This is a concept contest, you are to tell me about the history and personality of the cat you'd like to win, as well as respond to a short prompt. These cats must join ShadowClan.
Though each prompt poses a question, I don't want you to outright answer it by just telling me. Paint me a picture with words of the anwser.
Prompt 1
A kit has strayed out of the nursery and into the night. For some reason, you're the only one to notice as the kit slips out of camp out of the notice of the sentries. What do you do?
Prompt 2
On a routine boarder patrol, you scent a foreign cat. The patrol finds the remains of fresh-kill with the scent. How does your cat react, what action do they take?
If neither prompt speaks to you, feel free to write your own mini-RP that demonstrates the cat's intended personality. Try to keep it around 700 words
You have until Tuesday the 24th to respond. You may not gift/proxy these, since it is an RP-based contest. You can, however, take home two cats from this event.
Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2014 7:41 am
Prizes
1 [by Day Drops] 2 [by Day Drops] 3 [by StarrySeas] 4 [by StarrySeas] 5 [by Day Drops] 6 [by Day Drops]
History: He was born from a queen that would not disclose who she mated with. He was one of three, but as a baby, a fox had attacked the champ and in the panic, him and his two sisters ran from the Queens den. He barely remembers it now, but in the end. the fox took his sisters and he was the only one to survive his litter. He aspires to be a warrior of Shadowclan! To fight all others and be loyal to his leader and clan.
Personality: He is pushy and somewhat a jerk sometimes. kinda a know it all. He will not turn away from any challenge and he is still foolish because of his age. He is honest though and blunt. His personality would be very different if he were to have an interest in a female. In that case he would be terribly protective of her and she would be one of the few to see his pleasant side.
Prompt Response: prompt 1:NightEyes didnt sleep easily at night, it was too captivating. He was fresh in the Apprentices den and was sitting at the entrance. The fur stuck up over his shoulders as his stormy blue eyes looked about, seeing no one else saw that a kit was straying off into the night! Being an apprentice and a fresh one, who hasn't been given a mentor yet, he should not go out of the camp at night either. But he really didn't care! He slipped along the edges on the camp until he was free to dash out the opening. His dark leopard pelt made the cover of night most concealing. He ran with his mouth slightly open, letting the smell of the kit pass between his fangs. The Kit didn't get far, and it complained as it was picked up. He was no queen and wasn't the most gentle on the kit's scruff. "Be still you idiot!" he mumbled at the kit as it mewled pitifully. He turned and started to pad back with it in his teeth, he only dropped it twice. The kitten was rather upset by the time he came padding back in. Others saw him and he was approached by one of the night watch warriors " What are you doing out there? are you ill or did you honestly.." the warrior paused when she saw him flop the kit to the ground and pin his ears back, glaring up at her. " I figured sense you were too busy sharing tongues with that overstuffed hairball over there to be bothered with a kit running off.. SO I did something about it myself." He spat. she started to reprimand him again but he would listen. she was not his mentor so the way he saw it, he didn't have to. So he kinda plopped the kit in front of the Nursery din and gave it a swat, making it stumble in. "And STAY there!" He spat again. Than turned grumbling to himself "stupid little fox dung, always running off. idiot queen can't watch her own kits.." grumble grumble.
Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2014 10:53 am
Name: Bluepaw / Bluedapple (#6) History: Bluepaw was the last kit born to a litter of five, much to their mother's dismay. Being the youngest, and also slightly smaller than her litter mates, she grew up feeling that she had a lot to prove. She did her best to be a promising kit, or at least as much as her tiny kitten attention span would allow her. Personality: Bluepaw tries to act older than she is, offering to take on as many apprentice tasks as possible. Sometimes she goes too far, overdoing it, causing her to have to skip out on training lessons because she 'lends her paw' to too many promises at once. Prompt Response: #1
Bluepaw fidgeted in her nest, blue eyes peering out of the apprentice's den. Her mind raced with so many things she just had to get done the next day. The nursery needed to be reinforced, the elders needed new moss in their nests, the apprentice den could use some cleaning as well.... So many thoughts crossed her mind that the listless she cat couldn't will herself to sleep even if she tried.
With a soft groan, she flopped over onto her side....and the flopped back over again. No matter which way she turned, nothing was comfortable and in the end she decided to wake up and bathe in the moonlight so as to not disturb her fellow apprentices. Once outside, the moonlight oddly energized her and she happily let the silver rays soak into her pelt. A pink tongue darted out to swipe across her paw. A soft purr rumbled in her throat. And then she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye.
A kit from the nursery, sneaking out in the middle of the night. Her whiskers twitched and a smile crept over her face. She remembered those days well, trying her best to resist such temptation. Staying absolutely still, as the kit seemed too preoccupied to notice her, she watched as he sniffed around a bit before disappearing through the camp exit. Her tail tip twitched, but she figured whoever was on guard would catch the kit and be bringing it back to the nursery any second now.
But the seconds flew passed, soon a few minutes and the kit had not returned. Darting forward, Bluepaw slipped through the camp exit, looking around only to find whoever was on guard had their attention distracted. Hissing, she flicked her tail. "Mousebrain..." she sighed, parting her jaws to taste the air. The scent of the kit was fresh and strong, thank Starclan it hadn't wandered farther.
Heading off in the direction of the kit's sent, Bluepaw found the kit huddled and frightened, not too far from camp. He was so small and ill experienced with the forest that he couldn't find his way back, things were just too big and daunting to him that it frightened him more than anything. Purring, she mrrowed in amusement as she drew her tongue across the kits head to sooth him. "Maybe you will think next time before sneaking out?" she meowed gently, scooping the kit towards her with a paw. With the kit nestled firmly beneath her belly, she glanced around at the expanse of Shadowclan territory, remembering her first time out of the camp, how new yet strange everything seemed.
"Maybe tomorrow....I'll ask my mentor if we can take you out for a little bit." she purred, glancing back down at the kit. "But only if you come quietly back to camp now. Your mother will be worried." she meowed, ears pricking forward at the kits excited promises and squeaks. Standing up, she gently nosed the kit back towards back towards the camp, through the entrance and watched as he slipped quietly back into the nursery. With a feeling of relief, Bluepaw then let her weary paws lead her back to her nest, circling once before nestling back down and finally falling into a fit-less sleep.
History: Silverstream was born the only kit to a Queen who was never able to have any other kits. In her eyes he was a miracle given by Starclan to Shadowclan, and as thus was groomed to be unwaveringly loyal. Growing up, he treated the Clan laws as his breath of life and looked down on anyone who skirted them even a hair. His mentor found great pleasure in training Silverstream as the cat was always willing to listen and learn. With such a fierce loyalty he found his apprenticeship to be a breeze and was just recently named a Warrior.
