Elessar

Mirrors are a primal breed. They revel in the hunt and chase after prey, devouring their own body weight on a monthly basis. They live for the hunt and the adventure. Their packs are never really stable, with dragons flowing in and out like the ebbing of the tide. They never stay in one place.

Above all, mirrors are not known for self-reflecting. A mirror can growl and hiss and bite all it wants, but mirrors are not known for self-reflecting. A mirror can travel on their own for months at a time, defying the very core of their nature, yet still, mirrors are not known for self-reflecting.

Mirrors can self-reflect.

An injured mirror can self-reflect while nestled in the soft coolness that a mossy bed provides. She can refrain from gnawing at her bindings and her bleeding arm, rest and breathe and fidget, and she can think while a dragon watches over her safety.

She can rejoin the hunt only to leave just as swiftly. She can recognize when her arm doesn't move the way it used to, how it hurts especially worse on stormy days, how she can no longer lay comfortably on her left side without a nagging ache to pester her. And it was a shame, too--she liked sleeping on that side.

She can identify that she's changed, that she isn't made for the hunt--not anymore, at least--and she can self-reflect. She can re-assess her needs and try to make do with what she has.

Elessar has learned many things over the months. And among them, she's learned to self-reflect.