Frost: Riding Gleam

Frost had fed Gleam deer meat every day for a few weeks, and decided he was big enough for flight. She had consulted Amelia a few times for taming Gleam's feral instincts, and she recommended creating a physical and mental bond between them.
His wings were still raw from hatching, but they were strong enough for flight. He was too small to carry her bulk, of course, but she wanted to train the dracling to fly.
To fly.
"Okay, Gleam, its time to fly!" Frost said on a breezy day. She tried to act excited, but their bond was strong enough for Gleam to notice her half-heartedness.
"Let's just get to the point, okay?" grumbled Gleam, his iridescent scales gleaming in the rays of light.
Without warning, Frost threw him up in the air. As he fell down, Frost cried:
"Flap your wings! Extend them and flap them!"
Gleam closed his eyes, thinking he was going to go splat, but as if he was pre-programmed by a master programmer he started to flap his young wings.
Light bounced off his wings as he started to glide among the sparrows looking for a decent nest.
"I can fly!" he exclaimed, eyes twinkling with awe at the puffy clouds and the beauty of Frost's castle.
Frost clapped, smiling at her dragon.
"Of course you can, Gleam, its called natural instinct. You're a water dragon, so swimming is a better attribute of yours, but flying is decent enough to carry three Jamaasians safely." Frost said. She flicked a Dragon-O treat to Gleam, and he caught it with a somersault in midair. 
"Whee!!!!" he cried, eyes gleaming with delight as he pounced on a robin, taking it down with a rake of his claws.
Frost smiled.
As he landed, he offered the carcass to Frost.
"No thank you, eat it yourself. Mira's servants supply me with enough perks to not need any other food." Frost said. "Taste the great taste of fresh-kill, Gleam. Trust me, you'll like it."
Gleam sniffed the meat cautiously, as dragons should do, then bit it. He smiled a toothy grin.
"Good? It's great!"
Frost looked at Gleam pumping his little fist in the air like he just ran a mile without any breaks or water. One day, she thought, she could ride him into battle like a badass, slicing phantoms and using Gleam to blowtorch the stragglers with strong blasts of seawater. His fin-wings, however, needed some rest.
Without warning, she dragged him inside to sleep alongside her on their bed.