Personality: Silversteam is loyal to his clan and the clan laws almost to a fault. He looks down on those who ignore even the simplest of laws even if you're doing them for the 'good of the clan'. In his mind, the laws are for the good of the clan. He's highly prejudice against kittypets and rouges, finding them to be abominations with no law to guide them. You don't have to worry about him if you're in Shadowclan and good about keeping yourself out of trouble. To those in his clan he's a hardworking- now Warrior- who will do anything within his power to protect his family.
Prompt Response: Prompt #1
Silverstream sat in the middle of the camp's clearing. He tilted his head back proudly as the rest of his clan slipped into their den's for the evening. He had just been named a Warrior which meant it was time for his vigil. He'd have to sit here all evening and protect his clan, without speaking a word. This was the proudest moment of his life and knew it wouldn't be a problem for him. It helped he was the only one this evening, but even so he wouldn't dare open his mouth and break the vigil. His whole clan was counting on him.
He watched the moon as it slid across the sky. Everything was quiet that evening except for some of the nocturnal bugs that were singing his praises. He puffed out his chest proudly, even if it was all in his head. He had been dreaming about this night for many moons now and he'd make sure he enjoyed and remembered every moment of it.
His thoughts were shattered when his ears twitched at a sound. His head snapped to the side just in time to catch the back end of a kit pushing through the wall of the camp nearest to the nursery. His fur stood on end in alarm at the sight and he was instantly on his paws. He opened his mouth to call out to the kit, but slammed it shut. He wasn't suppose to speak, and as the guardian that evening he would have to be the one to do something about it.
He raced out of the camp, rage filling him to his core. Did this kit not know this was clearly against clan rules? Well, he was young, so was the Queen to blame? He quieted his thoughts as he came around the side where the small kit had wiggled its way through. He sniffed the area before lifting his head to catch the trail by letting the night's scents fill his mouth. Once he had narrowed down the kit's scent he began to follow it. He took an urgent pace, but padded along silently to not arose any owls or other night predators to his presence.
Thankfully he had responded in a timely manner and the trail ended not too far off. He paused by a bush and pushed it over with a paw to reveal a small kit. It was trembling violently which cooled his burning anger to a dull heat. He knew it would need to learn its lesson, but now wasn't the time. It obviously understood well enough why it shouldn't be out here. The kit stared up at him with wide eyes waiting for something to happen.
Silversteam opened his mouth to speak to the frightened stiff kit, but again had to close his mouth. The words drowned themselves in his throat causing a growl to erupt instead. The kit leapt up in fear of his growl and Silversteam had to quickly paw the kit to the ground before he could take off running. He tried desperately to motion back towards the camp with his head and tail, but the kit seemed too scared to understand what was going on. Why this night? The night he couldn't speak to calm the kit down, the night he was suppose to sit proudly in the camp, the night where he was suppose to be doing Warrior duties not chasing kits in the night! His ears twitched in annoyance.
Finally the large Warrior rolled his eyes and picked the kit up by his scruff. If the kit wasn't going to come on its own it would just have to come by force. He began to waddle his way back towards the camp, attempting to not swing the kit so hard it would hit one of his front legs. The kit had protested at first, but was now a limp passenger. Silverstream sighed glad for the silence at last, and especially when he made it back to the camp. He set the kit down in front of the nursery and nosed it till it crawled back inside. He would have liked to have told it he would be talking to its mother in the morning, but, well, he couldn't.
He made his way back to his spot in the camp's clearing and plopped down. He huffed a sigh and sat straight again though this time there was a weariness to him. A soft purr rumbled through his throat as he stared up at the sky again. He had managed an incident all on his own and kept to the rules. It must have been a special task from Starclan, he thought as he stared up at the bright pelt in the sky. He had passed, he was sure, and now would enjoy the rest of his vigil in silence.
Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2014 6:04 pm
Name: ShadePaw ( to be ShadePelt #3) History: ShadePaw was a quiet kit, never really playing with her siblings much, but always finding something useful to do. She loved listening to the Elder's stories and helping the Apprentices with caring for them. Being a kit that was born late in the year, she grew up during leafbare, and was sickly because of it. She didnt want to take from her siblings and her mother, so she would watch at times as they suckled greedily. Tho she was hungry, she would wait until they sleps and tried to get what was left. The nights were cold and her three siblings took what there was of their mother's warmth. She did fall dreadfully ill at some point, and they were not sure she would make it. The medicinecat and her mother did what they could and as time went on, she did slowly recover. Now she is old enough to have a mentor! Those scrawny days behind her, for now she is as healthy as can be!
Personality: selfless, kind, obedient, smart but not a bit shy. Always hungry to learn!
Prompt Response: Propt 1. The sun had been set a while now, and this was her first night away from the nursery. The moon was bright and almost full as it loomed in the sky, surrounded by the glint of her ancestors.In the moonlight she watched the night watch go about their work, aspiring to become one of them someday. A small bit of movement caught her attention just outside the camp. A kit! Oh no! she thought to herself and for a moment she started towards the camp entrance when her paws slowed. she couldn't go out there too. it would just endanger then both! She turned and called out an alarmed yowl to all who could hear in the camp "A KIT! A KIT IS ESCAPING THE CAMP!" Her voice was clear and rang with urgency. With out much pause two warriors left to find the kit, and there she waiting, claws kneading the dirt. she wanted to go, but she knew better. all she could do us utter a prayer to StarClan in hopes they would bring the kit back safely.
Name: Frostgaze (#1) History: As a Clanless kit of four moons, he was found in the forest. It is believed that he was the wayward kit of a rogue or loner. The Clan, abiding by the Warrior Code, took him in and was placed under the care of a Queen who's litter had been lost not two days before. He proved a talented and strong kit and when he came of age, he was a great Apprentice. He took a little while to improve himself, but he could see and instruct his fellow Apprentice's in what they were doing wrong, while their Mentors were elsewhere. Their footing, or their timing, how quickly they ought to roll away from an attack. His only fault, was his coldness in his instruction. He was as unforgiving and ruthless as the Leaf-Fall winds that had brought him to the Shadowclan territory, as cold as the frost that crept over the land in silence as soon as the sun sunk over the horizon. Parts of him believe he was never truly born, like other kits, because of the truth of his disposition, and of the conditions of his arrival to his home. Instead, he was spat out from the forest, with the essence of that night in his blood, in his soul.
