Post by ares on Mar 18, 2019 16:08:11 GMT
BIRCHFANG of REEDCLAN
52 moons
warrior
female
straight
52 moons
warrior
female
straight
PERSONALITY
ambitious.
birchfang has, and always will have, high expectations for herself and those around her. being in the third and final litter from her parents, birchfang looked up to her older siblings and was envious of all of the things they had achieved. at a young age, around the time she first became an apprentice, birchfang has pushed herself to grab success and hold on to it for dear life. her ambition, her mentor used to say, will likely get her killed one day. the she-cat doesn't understand the concept of slowing down, and taking things easy. this contributes to nearly every aspect of her life, though nothing more so than warrior duties. greatness cannot be achieved with risks, and the she-cats actions can become a grey area between ambition and recklessness.
charismatic.
perhaps one of the most prominent aspects of birchfang’s personality is her charisma. charm radiates off of her body, and with an award winning smile, it is easy to see why she is liked by so many. the she-cat is very skilled at reading others, and finding out what will or will not work on them. though she is not one hundred percent accurate when it comes to her reads, the she-cat can usually weed her way out of an ugly situation, but flashing her smile and feigning an apology. birchfang is particularly charming around tom cats, or those that identify as a tom. she isn’t particularly good with words, but what she lacks in conversational skills, she makes up for in sheer charm.
petty.
birchfang is, and never has been, the bigger person. she has always been petty, every since she was a kit, and can take small things and blow them way out of proportion. though the she-cat has now gotten this under control, there are times when her pettiness shines through. when she doesn’t get her way, for example, she does take it personally, and isn’t above holding a grudge against you. as an apprentice, this was very apparent, and damaged a lot of her relationships. while she tries her best to keep her pettiness and snide comments to herself, she is far from perfect, and sometimes she does slip.
assertive.
be sure to not confuse the she-cats’ assertiveness for confidence. she masks a lot of her insecurities in a very extroverted personality, and she isn’t afraid to show just how assertive she can be. birchfang doesn’t always know when to quit, and her assertiveness can waver dangerously close to aggression, though she is hardly an aggressive cat. this usually pertains to clan meetings as she is very unlikely to keep her mouth shut about issues that arise involving the clan, though she has been known to speak out of turn at gatherings, even as an apprentice. the she-cat doesn’t do it to overstep her boundaries, but simply to make up for the fact that she is one of the smaller warriors in the clan. by being assertive, birchfang has found that her size is ignored more, and she is taken seriously as a warrior
short-tempered.
tantrums are an art form for birchfang. the she-cat has perfected them, and while she likes to think of herself as short-tempered, the she-cat can definitely put on a show when she is angry, or hasn’t gotten her way. she isn’t particularly rude or abrasive as one might suspect from someone as volatile as she is, but that’s because she doesn’t usually speak when she loses her temper. without speaking, the she-cat can make many cats feel ashamed, just by glaring, a trick she perfected as a mother. the only cat she really feels comfortable speaking to when she has lost her temper is her mate.
envious.
birchfang is a very jealous and possessive cat. if another she-cat talks to her mate, she immediately sees red and can become very overbearing. though she does want others in the clan to succeed, she is envious of those cats that are better at hunting and fighting than she is, and those that are bigger and stronger. her size has always been a thorn in her side, and there isn’t a day that goes by where she doesn’t wonder what her life would be like if she wasn’t so small. birchfang, though she would never admit it, is also jealous of tom cats who can father kits and not have to take time off from their duties. so if she is staring at a tom, she's probably angrily berating them for not having to be in the nursery for six moons after the kits are born.
optimist.
birchfang is one of those annoying cats that is able to find beauty in everything. the glass is always half full, and even if she is staring into the face of death, she would probably be able to find the upside to it. birchfang knows that everything happens for a reason, and that there are more important things to worry about than what could've happened. birchfang is very future oriented, and prefers to focus on what is to come, rather than dwell on her past. if you make a mistake one day, try again the next. for her, there is always a reason to get up in the morning and face the day with a smile.
non-believer.
though she has never told anyone, birchfang does not believe in starclan. the idea that her ancestors are watching the clans is ridiculous to her, and the only thing that could change her mind is if she saw them for herself. to her, if she cannot see something, if she cannot touch it with her paw then it doesn't exist. starclan is an old elders tale, nothing more, nothing less, and she refused to believe in such garbage. however, just because she doesn't believe in starclan, doesn't mean that she doesn't believe in the warrior code. the code is a tangible thing, followed by all four clans, and therefore something that she can get on board with.
