lids. “Mother,” he said, the word riding on a breath.
...

Holly cupped Artemis’s face gently in both hands. “Heal,” she whispered, almost sobbing.

The magical sparks leaped like dogs unleashed, sinking into Artemis’s pores, knitting bones, healing skin, staunching internal bleeding. The sudden transition from death’s door to hale and hearty was rough on Artemis. He shuddered and bucked, teeth chattering, hair frizzing in an electric halo.

“Come on, Artemis,” said Holly, bending over him like a mourner.

“Wake up.”

There was no reaction for several seconds. Artemis looked like a healthy corpse, but then that was how he usually looked. Then his mismatched eyes opened, lids flickering like hummingbird wings as his system rebooted. He coughed and shuddered, flexing fingers and toes.

“Holly,” he said when his vision had cleared. His smile was sincere and grateful. “You saved me again.”

-The Time Paradox, Chapter 7