There's nothing but pain and terror in his eyes. He's not in any fit state to speak, frozen like a mouse caught in the talons of an owl.

The smell of Kreyu's blood is closer to him now. Out of the corner of his eye he can just see her strike at a bandit with her hand. Her hand shifts, twists, into something scaled, taloned, and she rips out the bandit's throat. He can hear an echo of his own voice "My dragon."