Beast of Cloud and Claw
On cloud-stacked feet it steals across the sky
ready to stomp the sleeping mountain town.
Its wings kick up a gale force wind to cry
its coming on the morn. It’s swooping down
from on high, its ridged back blots out the sun.
Its shadow falls and blankets the valley.
The temperature drops as it exhales cold,
ice sheathes its talons, winter’s friend rallies,
unhinges its jaw, breathes white fire so cold
it burns; it freezes everything in place.
‘Cept the slayer striding towards the ice-drake.
Magic builds ‘tween her upraised hands; her faces’s
grim. She slings the spell and a white bolt rakes
the beast’s side; clouds boil as it loses mass.
It flies ‘fore she makes another pass.
Prompt courtesy of One Word Photo Challenge: Pick your Own