At some point, Draco must have spotted her sprinting about the snow the best she could. He personally had not moved much to chase the ice and snow back, save a bit from the places he may have stopped to rest. It was cold and, even with the warmth he could muster from his own flame, it made him sluggish, grouchy. In the case of Pod, however, he stirs from where he is. In a poor mood he might be, but never enough to ignore the plight of a young lady.

Wings stretch out, joints creaking in protest, thanks not only to age, but now to chill. He ignores it, though, and takes flight. Soon enough, Pod will find her help. It comes in the form of a great shadow stretching across the snowy ground that overtakes her, passing her by and then growing when the beast it belongs to comes in for a landing. Landing in the snow is just as unpleasant as he imagined and so he grimaces on touchdown, but, well, here he is.

One fire-breathing dragon, cold, slightly annoyed.

He grumbles something under his breath, cursing the snow, but he'll look less severe when he turns towards Pod, giving her a nod of his great scaly head and saying, "You seem to be in a rush, lass. What could be so important that you would be out in this weather?"