Emry

The Mire is a tough place. Dragons pass through to train and collect spoils all the time, but it's very clear to everyone with common sense that entering the Mire without a guide or form of protection can spell death for the average dragon. And Emry, who was born in the place, had to learn how to adapt from a young age.
It struggled, of course, but survival is the core of the Plague. Self imposed regulations against seeking shelter with nearby dragons or beastclans made it feel stronger. Wasn't that the point? Wasn't the point of surviving and adapting to just get stronger? It didn't go through pain for no reason, it was all a test!
But as the years dragged on, and battle after battle left deep scars in its hide, and magically affixed armor made it heavier and bulkier, it began to lose its faith in its own ideology. Fighting wasn't easy anymore. Passing dragons were no longer willing to pay it for safe passage, instead favoring younger and fitter fighters. The beastclans' trades were wearing thin as its offerings became old fashioned. And it wasn't long before it had its first loss in many, many years.
Emry expected to be consumed by the giant wartoad that felled it. What it wasn't expecting was to be saved. And yet...
The dragon that saved it was more insect than ridgeback, and offered no explanation for her actions. Even when Emry berated her for being foolish enough to defend a stranger, she only hummed and offered healing supplies. It was deeply, deeply confusing to it.
The ridgeback never left her after that. She made brief excursions to collect food and potions, but she never left for good. When she started speaking to Emry, it was all done in short phrases. "Yes, no" and, eventually, "You're beautiful". Which was surprising to hear, certainly. But hearing it from its usually stoic companion made Emry's heart melt into a mire-appropriate acid pool of affection.
Now the two are never seen apart, with Emry taking more care of itself, if only for Fall's happiness.