Fights rarely last long, even fights to the death. It seemed endless, but it was less than five minutes before the whirling flaming clawing heap of dragon sorted itself out, with Daverak dead underneath and Sher, scorched and bleeding, standing triumphantly above. Selendra rushed forward at once to lick the victor’s wounds. Before Avan’s eyes as she pressed herself against Sher’s side she blushed like a bride, from an even gold to a glorious and shining rose pink.
The magic of good storytelling is that the reader _cares_ when Selendra changes color here, and understands why it's a big deal.
