John, meantime, had no choice but to listen against the door of the bathroom, his large ear pressed up against it comically.
“OW!” Dragon screamed, clutching her tail away and holding it up to examine the crumpled bite mark at its tip as Carrie scampers by. “You wee little RAT!”
With little else to do and unable to save John at her present size, Carrie bolts for the door, pumping her legs so fast that they swirl into a cloud of dust. She takes off with a sound much like screeching tires and her little mousey form is off.
The dragon sees this and lets go of her tail and hand, which have mysteriously stopped hurting, and begins to run after Carrie. The mouse springs under the slit beneath the closed door and scampers into the hall, just in time for the impression of a large fat dragon’s head slamming into the wooden door to emerge behind her.
There’s a brief pause, some mild cursing, during which Carrie gets her breath. Then suddenly the door behind her is hit by a heavy tail, falls over, and out steps one very irritated dragon with a bandaged snout. “Ye’ll pay for that, wee mousey lass!”
“Well, you have to catch me first!” Carrie shoots back, and makes a break for it down the hall.