Prompt Response: (#1) Frostgaze had awoken that night in the Warriors' Den, blinking his frigid eyes into focus. It was cold, that night. Freezing, and the wind blew onto his fur, through his coat and onto the flesh underneath. He twisted, paws touching the soft ground underneath his comrades. He managed to move out of the den without waking any other cat. Good, he didn't want to have to deal with any of the explanations of why he was getting up, even if it was completely innocent. His mouth opened, dragging the chilly air over the roof of his mouth. No fox, no bear, no prey. Only the scents of his Clanmates.
Wait.
He sniffed again, more determined, and his eyes caught the moonlight as he looked towards the camp entrance. A kit. Wayward, but old enough that its eyes were open and it must have known exactly what it was up to. It waited, the sentries strangely, nowhere to be found, and Frostgaze nearly called out to the kit. But then, he remembered, with the glare of the full moon shining upon him, his own arrival to his clan.
Perhaps...The forest was reclaiming the kit it sent out into Shadowclan all those moons ago.
All the same, he turned back towards the den after watching the last of the furry pelt vanish into the shadows. If the sentries found the kit, then so be it, but he would not meddle with those instances that were in the paws of the celestial ancestors. The kit was in no danger, immediately, and thus called no action from him to intervene. He hoped the kit would succeed, and of course wished Starclan to watch over those clumsy paws, before finally he found a place out of the chilling wind back in the Warriors' Den, and fell asleep. He would find out in the morning whether or not the little one found his way.
Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 12:32 am
Name: Wildstorm (previously Vaudun) #2 History: Born into a feral colony in a Twoleg neighborhood, he was picked up by a Twoleg child and taken into a home where he was given a collar and a name - Vaudun. He lived there for a while, completely unsatisfied with the kittypet lifestyle and not sure what to do about it. He just knew there was something else out there, somewhere else he could be what he was: wild. Then one day something unusual happened. One of the children had left the gate open. It didn't take much else, Vaudun was out the gate in a flash and headed for the woods where he'd heard were clans of cats that lived and fought.
He was not a welcome sight to any of the clans, all of them spurned his kittypet scent and collar. He became a rogue, hunting where he could and fighting when he had to. At least until he met a Shadowclan warrior who beat him into the ground, teeth around his neck. Vaudun was waiting for the warrior to end him, almost happy to go out in a fight, like the warrior he'd wanted to be. But the cat let him go, studied him for a moment, saw the fierce anger and fight still in the ex-kittypet's eyes. And invited him back to his clan. Vaudun was shocked, and let some of it show, but he accepted the invitation and in time, became Wildstorm: a fierce warrior of Shadowclan. Personality: Wildstorm is tough and hates to show emotion to any cat. He tends to stay aloof except in the safety of the clan territory where he relaxes for the most part. He secretly enjoys watching kits at play though he's never had any of his own...yet. He's also never mentored an apprentice, but the thought intrigues him. Prompt Response: Prompt 1.
Wildstorm had been enjoying a relaxing night after patrolling the clan borders, laying out under the moonlight, when he spotted movement where there shouldn't have been. Instantly alert, the dark colored warrior eased to his feet and silently padded toward the movement. Ahh...it was only a kit. Off to find an adventure, he supposed. He'd seen this particular kit before, watching the warriors and apprentices. She was a fierce little thing in play fights with other kits, usually pinning her opponent to the ground with ease.
But now, there was no one else, just her, sneaking out into the night. The sentries had missed her, something he would be pointing out the next day, and he was the only one who was following her. He wondered where she was off to when it suddenly became obvious. She was trying to hunt. How cute...and dangerous. There were things out at night that would have the tiny kit as a snack. But she was trying, and even succeeding a little, tracking a mouse out late. He watched her slip into a pounce stance...not awkward, but nowhere near perfect. She stalked like a kittypet: rear end up in the air and tail waving. Might as well yowl and tell the mouse she was coming.
He watched her for a bit longer as she continuously failed to catch anything. He was going to let her tire herself out when he heard a faint rattle. Snake. One of the things that could have her as a snack. Time to go. Without a word, Wildstorm launched himself from his hiding place behind the kit and picked her up by the scruff of her neck, ignoring her yowls of surprise and pleas to let her go. He grabbed her and a moment later, fanged jaws snapped on empty air where the kit had been. He wasted no time getting them out of there.
Once inside the clan territory once again, Wildstorm dropped the kit and gave her a stern glare. "Keep to the territory until you're old enough to become an apprentice," he said and stalked off as the queen watching the kits herded her back inside. He would have to keep an eye on that particular kit...perhaps ask to be her mentor when she came of age.
As a kit, she was rambunctious and loud, commenting on anything and everything, always having make her opinion known. It became clear very quickly that she just let loose whatever popped into her head, and despite valiant efforts on her mother's part and complaints from her two brothers and single sister, she never learned to not speak her mind. After, all what was the sense in that? No one could read ehr thoughts so she had to speak them out loud so others heard, right?
It was a dark day in the nursery the day Stormkit learned of the less savory language that existed, meant to express frustration or the degree of another's stupidity. She got quite the scolding when her father came to visit while their mother was sleeping and Stormkit was telling off her brother for complaining about her to mom again.
In her kithood, Stormkit liked to watch the rain fall from the nursery, never allowed to go play in it, held back by her mother's paws. Still she liked the noise of the rain and was fascinated that Starpelt would hide itself and throw tantrums.
As an apprentice, Stormkit practically made her home in the Elder's Den, getting sent there every other day for some commentary a passing warrior took offense to. Joke was on them though because it was the elders that seemed to appreciate her best, amused by her youthful brashness and her explanation from day to day on how she was put on tick duty. The Elder's Den had never been so lively, and while some just wanted their rest, a few welcomed this foul little lady into their midst. It was actually from the tongues of the seniors that she learned worse curses. Then again, there was one elder in particular that took none too kindly to her loud and obnoxious behavior and suggested that a good mouthful of mouse-bile would curb her tongue. Stormpaw and she didn’t get along too well and it created a lasting rivalry that resulted in many shouting matches.
After a particular incident as an apprentice where her tongue slipped and she made some inappropriate commentary about another apprentice's relation with their mentor (yet only in retaliation to their scathing comments about her deplorable attitude), and some rather harsh punishment, Stormpaw began to reel back her speech. For a period of time, she had to be chaperoned at all times, warriors hissed for silence whenever she opened her mouth, her family avoided her at all costs, not wanting to be associated with her despicable behavior, and the elders were ordered to ignore her. It wasn't a pleasant time and it frayed her nerves badly to be so ostracized by her clan. As she grew more and more irate at her treatment, she threw herself into her training, but with an amount of passive aggression that kept her under watch. That and her many attempts to sneak out of camp, the times she did sneak out of camp, and constant hiding game she'd put the warrior on duty to keep an eye on her through.
The times he did escape watch she'd venture deep into the territory and train as best she could by herself until she was found and herded back to camp to get a chewing out for running off.
