When Qaron crushed stone, the wanderer knew her to be strong. When she, seemingly by will alone, commanded stone to rise and crush him, the wanderer knew her to be powerful. That in combination with the anguish he felt she locked within herself was a deadly combination, apt to cause unpredictable behavior. And the sudden display of mental ability fit well into his definition of ‘unpredictable’.
At such close range there was no possibility of complete evasion. So as the screen of flying debris barreled into him he let himself go with a gentle push backwards, teetering on his heels and submitting to gravity's relentless earthward pull. On the way down the world slowed around him, adrenaline dancing in his blood and charging his already heightened awareness. He saw an opportunity and took it, curious to see what would happen.
His left hand was free and open. He reached through the cloud of dust and rock to the very largest stone and laid his palm upon it, felt the tingle of strange energies suffusing it- and pushed himself downward against it. He struck the carpet audibly but rose again a split second later with no further damage to his composure.
She would see a large purple bruise on the side of his face, though, and he would feel blood trickling from both nostrils. They were thin streams both, and dried quickly, but the taste of copper would remain on his lips.
Wasting no time he made his way forward again, transfixing Qaron with a determined stare untouched by anger. Indeed nothing even so much as resentment stirred in his soul as he came upon her and delivered a precise strike downward, aimed for the wide area between her shoulder and the crook of her neck. Pain arced up and down his body from a smattering of bruises hidden by armor, but years of discipline put it out of his mind. To allow suffering to hinder his movements would likely be fatal.