birchfang has, and always will have, high expectations for herself and those around her. being in the third and final litter from her parents, birchfang looked up to her older siblings and was envious of all of the things they had achieved. at a young age, around the time she first became an apprentice, birchfang has pushed herself to grab success and hold on to it for dear life. her ambition, her mentor used to say, will likely get her killed one day. the she-cat doesn't understand the concept of slowing down, and taking things easy. this contributes to nearly every aspect of her life, though nothing more so than warrior duties. greatness cannot be achieved with risks, and the she-cats actions can become a grey area between ambition and recklessness.
charismatic.
perhaps one of the most prominent aspects of birchfang’s personality is her charisma. charm radiates off of her body, and with an award winning smile, it is easy to see why she is liked by so many. the she-cat is very skilled at reading others, and finding out what will or will not work on them. though she is not one hundred percent accurate when it comes to her reads, the she-cat can usually weed her way out of an ugly situation, but flashing her smile and feigning an apology. birchfang is particularly charming around tom cats, or those that identify as a tom. she isn’t particularly good with words, but what she lacks in conversational skills, she makes up for in sheer charm.
petty.
birchfang is, and never has been, the bigger person. she has always been petty, every since she was a kit, and can take small things and blow them way out of proportion. though the she-cat has now gotten this under control, there are times when her pettiness shines through. when she doesn’t get her way, for example, she does take it personally, and isn’t above holding a grudge against you. as an apprentice, this was very apparent, and damaged a lot of her relationships. while she tries her best to keep her pettiness and snide comments to herself, she is far from perfect, and sometimes she does slip.
assertive.
be sure to not confuse the she-cats’ assertiveness for confidence. she masks a lot of her insecurities in a very extroverted personality, and she isn’t afraid to show just how assertive she can be. birchfang doesn’t always know when to quit, and her assertiveness can waver dangerously close to aggression, though she is hardly an aggressive cat. this usually pertains to clan meetings as she is very unlikely to keep her mouth shut about issues that arise involving the clan, though she has been known to speak out of turn at gatherings, even as an apprentice. the she-cat doesn’t do it to overstep her boundaries, but simply to make up for the fact that she is one of the smaller warriors in the clan. by being assertive, birchfang has found that her size is ignored more, and she is taken seriously as a warrior
short-tempered.
tantrums are an art form for birchfang. the she-cat has perfected them, and while she likes to think of herself as short-tempered, the she-cat can definitely put on a show when she is angry, or hasn’t gotten her way. she isn’t particularly rude or abrasive as one might suspect from someone as volatile as she is, but that’s because she doesn’t usually speak when she loses her temper. without speaking, the she-cat can make many cats feel ashamed, just by glaring, a trick she perfected as a mother. the only cat she really feels comfortable speaking to when she has lost her temper is her mate.
envious.
birchfang is a very jealous and possessive cat. if another she-cat talks to her mate, she immediately sees red and can become very overbearing. though she does want others in the clan to succeed, she is envious of those cats that are better at hunting and fighting than she is, and those that are bigger and stronger. her size has always been a thorn in her side, and there isn’t a day that goes by where she doesn’t wonder what her life would be like if she wasn’t so small. birchfang, though she would never admit it, is also jealous of tom cats who can father kits and not have to take time off from their duties. so if she is staring at a tom, she's probably angrily berating them for not having to be in the nursery for six moons after the kits are born.
optimist.
birchfang is one of those annoying cats that is able to find beauty in everything. the glass is always half full, and even if she is staring into the face of death, she would probably be able to find the upside to it. birchfang knows that everything happens for a reason, and that there are more important things to worry about than what could've happened. birchfang is very future oriented, and prefers to focus on what is to come, rather than dwell on her past. if you make a mistake one day, try again the next. for her, there is always a reason to get up in the morning and face the day with a smile.
non-believer.
though she has never told anyone, birchfang does not believe in starclan. the idea that her ancestors are watching the clans is ridiculous to her, and the only thing that could change her mind is if she saw them for herself. to her, if she cannot see something, if she cannot touch it with her paw then it doesn't exist. starclan is an old elders tale, nothing more, nothing less, and she refused to believe in such garbage. however, just because she doesn't believe in starclan, doesn't mean that she doesn't believe in the warrior code. the code is a tangible thing, followed by all four clans, and therefore something that she can get on board with.