She began to sympathize with storms, how animals would flee and hide when grey clouds rolled across the sky, blotting out the sun and rumbling ominously. She empathized with how the sky rumbled and roared, despite how many disliked its voice. She took satisfaction in the fact that even though storms passed, they always came back because no one could control or silence them or make them into anything but what they were.
Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore and blew up at her mentor about the treatment during training, raising her voice as he tried to talk down at her and shut her up until she struck out and managed to surprise him. He was stunned by her long enough that she was able to yowl in his face that she didn't do anything wrong, she didn't know why everyone wanted her to change or why no cat liked her and treating her like a prisoner wasn't going to explain it.
The experience actually helped strengthen their mentor-apprentice bond as he came to realize Stormpaw had no clue what was wrong with how she acted. Her distinct lack of understanding was slowly diminished, but she couldn't empathize. She preferred to speak her mind and would like others to do so to her. She finally got an explanation that made it clear to her why she shouldn't let certain things loose. With her mentor's help, she learned to curb her speech, but never seemed to really grasp the idea of filtering her words, so she found it best to keep her thoughts to herself in most cases. The whole experience, while trying and frustrating, helped her grow up and finally got the kind of guidance she needed.
(She finally understands that the allegations she made on her fellow apprentice were wildly inappropriate and against clan etiquette and nearly ruined the mentor-apprentice relation of the other two and it was inappropriate to strike out with as much venom as she had. Didn't regret it though.)
For her insubordinate behavior, she was an apprentice a bit longer than most, but as a nearly grown warrior, she was comfortable in her own fur. Her mentor actually conversed with her and she felt better about who she was took pride that her mind was her own and didn't let anyone take the from her, but understood that there are manners to uphold, feelings to take into account, that she isn't the only one that thought freely, but it isn't her place to judge. She grew up, a lot. Her mentor was very very proud of where she was now and how she'd matured, and you know what? So was she.
Stormchaser never stopped working hard, finding herself still looked down upon by many of her clanmates for her past behavior, and she sought to prove them wrong. Aside from just that, rather than voice what would be taken as criticism, she took it upon herself to take care of the problems she saw by herself.
She holds suspicions that her mentor had a paw in giving her her warrior name, though not directly per say. She had seen him go to the leader's den to talk on multiple occasions, and the habit seemed to start about half a moon before she became a warrior. Stormchaser is almost certain her mentor was reporting her progress to the leader and working on convincing them to let her have her ceremony already. She guessed he had shared some of the details of her and her mentor's talks, where she told him some on how she wanted to follow the dark clouds as they passed sometimes and how she was persistent on picking her own path in life. At least, that is what she though, but thought better than to pry after those particular details, she was pretty sure she was never supposed to see him visiting the leader, especially since she had been spying when she had seen. Oops.
Still, she saw the symbolism and it never failed to make her smirk. She was like a storm, rumbling and loud and unyeilding, impossible to ignore, but storms came and went, transforming into innocuous clods that skittered by on the edge of your attention. She could certainly chase others away in a manner befitting of a storm, but she though it may be more in reference to her unalterable chase of being the storm, proud and loud and nothing but itself. She would chase her own path as a warrior.
Personality: Stormchaser is quite the character, known best for her foul language and kept far away from the nursery for that very reason. She's all rough edges, with pretty much no verbal filter, so she does her best to just keep from opening her mouth but damn if she doesn't slip sometimes. She almost always has a mental monologue going on, sprinkled with curses and excess tangents, but she withholds from letting it out in the open, after finding her thoughts aren't always appreciated. As a warrior, she comes across as a bit harried, and over time has become a bit of a workaholic to let off her extra steam. She tends to take on a larger workload than one cat should handle, but is undeterred from her tasks. She's treated well enough by her clanmates, but she has few close companions, as most are not wont to expose themselves to the litany sure to spill from her maw if given the chance. While she's brash and bold and horribly blunt, she does understand she has a knack for saying things in exactly the wrong way. While she may be fed up with how others can take every little thing as an insult or criticism, she gets that the way she speaks doesn't particularly help matters. Her thoughts are always running in different directions and never seem to stop, and for the most part, she has to keep it to herself lest she receive punishment for unwarranted harassment. Despite the mild dislike for her, she is more than comfortable in who she is, and doesn't take things personally. If she did something wrong, say she did and she will get on it. If she is presented with dislike or aggressiveness, she's gotten to a point where she's hardly phased and makes it clear she could not care less that the cat dislikes her and that their energy could be better expended than bothering her with it. She does her best not to judge cats and accept that they and herself are not perfect, but she knows she's not there yet. She's a bit crass and crude and her sense of humor very near insulting as it depends on one being able to make fun of themselves, but she's hardworking and she values those that bother to get to know her above anything else. The important thing to not about her cursing habit is that it the expletives are used as tools of exaggeration to highlight her feelings on a matter. They’re used as hyperbole, and when she’s in a stressful situation, it worsens. It’s important to understand that she isn’t necessarily saying that you are a dung stench dog kitter, but at that moment, you’re acting akin to one.
Prompt Response: (prompt 1) Twitching violently, Stormchaser jerked awake, the only thought pounding through her mind that there was an opening in the camp border that could let cats spy on the leader’s den that needed. Fumbling awake, she clumped out of the warrior’s den, barely avoiding stomping on a few tails and bodies in her groggy state.
Standing in the middle of camp, she realized that that was a few moons ago now that that exact thought had woken her up and had already been taken care of. Letting out a silent groan, she dropped uselessly to the ground She heard the elder causing a ruckus, the two night sentries struggling to manage the uproar. She considered going over but was distracted when she caught movement from the side of her eyes.
It was too low to the ground to have been any warrior though, or even an apprentice, and nothing was inside camp or else she’d have seen it. Wow, the brambles really needed to be fixed as a large hole was forming. By StarClan, those lousy apprentices were slacking. Wait a second, that wasn’t what she was worried about.
Alright, so she wasn’t fully awake.
After a few more minutes, she lurched to her feet and lumbered towards the entrance. The sentries were tied up and she could pick up their slack. At least that was what she was going to do until she got to the entrance and caught the traces of a soft milky scent that clung to the nursery. Stormchaser stiffened immediately, her brain finally fully waking up.
Movement. Close to the ground. Smells like nursery. Small. Not queen. Kit.
Kit.
She shot off out of the entrance, her legs eating up the ground as she bounded across the pine needle floor, following the nursery scent until another smell began to clog her nostrils. It burned her mouth and fear trilled through her, forcing herself faster as adrenaline flooded her system, eyes wide and frantic as a heartfelt curse escaped her.
