The poor beast flew round and round above my head in considerable distress.

But he only had time to gasp before the beast flew around the curve in front of him.

Then the huge beast flew on, screeching and belching out flames.

No matter how fast a car could be driven, a mythical beast could fly faster.

The black beasts were rising into the air and flying eastward.

No beast, no bird will roam or fly with the joy of a free heart.

He pulled the trigger, and the beast flew back, howling.

The loyal beast flew on all night, never straying from the course its master had set.

At any moment they can make it rain, make flowers grow and beasts fly.

The wings began to beat, and the grotesque beast flew above the waiting armies.