HISTORY
“one more kit, mousestep!” the she-cat glares at the medicine cat, agony ripping through her old body. she is not longer as young as she used to be, her life of a warrior soon to be over for favour of the elders den. blindness threatens her eyes, damning her to early retirement. she wonders why she decided to have kits again, her third litter when her first two were so perfect.
“you have another she-kit!” the medicine cats voice is calm, but mousestep could almost hear the smile though she can’t see it. the queen, though exhausted from the effort required to birth her three kits, forces herself to prop herself up on her front legs to look at her kits. they are all tabbies, ranging from the palest of oranges, to orange splashed with white, and a pale grey tabby tom. mousestep’s eyes fill with tears, wishing that her mate – their father – was here to see his kits being born, but starclan had failed her. her final litter would be her responsibility alone, and she would rather die than see someone else raising them. she would raise three strong, healthy kits all by herself, and then retire.
taking in a deep breath, the she-cat observed all three of her kits, concerned about their smaller than average size and frowned. they needed good, strong names so that they too would be strong. with the slightest of smiles, the she-cat swept her tail around her three kits as they suckled at her belly. “graykit.” she spoke softly, but with commitment as she looked fondly at the grey tom. “amberkit.” she purred as the name rolled off of her tongue. “and what name for you, my sweet?” the pale orange tabby mewled more than suckled. the queen gave the she-kit a lick on the head, warmth and adoration lighting her ochre eyes. “birchkit.” the kit stopped mewling and snuggled in closer to her mothers’ stomach, rocked gently by the purrs emanating from the practiced mother.
squeals of joy erupted from the three kits birthed only moons before. snow drifted down from the sky, blanketing the earth in a soft hush.
“momma! what is this?!” you cry out in feverous delight as your small paws make miniscule prints on the ground. you’ve never seen anything like it, having been born just a moon shy of leaf-bare. it was a late pregnancy, and one that wasn’t planned to occur. you are nigh old enough to be out of the nursery with your siblings, while your mother keeps a close watch from within the opening. “it’s so cold!” you squeak out, as you recognize what must be a shiver racing through your spine, shaking your tiny frame. graykit and amberkit are already a rabbits length in front of you, their bodies strong even at four moons old. you wish you were as strong as them, able to play as rough as they do, but your mother warns you against play fighting. she says you are too delicate for that. you become acquainted early with the green eyed monster.
“it’s snow, my sweet.” your mother’s voice is tired, betraying her age, and everyday, her eyes become more white as the cataracts begin to take over her vision. you don’t understand why your mother walks slower than the other queens, or why she is always using her tail to guide her. you understand that she is older than the other queens, but when you ask her if she is going to go back to being a warrior, she gives you a sad smile. “snow.” you test the word out, enjoying the way it rolls off of your tongue, and you are amazed by the brightness it bathes the camp in. you stand shivering for a moment longer before racing after our siblings with pure joy etched on her delicate pale tabby features. you bump into graykit, who growls playfully at her, and then tackles you into the snow. soon amberkit joins as well, and within a matter of moments, you are all soaked to the skin with snow.
“birchkit! come back to the den before you catch a chill!” your mother’s words make your blood boil, and grumbling under your breath, you stomp back to the den where your mother picks you up by the scruff of your neck. you want to protest, but you submit to her. after all, she only wants what’s best for you. she sets you down gently in your nest, and she begins to groom you, and despite yourself, you purr and slowly feel yourself falling to sleep. you dream of being a warrior, swimming through the waters, swifter than all the fish, faster than the eagles flying above you, and a better warrior than either of your siblings,
“let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather before the high mound for a clan meeting!” warriors and apprentices swarm the clearing. you can’t sit still. it is your moment.
there is an air of excitement, your body quivers with anticipation. you hope to get a nice mentor, one who won’t treat you like your delicate. you are beyond annoyed of your mother’s constant worry, and are ready to prove yourself just as adequate as your siblings. you sit as patiently as you can as birchkit is called forward, and he is given his apprentice name. his mentor is a lithe she-cat, with a gnarly scar running along her left flank. amberkit’s mentor is a young warrior, who is almost as excited as she is. it is now your turn. you step forward and the leader looks down on you with warmth, and pride, the same look she has given your siblings. she calls for a warrior, black as night with eyes that bore into your soul. you are terrified as you touch noses with her. you and your siblings cuddle together that night in the apprentice’s den, and sleep soundly.