“Foxdung,” She hissed, ignoring the irony of the statements because dear StarClan up above, she could smell fox. It was strong and close, just as close as the kit, and another expletive was pulled from her.
Bursting through the underbrush, she was on them now, could feel the snarl spilling from the fox’s maw in her skull as it vibrated through her ears and it’s muzzle opened to show teeth and the kit was just cowering there. Stormchaser barreled straight at the fox, immediately rearing away from the predator after impact and grabbed the kit roughly by the neck and was off again.
The enraged yip of the fox sounded not far behind her and the warrior could hear the creature give chase. Pumping her legs as hard as she could, she kept her maw clamped around the kit’s scruff like a trap, the little body swinging but in no danger of dropping. Her legs straining, Stormchaser decided they’d gone far enough. She kept running towards her target for a moment longer before springing, momentum helping to carry her as she clawed up the nearest tree in the most ungainly scramble. Her neck craned awkwardly to keep from crushing the kit and the extra weight offset her but adrenaline helped her force her aching body to where the fox couldn’t reach.
Perched above the growling fox, the kit held snugly between her and the tree trunk, she let her mouth unclench. In an instant she was spitting down at the fox with every bit of moxy in her blood.
“That’s right, you maggot-brained dung licker, can’t reach us up here!” She spit, the litany of curses spilling from her on every exhale until her breathing was ragged. The fox called and complained and clawed at the base of the tree but could not make its way up, eventually giving up.
As the fox lost interest, so did Stormchaser, already knowing it would wander away and they could return to camp. Turning to stare at the kit, she thought fiercely about the sentries. Oh, she was going to have words with them when she got back.
Blankly, she realized that there was a reason no cat wanted her near their children and oh boy, oh dear, this kit’s mother would have words with Stormchaser when they got back because she couldn’t even remember everything she’d just said in front of the kit.
Judging from the look of admiration and apprehension beginning to ignite as the embers of fear died out, she may yet have a way to salvage this.
Posted: Mon Jun 23, 2014 12:09 pm
Name: Ravenstone (#2) History: The eldest of a large litter, Ravenstone has always felt some sort of responsibility for others. It doesn't help that his mother would put the blame on him if his siblings ran off or got caught doing mischief. HE was the one supposed to be watching them and keeping them in line! It didn't matter if they were all the same age. Because of this pressure, he kept an eye out for his littermates, and continued to do so well into apprenticehood. However, it became hard to juggle that once he fell in love. His siblings got a much-needed break from their overbearing brother as his attention turned to his paramour. Her spunk and sass was enough to keep him on his toes, and she was able to kick some of his controlling nature for a time. That was up until she got pregnant, where he had every excuse in the world to fuss. Not that she let him get away with it much.
Unfortunately, he wouldn't be balanced forever, since his mate would die while his only kit was nearing apprentice age. This immediately pushed his faults into overdrive. Even upon becoming a warrior, Midnightpelt would be under her father's claw, even with her aunts' and uncle's interventions. As she became more and more of an independent adult, Ravenstone was forced to turn his focus to the Clan as a whole, and any patrol he's put in charge of, you better not question his authority if you're not deputy or leader. Personality: Ravenstone is a caring, albeit kind of stern warrior. He also has this habit of keeping tabs on cats, to the point of nearly being smothering and controlling. They should listen to what he says, because he's always doing what he can to look out for them. It's his way or the highway, basically. Prompt Response: [Details on reacting to his mate's death]
Tap tap tap tap. It seemed as if had been raining forever. Night…morning…evening…and night again. As it grew darker and darker, this felt only appropriate. She had died in the rain. With the vigil tonight, if the weather kept up, he could pretend he was there with her. Better than dealing with the rock in his belly, after all. Ravenstone knew he should have been along with her. No, he shouldn’t have let her go at all. If only she had listened to him for once, she’d still be here!
His hackles rose as he stepped out of the warriors den. The downpour drenched him from nose to tail immediately. He just shook it off. Other cats kept silent, turning away from the grieving tom. Many of them knew better. Some saw his lashing tail. It wouldn’t do any good to talk to him. Even his littermates kept away, letting him lumber over to the matted lump of fur in the middle of camp. He could still see some of the white spots on her pelt that wasn’t caked in mud or dried blood. Laying his head on her body, he imagined her breaths. In and out. That rhythm of life. He couldn’t find it nor push it out of her, and he nearly yowled in anger. Why did she have to die on one of the most sacred nights? When the moon was full and there were no clouds? How could StarClan let this happen? He shouldn’t have let her go to the Gathering. Midnightkit should have come first. Her duties to her Clan and their family… But she had gotten so restless. So tired of being stuck in camp for moons on end. The apprentice ceremony was only a couple of days away…there shouldn’t have been any harm in it…or so she said. She was wrong.
He felt something push up next to him. Blinking, Ravenstone glanced to see a dark kit press up to his mate. She looked up at him with big eyes. Breaking the news to Midnightkit had been the worst part. Even now, she looked so confused, and he couldn’t explain it to her any more than earlier that day. How was a father supposed to tell his kit that her mother was killed coming back from a Gathering of all things?
Other cats came. Of course they did. Ravenstone never liked a couple of the cats Nightgaze had kept in her company, but he couldn’t stop her. Nor could he keep them from touching her now, although his claws were sure itching for it. He just nuzzled into her, quietly wishing for her back, cursing StarClan, cursing himself, cursing nearly everything until he let it all out.
Dawn finally arrived for ShadowClan. He was surprised to find that many moons hadn’t passed in the time from night to day. Nothing was so eternal for Ravenstone. Midnightkit’s birth was nearly as long, in his eyes, but this…this was a long, horrid night that stretched on and on. The only good thing was that the storm finally passed somewhere along the line, and he was able to look to the sky for a long while without rain splashing his face. Of course he had to nudge Midnightkit awake, then gently push her along to the nursery. Watching her toddle in, he thought. And he thought. Clearing his throat, he went to find someone of authority.
With the vigil over, and Ravenstone looking more withered than intimidating, some early bird cats muttered their sympathies. Nightgaze was a beautiful she-cat, they remarked. Her passion and laughter would be greatly missed. It was such a shame that she wouldn’t get to see her kit become an apprentice.
Yes, he thought, and more reason for me to be her mentor. She’s all I’ve got left. Ravenstone had let their leader and deputy alike know that he trusted few warriors with his kit as it were, and he was so sure that he could teach Midnightkit better than anyone. This was half a moon ago, while Nightgaze was still alive and purring. Now, more than ever, he needed to be there for his daughter. Letting his mate go was the worst thing he had ever done. He surely couldn’t allow the same for his one and only kit.
With nothing to hold him back, he would keep his kit close to him and him alone.
