Ice Dragon (Photo credit: Gerry Balding)
He blew his nose and got a nosebleed. With a ball of cotton pressed against one nostril, he leant back and sighed. He could not smell the hot cocoa beside him, but the taste was still in his mouth and he felt that it had helped slightly. As he shivered, he considered reading a bit more, only his eyelids were getting so heavy, and he was still waiting for the dragons.
The sound of cars driving past his window turned into a nondescript rushing in his ears. Then things began moving behind his eyelids and he saw them, dragons, blue ice dragons with breath that smelt of hot cocoa but turned one into an icicle. And he felt like he had been waiting for the dragons all his life.
A Bolg? 