A leisurely wave of their paw over their mouth as they yawn, a loud smack of their lips, and the dragon doesn't even have to walk an inch to pin John under that same paw.
It's a dragon. How can you escape a dragon? Shame on you for even thinking you could.
John's head barely pokes out from under the dragon's toe. An obsidian claw, interlaced with dots of dazzling ruby red, curls over the head of one struggling shrunken soul.
A dignified smile worthy of this noble creature's proud heritage is directed towards John.
Struggle as much as you want. This smile seems to say without words. You are mine, Little One.
This smile curls inward, laced with enigmatic intent as the winged being flexes their toes, pushing John's face into the resulting ground up bits of charred dirt.
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