Name: Dapplebrook (#1) History: While she came from a primarily still-born litter, Dapplebrook was surrounded by kits of other litters who quickly became surrogate siblings. She was a happy kit despite being lonely when they all became apprentices before she did, and only having a single mother to keep her company until she became an apprentice herself. After hearing all the prestige of being a warrior, Dapplebrook found herself terrified of her apprentice training. When she was the kit, the worst she could be blamed for was whining about doing something that could get them hurt, or worse, in trouble, but now? Things were getting out of control. She'd freeze up after getting into a funk, exasperating her mentor to no end. It got to the point that she had to change mentors, and basically go through something like cat therapy. Breathing exercises, controlling her nervous thoughts, and sometimes not thinking at all helped her finally get to her warrior name day. Many cats were proud of her that day, but also quite unsure if she can ever truly fight for her clan... Personality: If social anxiety is a thing for warrior cats, Dapplebrook sure has it. Usually called a "worrywart" (or perhaps worrycat), she's always fussed and fussed. Dapplebrook is worried about unnecessary risks, screwing up, and being humiliated. She's gotten something of a handle of it now, but after any battle, bad hunt, or socializing on patrol, she beats herself up over any little slip-up. Prompt Response: [#1]
Here she was, on another walk. Dapplebrook prayed to StarClan that no one would catch her. Out on her own, without prey in her mouth nor on a border patrol? She was sure she would get yelled at for being so useless. But she had to go out and do nothing useful. Her nerves would overtake her otherwise. It was impossible to breathe in the camp with everyone looking. Or could look at any moment. They would see how hopeless she was. Some might even say something. Maybe someone would defend her, but they didn’t have much reason to. It seemed there were fewer and fewer excuses for her every day. Once in a while she could catch a nice piece of prey, but how about all the times that she screwed it up? Especially with others there to see her dumb mistakes? She was sure she did the same thing over and over. Why couldn’t she ever learn?
Caught up in her thoughts, downwind, and looking at the night sky to boot, the frazzled she-cat nearly stepped on the little kit rushing past her. Instead, all she caught was his little tail. His squeaky yowl was enough to make her jump straight up.
“What- WHAT. I-“ She looked down at the source of the commotion. A little white-and-russet kit, mewling in pain about his black-tipped tail. “F-Foxkit? Oh! Oh, Foxkit, I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t break it, did I?” Dapplebrook fussed and checked it over. “I should’ve looked where I was…oh, foxdung, what is your mother going to think of me when she finds out?”
Foxkit just blinked at her rambling. The little kit was already getting over the smarting pain, and it showed. He was quickly back on his feet, pawing at the larger cat’s tail, giggling.
“FOXKIT. OW, what are you-“ Her eyes widened in horror. It finally clicked. “What are you doing outside of CAMP?” “Oh, shoot! I’m caught!” The little kit turned to run while Dapplebrook stood there, mortified. “Y-you…you can’t just- h-hey, come back here!” Even as she took one step to go after him, her thoughts scurried as well. What if she stepped on him again? How was she even supposed to get him back into camp? “Foxkit!” Should she go tell someone? But how pathetic would it be if she couldn’t even catch a kit on her own? “I’m going to get in so much trouble for this!” she wailed, frozen on the spot. Yellow-brown eyes peeked from the grass. “Why would YOU get in trouble? You’re a grown-up! Grown-ups don’t get in trouble.” He sounded so self-assured. And he was only a few moons old! “W-well. I guess I’m just a bad grown-up, then.” Foxkit blinked. “Um. Hm. I think you’re just weird.” “That too,” she sighed. “Foxkit, you really shouldn’t be out here. It’s dangerous!” She remembered that old queen’s tale about the kit who misbehaved so was swooped out of camp by a hawk. Dapplebrook shuddered. “Doesn’t look dangerous to me. I wanna see what all the warriors get to do that me n’ Larkkit can’t!” “But that’s for warriors. You’re a kit.” “So?” “So…I guess you won’t get to have as much fun as an apprentice if you see everything now,” she said. Normal cats had fun as apprentices, right? She sure wished it had been like that for her. “And you could get hurt! Your claws are teeny-tiny and everything’s bigger than you.” “Not EVERYTHING. Just…most stuff. Are there cool surprises as an apprentice?” “S-sure there is.” The way Foxkit’s ears were perked, maybe she could…? Probably not, but she could try. “But they’re not as cool if you see them before you’re old enough. Oh! And what about Larkkit?” His ears flicked down. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot about her.” “Wouldn’t….wouldn’t you rather do all this neat exploring with her? When you’re OLDER?” He sighed. “Yeah… Guess I wasn’t thinkin’.” Foxkit paused. Then he looked at camp with apprehension. “Am I gonna get in trouble?” “I-…” He looked so upset. What if he did get in trouble? Maybe he’d never want to leave camp ever again! But if she did nothing, he might go out again, and who knows what would happen! “Well. Um. S-sometimes we make mistakes. And others have to know…so we can make the right choices later. Right?” “…So that means I’m in trouble?”
Dapplebrook huffed. Being mature was so exasperating!
