Your blood runs cold. As the kobolds approach, you are clinging to a narrow ledge, exposed in clear daylight. The "cover" you suggested was looked like a high ledge, just up the rocky bluff that you have only managed to climb up half-way. Dizzy-tail, who had been skeptical about you being able to make it up there, had ascended quickly and found a place of hiding, but you, having only been a dragon for a short while and not quite so able at using your wings to assist you in a fast ascent, have had to pick your way painstakingly up the bluff.
With slow, ceremonial beating, the kobolds emerge into the clearing below you. The creatures, while dragon-like and quite colorful, are strange. They seem to be like dragons, but they are two-legged beasts. Their wings don't seem to be functional but, instead, drape loosely around their bodies like monastic robes, and they are folded solemnly in front of them underneath their arms. Their wings are, to varying degrees, either painted or pierced, and the degree to which they are either, you suppose, might be a recognition of their social standing. Unlike the brute, war-like savages you expected, they look to be extremely formal.
Some of them pound solemnly on instruments. Others have their hands folded together as they moan softly in some sort of ritual chant. Their heads are bowed as they move, which is fortunate considering your position only a few meters above their heads. Six of them carry between them a large, wooden box that has been neatly sanded-down and apparently covered in some sort of resin, which you suppose might be a casket for burial. Well, that would explain why they are so solemn, anyhow.
They are moving so very slowly, one appearing right after the other, and your claws begin to ache terribly as you hold yourself completely and utterly rigid. You might have had the strength to continue your climb up to rejoin Dizzy-tail, but hanging here on the rock, in your still weakened condition, is taking its toll on your body. You fear, with every passing second, that you will slip and fall down in a broken heap on the ground right in the middle of them. And how could there be so many of them? It must be a city, down there. You lose count.
{{Hang on a while longer}} Dizzy-tail broadcasts to you, apparently watching from above and sensing that you are suffering. {{Don't worry, I'll...}}
{{Get your head out of view, Dizzy}} you snap back at him. {{If I am captured, we don't want them to know there are two of us}}.
{{Okay}} he says reluctantly.
After a seemingly endless procession of kobolds passes under you, the path below is clear, and they are, once again out-of-view for the moment.
You carefully continue your climb up the bluff, trying to avoid having too much sand and dirt tumbling down and groping for reliable pawholds. You have spent this particular climb learning how to use your wings to help you, rather than them getting in the way and catching the wind. You have had to. On more than one occasion, gusts of wind have threatened to peel you violently away from the surface, and you have had to cling with all of your strength to roots and toeholds to prevent yourself from being sent tumbling down like a sack of root vegetables. You learned how to cup your wings in such a manner that, when you were struck with a wind-gust, you were pushed flat, and with some bit of effort, you have begun to use this effect to traverse nearly vertical, featureless parts of the ascent, being suspended just long enough to get to the next pawhold.
With one final lurch, you heft yourself up to the level ground at the top of the bluff. You find...