Ember nudged along the rock.

He'd just gotten back from Tunnel J, and he was physically weary--though mentally alert. The tunnel had lots of scrap inside. He'd hoped to find something cool, like the old dragonscale helmet he'd picked from the rubble many cycles prior, but he'd been unable. He'd found only bits of useless metal, some of it so rusted that at his touch, it'd turned to red dust.

That was okay; he was a patient creature, and he was pleased merely to roam about and explore.

Now, he was settling himself back into his 'workshop,' which was to say, a mostly empty den not too far from the Throne. There was a big chest--old and worn leather and wood--levitating an inch or two off the ground close by. Inside that he had his few belongings. To one side was a whetstone, warm to the touch and glowing with a soft, fiery light.

"Next time, maybe," he said, addressing the chest. He was a lonely sort, and he imagined, somehow, that not giving something to the chest today must somehow disappoint it. It wasn't a serious thought, just a pleasant little fantasy, and he turned away with a faint smile curling black lips.

He coiled his huge body, fur alternating with shining white scales, into the space; wings folded across his back, and he lay massive head on equally massive paws and rested.