Name: Muddypaw (to be Muddymouse) (#4) History: With his mother and litter dying of greencough, Muddypaw was adopted by a she-cat with another litter. However, his father never liked that she-cat (nor did his mother, not that he remembers) but he grew to see her as his mother, and her kits his siblings. The only difficulty was basically having two fathers, and the bad atmosphere that came with his birth father whenever he visited the nursery. Even as a kit, Muddypaw saw how strained things were. His father would try to get him alone to talk 'sense' into him, and despite all the love for his new family, it's nearly worked a couple of times. His only saving grace is how smart his new family is about his father's grudging ways. Even so, Muddypaw's opinions have ping-ponged a few times from outside input. Despite all that drama, he's an excited apprentice, ready to prove himself as a warrior. Personality: Quick on the draw, but gullible. If you talk to him long enough about something you disagree on, you can start to break down his will and sway him to your side, even if your arguments are total bologna (but sound good) Prompt Response: [#2]
“Well, I think we’ve covered marking our scent.” Muddypaw said, light brown paws slightly sore after padding back and forth over a long stretch of territory over and over and over. “And then some, right?” His fellow apprentice asked with a smirk. They had been put on patrol together while their mentors covered another part of the marking a little down the way. Muddypaw just yawned. “You can never be too careful.” “Against rats, maybe.” Robinpaw sneered at the thought. “But who else would attack us? We’ve got a strip of thunderpath between us and the other Clans. They’d be stupid to want to cross that for an attack.” He nodded, thought about it, then carefully asked, “What about the tunnel?” “They don’t know about the tunnel, dungbrain!” Robinpaw, both Muddypaw’s partner apprentice of the day and adopted brother, laughed with a little bit of mockery in his voice. “You think they’d call us ShadowClan if they had that kind of advantage?” the larger brown tom scoffed. “Please. There’s no way anyone would dare crossing the thunderpath, even if we didn’t mark our scents for moons.” “If you say so…” was all Muddypaw could mutter in response. Robinpaw was just so sure of himself. How could he be wrong? They continued their idle chatter as they headed towards their mentors, talking about anything and everything, generally falling into some kind of minor argument on whatever topic it was. Robinpaw was mid-sentence when they stumbled upon the fresh-kill. Mouthing the word mixed with his shocked look was absolutely hilarious. Muddypaw couldn’t keep himself from cackling. Robinpaw just gave him a glaring pout. “I dunno what YOU’RE laughing at.” “Just your face,” Muddypaw snickered, enjoying his moment of comeuppance before smelling the mutilated prey. “Whoa. I thought maybe an apprentice might’ve been lazy with this, but…you scent what I’m getting?” Robinpaw gave his den brother a look, then sniffed for himself. “Ohhhh foxdung. Fox. Dung! No way!” “Yeah way. It’s not any Clan cat you’ve smelled, is it?” Granted, they had only been to one Gathering before. But even then…Muddypaw was pretty sure he’d recognize something about the scent from all the cats he saw that night. Robinpaw shook his head, confirming Muddypaw’s thoughts. “So some intruder’s in our territory?” “Seems like it.” “No way.” “Mmmmhm. Must be one stupidly brave cat.” Muddypaw mumbled, pawing at the bloodied leg as he tried to figure out what to do. His den brother was already getting antsy. It took almost no time at all for his tail to twitch and for him to start pacing. “Well, we gotta show him what for, right? Let’s go get him!” “We don’t know where he is. If we didn’t smell the fresh-kill until just now, then he’s upwind. We’re not.” Very much not, it seemed. “We should get our mentors.” “But that would waste so much time!” “They know what to do, though! We don’t!” “And if we figure it out, we’ll be heroes, Muddypaw! Like in our little kit adventures!” Muddypaw swallowed. That was a low blow, but an intriguing prospect. If they COULD find this rogue…and possibly take him down… “All right, hot stuff.” He said with a nod. “But if we get in trouble for it…” Robinpaw was already running off, but stopped for that comment. He rolled his eyes. “Please. Like THAT’s likely to happen. C’mon, what are you a turtle? We’ve got a rogue to catch!”
(this is my second entry. I prefer #2 over #5, but yanno :U)
Name: Brightpaw (to be Brightfortune) (#5) History: Brightkit was named for the radiant gold pelt he bore, unlike his brothers that took after their mother’s more brown and muddy fur. His brothers, both older and bigger than him were competitive and stubborn and clashed with each other a lot. Brightkit acted as a mediator, doing his best to turn whatever argument they started into a game or cheer up whoever was sulking because mom scolded them. Still, his attitude wasn’t always appreciated. Sometimes his brothers were just too riled up to be calmed down and would turn on him instead. Sometimes they just weren’t in the mood. Still, he tried, never let their grumpy demeanor pull him down, but a stern telling off or too sharp of words would send him into prolonged periods of awkward silence, unsure what to do with himself when he was so unwanted.
Their mother always kept an eye on Brightkit. She loved all three of her children, but Brightkit needed a special eye. He was too genuinely nice and upbeat combined with an innate shyness that would make warrior life tough for him. He’s a born and bred ShadowClanner, he would be a powerful warrior someday, but she was concerned that her beautiful bright beacon might get broken along the way. So she catered to him the most, even though she knew she shouldn’t. He got teased and taunted by jealous brothers and other kits in the nursery, but he took it in stride. Brightkit’s mom told him stories of all the cats she knew of, past ones she’d known and ancient tales. She especially told him of the strength and perseverance needed to survive, whispered life lessons in his ears, and built his walls strong, hoping he could sustain who he was with her blanket of support surrounding his mind.
Brightkit became Brightpaw on a sunny day in leaffall, the sun shining off his well-groomed coat, and his mother was so proud as he touched noses with his mentor for the first time. She prayed to StarClan he’d be okay.
Personality: Brightpaw really takes after his name, with a bright sunny personality that isn’t too common for ShadowClanners. He’s predisposed to optimism, always looking at the bright side, thinking positively. He holds his mother in high regard, keeping her lessons close at heart, and is often teased as a mama’s boy. She always told him to remember who he is and where he came from. To protect his heart from the shadows of the world, to shine light wherever he can. To not be afraid. Of course, that’s all easier said than done, he’s just a new apprentice, he’s young. But he wants to live up to her expectations, to make her proud and happy of who he is. But he is afraid. He tries to stifle it, but he’s so afraid. He’s afraid that he isn't wanted by others, he’s afraid to speak up, he’s afraid he won’t be a good warrior. He’s so debilitatingly scared that sometimes he doesn't ever get to sleep at night, just staring at Starpelt and hoping his ancestors can grant him strength. It's like he can be this bright happy guy, but doubt festers in the back of his mind and if he fall into a mode, his fears go crazy and overtake everything. He’s shy, hesitant of new cats and of intruding, but most times, he forges on anyway and tries to put in his word and tries to cheer up whoever seems gloomy. It’s almost aggravating how optimistic he is, but he backs off when others ward him away and doesn't shove his shiny optimism down your throat. He’s an unobtrusive presence, so most are okay with his presence.He remains hopeful in the face of hardship, impossibly so, because he won’t breath a word of any doubts in his mind. After all, if you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all. Prompt Response: [doing my own prompt, his mother has caught the plague; this is him reacting to that discovery]
He tried. He really tried to think that it'll be okay, it'll get better, but the reality of the situation pressed in around him, stifling and choking.
Brightpaw scuffed his paws lightly on the dirt in front of him, staring unseeingly towards the den on the other end of camp. It’s gaping entry was like the maw of some dark creature that had spawned from the Place of No Stars itself, consuming any breathed too deeply the rancid breath it exhaled. Like a clouded haze of death, the scent of sickness swirled around the monster, caressing those it held in its mouth, its whispers rattling the chests of those it held captive and forcing their bodies to rebel against them.
The sun was positioned in such a way that shadows reached out from the horrific beast that sat deceptively idle in ShadowClan camp. Brightpaw could almost see the dark distended paws reaching slowly across camp, landing on its next victim, claiming their breath as it’s own, causing them to collapse in weakness, choking on the once clean air around them now infested with living death itself as it spread. Invariably it spread and claimed whomever it chose with no regards for those that would be left behind. It did not care that it was taking mates away from each other, mentors from apprentices, or kits from their families.
