Silvertip Mountain thestral

He wasn't expecting to hit any part of Sanguinus at all, let alone something soft and yielding. The man's scream made Dragomir's ears ring and his stomach flipped uncomfortably. All the pain coursing through his body was catching up to him and sickening him so that when he looked up and saw blood where Sanguinus' eye was, and tasted that same blood on his teeth, his belly clenched with abrupt nausea and bile rushed up his throat. He vomited, swaying on the spot, dazed and dizzy. Sanguinus was preoccupied. Please, the man pleaded, making Dragomir's heart skip a beat. He could run. He had a chance. But he could barely keep himself steady on his own feet, and his mouth filled with acid and he vomited again.

His sick had barely left his throat when Sanguinus roared and descended on him, all fury where there had been amusement and deceit before. Dragomir's mouth parted in a last desperate shriek of PLEASE! as the man bore down on him, seizing him easily and slamming him into the stone floor. His nose was pressed into his own vomit. Pain wracked every nerve in his body—whether from existing injuries and exertion or from new ones flayed into his flesh by Sanguinus' wroth teeth—until he was overcome by a sensation of spinning and floating, which was blessedly numb in comparison. His consciousness flitted to the edges of his mind, threatening to make him black out again; it was all too much, and he was unaware that he continued to scream and scream for help even as he fought to keep from going under.