Human civilization was built upon the simple idea that we ought to try talking to one another before attempting to kill each other, and we should at least establish clearly the reasons why we are attempting to kill each other before getting down to the all-important task of thinning our own populations to control land-usage and to reduce the spreading of infectious disease. In spite of the many advantages of war, there is always some dumb bastard out there that might want to buy one's junk, and if he calls himself a thief for helping one get rid of it, that just shows oneself to be the wiser of two neighbors.
You are uncertain, though, of whether or not dragons have ever heard of this concept, and as you crouch there before a much larger beast, it comes home to you that you are naked. As a naked beast, you have nothing to offer him except the use of parts of your body, and if this big, purple monster cannot be persuaded to avail himself of any of them, it is apt to be more his inclination to injure them, the prospect of which bothers you immensely.
As you ponder fleeing from the scene, though, your more rational self abruptly steps outside of your own body and cuffs you in the head. Pointing to a whiteboard containing some sundry and various mathematical expressions, your more rational self explains carefully--as if speaking to a very slow child--that your chances of escaping from a hostile situation are decidedly limited. If you really think you're going to succeed at escaping from this situation, he says to you sternly, then you are too dumb to live, and if you do choose to take such a route, then he isn't going to stick around to experience your untimely demise with you.
In that moment, a state of utter, total exhaustion washes over you all of a sudden, and you find your forequarters going out from under you, sliding forward and bringing your chest to the ground, which leaves your ass--most humiliatingly--in the air, your heart still fluttering with panic. With your complete, although involuntary, submission to the purple beast clearly established, your rational self gives a curt, partially approving nod, and he steps back in through the door from which he emerged. {{Hello}} you manage to stammer shyly.
To your shock, the great purple beast abruptly lowers his own forequarters with his forepaws extending gallantly forward, achieving a formal bow that most obviously puts your relatively awkward gesture to shame in terms of grace and style, and then he rises back up. Unlike your own inadvertent gesture, there was no submission in the motion at all. It was a motion of purest grace and enviable dignity. {{Well}} he purrs into your thoughts {{then it is good, I suppose, to see that the elders are still teaching at least some of you whelps good manners}}.
You just stare up at the amethyst-scaled dragon wide-eyed, your mouth open and your ass still in the air. He's huge. As a human, you were certainly accustomed to adults being larger than yourself, but the size-difference, in this case, is greater than you have ever known. You are uncertain of how to deal with this, and your jaw only opens and closes several times. {{What do I do now?}} you ask him helplessly, dry-mouthed.
A sigh comes from him, sounding like the movement of tectonic plates. {{Stand up, you silly whelp}}.
You do so, and your haunches insubordinately plop down under you. Your leafy-green tail wraps around your forepaws as you contract inside yourself under the elder dragon's gaze. The only thing that compares with this is when your gym coach found you naked in the school's locker room after some punks stole your clothes from you, and you were attempting to hide in one of the shower stalls. You feel bare, and it's unfair.
This posture earns you a guffaw from the creature. {{While young, whelp, you are too old to be this coy}} he thunders into your thoughts. {{Respect for your elders is one thing. Behaving like a scared mouse is just impeding our communication}}. He flicks his tail sternly. {{Stand up, I say}} he commands, {{and tell me your name, so I can know what to call you}}.
At the command, your hindquarters shoot straight up, and you have to pull your forelegs under you awkwardly to keep yourself from falling forward again, your back arching upward. {{I am Amber-fields}} you answer softly, giving him the name that Dizzy-tail chose for you.
{{Amber-fields}} he repeats politely, {{and I may be hailed as Blunt-snout}} he reciprocates. {{Now, you are obviously too timid to be a trouble-maker in your own right}} he says, more sternly, {{so what is that other whelp up to?}}
{{I fell from some cave, and I got hurt}} you say helplessly, {{and after I got sick, he kept helping me}}.
{{Then why did he not call in your family to help you?}} he asks.
{{I can't go back to them!}} you cry, lowering your head. Your old life is gone, you realize. Your family, your house, your friends at school, your diversions, your Pokemon-hunting, and everything you love are all gone. It has all vanished abruptly, and you are cut off from everything familiar in this strange world.
He thrashes his tail angrily. {{So it's like that is it?}} he growls lividly {{as if it were the Warring Tribes Period!}} he stomps his hind-paw hard on the ground and shakes his head furiously, gushing a spout of flame from his maw.
You cower on the ground as he rages, not knowing what to do. {{I'm sorry!}} you howl, starting to cry. {{I'm so sorry! I didn't know!}}
{{You, sorry??}} he says incredulously, his tail making whip-crack sounds on the ground. {{No!}} he says firmly, stomping a forepaw on the ground and sending up a cloud of dust. {{You have nothing to feel sorry for, I tell you. Nothing! To think some parents would...}}
Shaking your head, you realize he must have seen you and Dizzy together. {{Ugh, wait a minute}} you say, narrowing your eyes. {{Were you somewhere WATCHING us?}} Eww.
Now, it's his turn to look chagrined. {{Well...well...well...}} he plops his haunches on the ground comically and lowers his head. {{Okay, guilty}} he says dryly. {{I mean...well, if it means anything, WOW, you guys were amazing. I mean you--}}.
{{No, dude, cut it out}} you say disgustedly. Oddly, being sort of disgusted with the older drake makes you feel more confident talking to him, and now you want answers of your own. {{Look, you...uh...Blunt-snout or whatever your name is; Dizzy-tail mentioned some crazy hermit out here...}}.
{{Hermit??}} he retorts. He guffaws at that. {{I guess that means me. So that's what they've been calling me for being a kobold-lover}} he chuckles. {{The kobolds have a right to their land, though}} he says firmly. {{I stand by them as their ally}}.
{{So there is some sort of a war?}} you ask.
{{Only a war for the welfare of a downtrodden people!}} he proclaims proudly. {{They don't communicate by telepathy like dragons do}} he says poetically, {{but their hoots and squeals carry meanings}}. He draws himself up pompously as he continues, {{in fact, I can prove it as an arcanological fact. Their calls follow a system of rules, and because of these rules, they are able to transmit meaning or even convey an abstract idea like that of love. I am not some mad-drake, but I have painstakingly documented this information. Just come look through my thought-crystals, someday! I'll show you. You'll see. Telepathy is NOT the only possible form of communication, just the most efficient}}.
You nod weakly, not knowing whether to tell him you agree or to just give up on trying to explain where you really come from.
{{Now, answer my question, young Whelp}} Blunt-snout says firmly. {{What is that little, blue scoundrel up to, and why is he hiding you out here?}}
{{Umm, well, how about we wait until he comes back, and you can ask him?}} you ask.
{{Well, I suppose that's worth a try}} he admits. {{Another way is that you could bring him to the kobold camp on foot, and I can promise you'll be greeted peacefully. However, unless I have spoken with him myself, I will not allow him to go on invading kobold lands}}.