The Ice Dragon

It took a thousand years, a thousand beams of moonlight to bring the ice dragon back from the frozen dead…
The ice, slowly, softly melting, dripping snow icicles from his frozen wings. Carefully, he picks his claws up from the blanket of the pure white snow beneath him. He opens and closes them, claw by claw and repeats this process holding them in front of his beady blue eyes. He turns his head to his wings and flutters them frustratingly.
The stars glow above him in the misty lit sky and he examines them, confusion over powering him. Does he even remember what they are?
In time, he begins to walk, stumbling every now and then, like a child taking its first steps. The ice crunches like fallen leaves in the beauty of autumn. A ghostly tree stands alone and he approaches it with great care and intensity. He sharpens his snow-covered claws on the bark and bites into the bristly branch drawing drooling, glossy crimson blood with his fang-like teeth. It pours from his mouth like venom.
Looking more like a vampire he growls, causing a shaken echo across the land. He spreads his heated wings and breathes vibrant, scarlet fire setting the innocence of the tree ablaze. The radiant phoenix wrapping around the choking braches. The tree rapidly collapses like a dog in heat. The toxic fire melting the snow and the little remaining ice from the angry ice dragon....