Lichen

They don't always know who they are. All that beats in their head, steady as their heart, is honor and respect for the dead. Lichen arranges every beautiful ceremony before a dragon is sent off to serve under the Windsinger, every preparation of the body of a fallen warrior. It can take days. They lavish care and attention over every body, as if the dragon within had never been there. Perhaps it stems from coming from a place where death was so commonplace, where the bodies were piled for mass graves, no care being taken to them. Lichen doesn't know, only that they must do this, that they were created for this duty.

Their mother was a scientist. They never knew their father, as their parents had met during an expedition and Lichen had been born when they returned home. Their two siblings had been born weak and sickly and fell ill and died days after being born. Their mother was rarely around after that, off on expeditions to the Wyrmwound, only returning home when she was too sick to continue. Lichen, mysteriously, never fell properly ill, though they cared for their mother and the rest of the sick dragons. Still, they would often walk into a den or pick something up, only to forget what it was for. It is so easy to lose your mind surrounded by death. Eventually they couldn't take it anymore, and without so much as a note for their mother, flew from the territory. They've since forgotten their family completely.

Though Lichen cannot remember anything, they will always listen with the utmost sincerity to their Clanmates' woes, offering the best advice they can. They are skilled with the use of herbs and their den is a fragrant and pleasant place to spend an afternoon talking, though Lichen will likely forget about you by tomorrow. Still, they are a dragon with an excellent heart, only trying to do what they think is best.