Numair ran with the dragon streaming closely behind him, gasping for air, into the orange lamplight. Ahead, he suddenly spotted a figure--a tall, slim man with grey wings folded against his back, strolling through the fog with a beer in one hand. He seemed to sight Numair at the same time that Numair saw him, and with a deep frown, set his beer down on the concrete edge of a pillar as he passed it by.
Numair didn't try to change direction, but ran towards the stranger. As his foot hit the ground in time with the stranger's, though, he felt his boot stir up grass.
For a lurid instant as he passed the stranger, he saw an endless plain that blurred into a deep, stormy sky. Lightning flickered between heavy stormclouds, and thunder grumbled in the distance.
And then he and the stranger had bypassed one another, and the vision was gone. But even so, for some reason, Numair stopped running, practically falling against the pillar where the stranger had left his beer. He turned and saw the stranger unfolding his wings, spreading them wide.
The wings only had one flight feather to them, but inexplicably, they were enough of an obstacle to make the dragon halt, coiling up with his teeth bared before Hawk. Hawk stared back at him unflinchingly, his hands still tucked into his jacket, the hair not tamed by his beanie tousled by the apparent breeze that the dragon generated.