No, the infestation of rot and death and plague did not care that it was taking his mother.
Because the sickness was not alive, but Brightpaw could imagine it was. He could imagine its gaunt haunting face, sunken in and skin sliding off bone. Gums rotting so sharp spires of fangs stood out against black flesh. Eyes yellowed and sick, their color faded and pupils blown from the engulfing dark that shrouded it. Limbs too long, bones too thin, threatening to break with every movement, to just fall off. Flies flocked around it’s back, laying their eggs in the festering wounds that broke through patchy falling off fur.
It’s dead hopeless eyes turned, meeting Brightpaw’s own and it’s stretched and ruined mouth stretched into a macabre smile, a grin of all teeth, hatred and laughter spilling from it’s tongue as a raspy broken whisper of a voice coiled around Brightpaw’s ears.
“I’m taking your mother.”
Brightpaw gasped, immediately snapping back to reality, his heart rattling in his chest, still frozen to the spot he’d been in when Foxtrot had first padded over to he and his brothers sharing tongues and informed them with the utmost pain constricting his voice that their mother had been moved to the medicine cat’s den. The one that no longer had any healer to watch after it, just a place to put the breathing dead.
He quivered in fear, staring at the imposing entrance to the den his mother was now restricted to (it’s hard to breath), and braced himself (don’t let her see), straightening up his spine as he tried to stand as tall as his short stature could (feeling something crack and shatter on the forest floor as he raised himself to his paws), and put on a shaky smile that steadied as he strode forward (don’t show how scared you are).
He hopes to Starclan that she wouldn't see. He hopes to StarClan she wouldn't notice the spiderweb cracks spreading across his soul.
Posted: Mon Jun 23, 2014 10:58 pm
Name: Russetpaw -> Russetflower #4 History: Russet was born to a rogue mother who never told her who her father was. When her mother died and left the kit alone in the woods, she just just knew she was going to be eaten by a fox or some other unimaginable fate. Leaf-bare was on the way as well, and the nights were getting colder. On a particularly cold night, she fell asleep and didn't expect to wake again. So when she did, and she was warm, she thought she had moved on to StarClan. Once she was awake, she was told that a ShadowClan patrol had found her just inside their territory. One of the warriors, a tom whose litter had just been born, had talked the others into bringing her with them. He'd placed her with his own kits, the queen happy to help a kit who was alone in leaf-bare.
Russet learned many things as a new kit to the clan, but it wasn't until she was of age to become an apprentice that she was welcomed fully into the clan as Russetpaw. Personality: Excitable and distractable, Russetpaw has high expectations of life as a Clan cat. She's grateful to the Clan for taking her in, and will do anything in her power to defend it and fight for it. Prompt Response: Numbah 2
Russetpaw was...overly excited about being assigned to a border patrol. It may have been a routine check, but nonetheless, it was her first patrol! Well, other than the very first one to show her the territory lines, but that was teaching really, not a patrol. Especially since nothing exciting had happened.
Not that anything exciting was likely to happen on this particular patrol, either. Things had been quiet lately, and it wasn't expected to change. Bouncing on her paws near the entrance to the Clan's home, she waited rather impatiently for the rest of the patrol to gather. The senior warriors she was going with teased her and wished for her exuberance, which both pleased her and made her calm down a bit. Soon enough they were off, with Russetpaw practically vibrating with excitement.
It wasn't long before they caught the scent of fresh-kill, and since it didn't smell like anyone in their clan, the cats were on instant alert. So exciting! She so wanted to run off and find the foreign cat on her own, wanted to take it down and make it surrender! ...but she was also very aware of her status as apprentice. The cats she was with were all warriors, and all immensely experienced. So she waited, followed the others, soaked in their vast knowledge and experience.
Until she smelled something else. Kit scent. And death. All in one moment, she was taken back to all those moons ago when she was a kit lost in the woods. Her heart racing in her chest, she moved ahead of the patrol, ignoring their protests and hisses to get back. "It's just a kit," she told them. A terrified little kit still trying to hide in it's mother's cooling fur. "It's all alone...can we take it back to camp with us?" she meowed plaintively. They had to, they just had to...
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting for the warriors to decide, she was allowed to pick up the little kit and carry it back to camp.
Name: Greenpaw -> Greenleaf History: Gee is as normal as normal can be. born and raised by two perfectly wonderful parents, she entered her apprentice-hood at exactly 6 moons and has done her best at training. Personality: Gee is the opposite of what a Shadowcaln cat is percieved to be, by the other clans at least. She isn't tricky or mean, powerful or cunning. What she is, however, is kind to a fault and utterly selfless. She doesn't like to fight, but instead uses the sneakiness that Shadowclan is known for to slink off to her Secret Place. Prompt Response: #1?
Moonhigh threw strange shadows around the clan camp. Shadows long, dark and deep. Perfect for sneaking around. The muddy-colored kit stepped softly, her green-brown eyes reflecting, flashing in the night. Tail high, she paused to look around to make sure no one had seen her. No one had. Except for Greenpaw, of course.
Greenpaw giggled softly at the sight. It wasn't real, only a memory revisited by the repetitious journey she made that night so long ago and every night since. No one would catch the little kitten, for the kitten was now almost fully grown. Where was the apprentice going? Only she knew. A Secret Place.
She slipped through the briers and found the hidden path that lead to the brook that babbled a little while south of the camp. She followed that, paws silent on the damp ground, stopping once in a while to nose and paw at the ground, and once to pick up something small in her jaws.
Passing through a curtain of lichen, Greenpaw stepped into her Secret Place and gave a happy sigh. It was the center of a small thicket, barely ten feet wide, secluded and hidden from sight. The ground here was dark and rich. She had scraped away the grass and weeds and now, silver in the moonlight, young plants grew. She pawed at the ground and gently tore into the small parcel in her mouth; A Marigold flower, plump with seeds. Carefully she dumped the small, long seeds into her newly dug hole and covered it back with dirt. For an hour, she observed the growth of her plants and silently passed back and forth, carrying water from the brook with a sponge like moss.
Many would think Greenpaw to be named for her eyes, but it was her skill with plants, she believed called to her by name. She spent her nights caring for her garden. During the day, Greenpaw was a perfect apprentice. She did all that was asked from her, and more, if she could manage. She was a helpful cat, kind and caring. Her dream, though she would never admit it, was to be a medicine cat. She wanted nothing more than to take care of her clan and everyone else who needed her. But she was far from perfect, and was held back by self-doubt. But all those worries never entered this thicket. Here, she was entirely herself.
Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2014 7:58 pm
Blinded By Silence
Name: Greenpaw -> Greenleaf
(psst; which number cat are you trying for here o3o?)
