Under the force of the dragon pushing him down, Hawk hit the ground so hard it drove a cloud of dust into the air.

He felt something break, and had the sensation of continuing to fall somehow, as if the force had pushed him straight through the surface of the ground and into some other space. Shapeless, luminous, he flailed his wings and tails and heads in every direction, scrabbling. He finally got control, with his wings outstretched in many directions at once, and then bringing all of them in tightly, dove hurtling down--

--and then back up, into the world, while the dragon was still coming down on top of him, and the dust cloud was still settling somewhat, and the hulking black-furred creature sat watching on the hood of a red sedan.