Bronzeclaw

Where could they have gone?
The young Mirror male trotted out of the thick undergrowth and looked around for any sign of his Pack. The Eldest had told him he needed to go into the woods and look for food, so he had been doing just that for nearly an hour. When he could find no trace of anything to eat, however, he was forced to abandon his search, and re-trace his steps back to the clearing where his Pack had left him.
Perhaps they had gone looking for food, too, and were going to return soon? The young Mirror's crests perked at this as he sat down obediently in the middle of the clearing. Perhaps if he just sat here and waited, they'd come back soon.
Yes. They'd come back soon. That's what he had to believe.
It had been many long years since that day. The Pack never returned for the young Mirror male, and after many days of trying to convince himself it was simply a mistake, he gave up. He knew what had happened: his Pack had abandoned him. Perhaps he was simply too slow for their liking, or too clumsy, or didn't catch enough prey. Either way, they had gone and left him behind to fend for himself.
And fend for himself he did. He was doing a pretty good job of it, if he said so himself. Perhaps one day, he might even lead his own Pack, to replace the one that had left him. He liked the thought of that.
Most of the days passed uneventfully for him. It was usually just the same thing, over and over, endlessly. The sun rose and set each day without prejudice, and every day he wandered the lands of Light, searching for a place to settle for the night and hunt during the day. It was a boring, if pleasant way of life. Predictable.
That was, of course, until the day he met her. The one who would change his life forever.
A battle with an angered Greatshell had left him with a wounded leg, and the Mirror limped across the dusty remains of a platform, searching for a place to rest as he always did. He'd likely need to stay off of the leg for a few days, but hunger gnawed at him. He hadn't eaten the day before, and now hadn't eaten today. He'd have to resort to scavenging if he was going to get by.
The male finally spotted a place that he thought would be good to settle in, and headed towards it eagerly. Then, he stopped upon hearing a voice. It was distinctly feminine, and he'd never heard it before. Warily, he sniffed the air, trying to figure out what type of dragon was making the noise. It was a Guardian, and by the scent of it, a female.
It had been so very long since he'd even seen another dragon who hadn't wanted to kill him on sight. Perhaps she would be friendly?
As he got closer to the voice, he could tell she was singing something. The tune was unfamiliar, but it was nice. Gentle. He slid forward through some of the tall grasses on his belly like a cat, tip of his tail twitching as she finally came into view. When she did come into view...
She was beautiful. The most beautiful dragon he could ever dream of seeing.
For a moment, the male was so stunned he couldn't even say anything. He didn't even notice that he himself had been noticed until it was far too late to make an escape.
"Can I help you?"
Her voice cut through his thoughts once more. She'd caught him!
"Ah -- I --" he started to say, his voice clearly trembling with nerves. "Hi. You're pretty."
A soft laugh drifted from her lips. "You're not too bad looking yourself. What brings you around here?" Her eyes traveled down to his leg, sloppily dressed from an old wound. "Are you hurt?" Realizing she was looking at the old wound, he tried unsuccessfully to hide his leg behind him.
"Oh, uh -- it's nothing, it's fine," he lied, laughing nervously. "It's just an old wound that isn't really healing, but it'll be fine. I'll just give it a few days, I know it'll end up alright."
Even with his reassurance, the female still looked worried. "It still doesn't look good. Are you sure you don't want me to take care of it? I wouldn't mind helping you out."
"Well -- you should at least tell me what your name is," the male replied candidly. "So then we know what to call each other, y'know?"
"Oh! Right, of course, where are my manners." The Guardian smiled and extended her wings in greeting. "My name is Pearlie. I don't have what you might call a Clan yet, but I do travel with another: my Charge, and my son, Kincarron."
He looked surprised. "You have a son? Where's his father?" He was also slightly worried about flirting with someone else's wife, until she started giggling.
"Oh, I found him on my own. There is no father." The Mirror breathed a sigh of relief at that. Pearlie was still studying him intently. "And what is your name?"
"M-my name?" He lowered his crests in shame as he started to realize that he did not truly have a name. His whole life, he had gone without being called much of anything. Sometimes the other Mirrors in the pack would call him "pup", or "child", or "boy", but none of those were acceptable names, he supposed. In a rush, he looked down at his claws, studied them, and then replied, "My name is Bronzeclaw!"
Pearlie looked a little dubious. "Bronzeclaw?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.
The newly-named Bronzeclaw nodded quickly. "Yeah, Bronzeclaw. That's my name. Completely and totally." He didn't think about how suspicious that probably sounded, but in the end it didn't seem to matter, because Pearlie just smiled and nodded anyway.
"Alright. Welcome to my little group then, Bronzeclaw."
He had found his Pack.
(writing credit to littletoes101)