In all his centuries of life, Renkaryn could not recall having ever felt quite so humiliated.
He growled in frustration, flaming pointlessly at the trees around him. Of course, nothing in this godsdamned jungle was dry enough to burn properly, and the best he got was a few spluttering fires in the dead foliage beneath him.
Growling again, he thrashed around futilely; the vines and branches that held him were too thick, he couldn't get free. Why on earth had he thought it would be a good idea to try and dive into the trees instead of looking for a clearing?
Wings pinned to his sides, held suspended over the ground at an awkward, twisted angle and caged in by the trees he'd felled when he "landed", the dragon gave in to frustration and let out an earth shattering roar, twisting and flaming violently.
Which, of course, only got him tangled further. Damnit.