The obvious answer to that question is, of course, 'when they aren't dragons.'

On closer inspection, under the celandine -- flower standing tall and bright, like they've been freshly watered -- there are sharp, four-toed tracks bigger than the span of Childermass's hand. Perhaps oddly for their size, they aren't very deep, as though whatever left them wasn't as heavy as its size might indicate, or as though it only stepped lightly enough to leave the barest impression on the ground.

The trail seems to head towards the jagged rocks that climb skywards. Here, only a few stubborn celandine plants cling, forming a loose path up along a makeshift trail. Whatever was here, it's sought higher ground.