[ The fact this was what he'd been thinking about to avoid focusing on all the other horrible problems he'd had to face immediately before being dragged to the Moira was a convenient coincidence.

When she asked about the Scorching though his momentary exuberance deflated. He shrunk back, head lowered. ]

Er- well, you see, the Scorching was a major historical event, when the first dragons banded together to attack the humans that were killing them for their treasure. There, um, weren't many that survived. It's rare to see any these days. On Pyrrhia, that is. Not here, at least, I imagine. Not- um, not counting the crew, I mean. Obviously.

[ He was getting increasingly flustered, rushing through the sentences. The last thing he wanted was for the humans on board to think he was dangerous and attack him. Or realize that until he had come aboard and been given a translator it had never occurred to him humans were intelligent enough that he could be having a conversation with one. ]