The ice dragon hides somewhere in my neighborhood. I can hear his roar in the wind outside. I can see his scales in the glistening white on the ground. I can feel his breath in the cold that seeps through the walls, into my house, into my bones.

Perhaps he’s lonely, this poor ice dragon. No one else enjoys the bitter cold like he does. I should try to find him and keep him company. So I put on my thickest sweater, warmest scarf, adventuring coat, adventuring shoes, and wool hat. I hope he’s a friendly dragon.

But it is so bitterly cold… No, stop it. This will be exciting. A snow adventure.

But where does one look for an ice dragon? It’s as though he’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, in everything and in nothing in this painfully white world.

There are treacherous slopes to journey down.

The ice-covered ground cracks dangerously beneath my feet.

Everything is so blindingly bright… How will I ever find him?

Perhaps he’s in the trees? No, don’t be silly. An ice dragon is too large to hide in trees.

Oh look, here’s a little friend to show me the way.

And the way is dark, infected with shadows and hidden creatures. But I can’t turn back now. Not yet.

Is he hiding in the back yard? Is around this tree, that mountain of white in the distance?

Oh no, I can hear him. He howls and screams, as though he’s in pain. His roars send the wind rushing about me like a hurricane.

And then suddenly everything is quiet. I can’t see him anymore. I guess he doesn’t want company after all. Maybe ice dragons enjoy solitude.

So I travel back inside and hang up my coat, hat, and scarf. My snow adventure is completed.

When I take off my shoes, my feet and toes are all numb, stiff beneath my socks. I suppose I should have picked better adventuring shoes.