Tris playfully chases Ember up the stairwell that leads to their chamber. The little dragon squeals happily as they run. Tris will never be able to catch her, but the thrill of the chase is all Ember wants. The young dragon jumps up onto the bed as Tris clobbers her, smothering her with tickles until she screams for mercy.
Once they have their fun, Tris walks into the washroom to gather the oils for Ember’s scales. She feels bad that the little dragon itches so much. She had poison ivy once after her father took her into the woods. The rash had been only half of the problem, as Tris couldn’t breathe without setting off a wave of uncontrollable itching.
Tris walks back into the room with a few bottles, only to find Ember scratching her back by rolling around the floor.
“That’s enough, little one. Hop up on the bed and let me help,” Tris says softly, not wanting to scold Ember for something out of her control. She can’t help her wings are coming out.