When the brown dragon reared up and bared his teeth, Asheran felt his blood run cold while the primitive monkey parts of his brain shrieked in mindless terror. His legs kept pumping, though, and he kept moving forward; in fact, he put on a last, desperate burst of speed. He had to reach the boy before he was eaten, or bit in half. Stupid, stupid, idiot baby.
Then the dragon was coming toward him and he threw up his hands in a futile gambit to protect his face - and found himself lifted into the air, held in the dragon's mouth. He twisted, struggling instinctively against those gentle teeth, and let out an impotent bellow. He found himself scanning the sands, watching for the boy he had been chasing, as he fought mid-air, thinking: no, no, no, no.
There! He could still get to him, someone had to get to the other candidate before he got himself hurt --
Then there was the hit.
Asheran went limp in Talith's mouth, as if he'd been struck too.
He said other things, too, none of which bore repeating.