Rat

Rats. Hardy creatures. Pests. Hard to get rid of, easy to attract.
They named themselves Rat because they thought those traits were admirable. They wished they were hardier. They wished they were as clever and cunning as the rats were.
Traverse Town was a warm place. A safe place. They didn’t know how they’d ended up there, just that they had, with a set of thief’s tools and a change of clothes and nothing else to their name. Or lack of one, since they hadn’t even had that.
They wandered and eavesdropped. This world was the cumulation of destroyed worlds; of places that no longer were. They wondered if that was what happened to them. Had their memory been destroyed with their world?
As they wandered, they caught sight of a board. Pages were plastered all over it; all reading “WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE”. They stopped and stared at one in particular; long hair, wings, and sharp golden eyes that pierced into their soul. A far cry from Rat’s own soft red eyes and strange, hollowed out wings, wings that would never fly, for there were too many holes in them. This person felt familiar. Who were they?
They stayed there for a long time. They befriended the locals, they practiced their fighting. They stayed at a hotel and read the wanted persons board over and over, always coming back to the same picture.
One day, new travelers arrived. Burrowers, they were called. Rabbit holders. Warrens. One approached them, with an offer. “We’ll give you a place to stay and call home if you help us out.”
Traverse Town was nice, but it wasn’t home.
Rat accepted, and when they left, they took the wanted poster with them.