Beginning of a fantasy story!

This one's got potential. Serious potential. This is only about a third of what I've actually written thus far, no less.


Standing outside his family’s hut, a small, brown-haired boy of fourteen stared at the sky. Silhouetted by the blood-red sunset were two massive shapes, creatures with giant, slowly beating wings. They were approaching at an angle, as though planning on reaching the edge of the village and continuing on. The boy watched as they neared, utterly transfixed.
One of the things opened its large maw, allowing for a burst of noise to erupt. The boy fell to his knees, covering his ears and slamming his eyes shut. The sound just continued. How much breath did these things have? Then it stopped. The boy opened his eyes, looked around, and collapsed again as the other one started with the roar. The things were circling the village, only high above. From below, the boy could hear the massive wingbeats, air rushing at him steadily. He stared upward at them.
One look was all he needed to be terrified for a lifetime. These monstrous things were beautiful, yet made him believe he was not going to survive the day. Easily thirty feet long, and the tail another fifteen, one’s scales were a black that did not reflect the sunlight, while the other had a shining red hue. Suddenly, the boy remembered some of his father’s war stories. These were dragons.
Each had four powerfully built legs, which they held slack underneath them. These legs all ended in sets of claws, four sharp-looking and then the particularly vicious thumbs. The black dragon’s small eyes glittered gold, while the red’s significantly larger ones also happened to be red. Presumably steering them, balancing them, and also used as weapons were their tails, giant in their own right. On the ends were spikes, effectively making clubs.
Again one, this time the red, opened its mouth. The boy slammed his hands onto his ears, but the dragon didn’t release noise. It released fire. The moist dirt paths dried and blackened from the sheer heat of the blast. The huts on the north side of the village were shrouded in flame, already shriveling like leaves caught on fire. The grass on one side charred, while the trees on the other withered and also caught. The black dragon roared again and together, the two continued on, exactly on the path they had been traveling before.