your first training session is a disaster. your mentor is hard, and angry, and has no time for your excuses, or your pouting. it doesn’t stop you though. you don’t want to do a tour of the territory with your siblings. you walk with a storm cloud over your head and mumble under your breath. your siblings are excited and full of questions. your mentor keeps shooting glares over her shoulder at you. the tour ends on a sour note, as your mentor commends your brother and sister for their attentiveness. she speaks no words to you for the entire trip back, and once at the camp, commands you to get something to eat then go tend to the elders.
you stomp off to the elders den, your nose already curling at the thought of listening to them talk your ear off. you haven’t spent a lot of time with the elders, merely heard tales of their never ending tirades about the past from the older apprentices in passing. you have also heard of the infamous mouse bile, and you hope that the medicine cat hasn’t been around in the last little while. you poke your head in, and one of the elders is licking their chest fur and barely starts when you enter the den. he looks at you, and you gasp at the sight of the left side of his face. there is a pink scar where his eye should be, and scars score their way down from the base of his ear, to the corner of his mouth. his good eye narrows and he calls you over.
“finally! in my day, I never made the elders wait for clean bedding. get in here and get this soiled moss out of here.” his voice is hoarse, and he smells stale. you realize that he probably hasn’t had a proper grooming in a while. you glare up at him and your whiskers twitch. “i have been busy with my mentor, thank you very much! and if you didn’t stink so bad, your bedding wouldn’t be so soiled!” you realize after you have spoken that you are out of line, but you refuse to apology. the tom cocks his head to the side, and to your surprise, he smiles. “feisty one, aren’t we?” he laughs at your expense and then shoos you away to bring back more bedding. against all odds, heronstep becomes your confidante.
you continue your training, and to your dismay, your brother and sister are growing stronger day by day, and are beginning to resemble your mother in body and in mind. you are still small, lithe and quick on your paws, but you are not strong. your endurance is not up to par, and you fear that you are not cut out to be a warrior. you spend a lot of time with heronstep, speaking about your woes, and more often than not, he is blunt with you.
“birchpaw, you are not like your brother and sister. they have the minds of warriors. you still walk around with a chip on your shoulder, thinking you have something to prove, but don’t do any extra work to prove whatever it is. buck up, kid. I’m sick of your complainin’.” heronstep has no time for your temper tantrums, and though he hurt your feelings, you know he is right. you still see yourself as the kit that wasn’t allowed to play with your siblings, and that you will never be good enough to be a warrior. it takes you until you are three months into your training to realize it, but you now know that you have been wrong. reedclan cats are not born to be big and strong, clumsy and heavy footed. they are born to be swift, and sure footed, silent as a hawk soaring through the air.
you awake the next morning with a new fire in your heart, and determination that can’t be bridled. when you present yourself to your mentor, you speak with respect, and are rearing to go. nothing can stop you from becoming the warrior you were always destined to be. crowscreech is impressed with your feverity, and she pushes you to your limits. you hold your own in battle training, pushing harder and harder. you thrive while hunting, your lithe frame and long legs making it easy to cover the distance. before you know it, it is the morning of your final assessment. you have come a long way from the whiny, entitled brat you were when you first became an apprentice, and you refuse to let your brother and sister show you up.
eagleclaw is the most handsome cat you have ever laid eyes on. he is older than you, and has no time for you, but you are enthralled with his grace and success as a warrior.
you never really saw yourself as the type to want a mate, but whenever you look at eagleclaw, butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t speak. you become jealous of his relationships with other she-cats, and he isn’t even your mate. the tom has no idea who you are, but you are hard pressed to show him who you are and make sure that he remembers you. you try every time you are on a hunting patrol with him, and you are first to offer your assistance when the leader wants something done. it takes about four moons, but soon the elusive tom knows your name and asks you out on a patrol with him. you smirk at him, and tell him you’re flattered but not interested. you have conquered your prey, and stolen his attention away from the other she-cats. no, you will initiate something when you are ready.
you are twenty moons when your sister announces that she is pregnant. jealous boils your blood; everything always came so easy for ambersong, while you’ve had to work. her mate practically grovelled at her feet before she accepted him as hers. you’re annoyed that she would be the first to bear kits. your mother is thrilled, and will tell anyone who will listen that her daughter is pregnant. according to heronstep, she never shuts up and drives the other elders crazy. you tell him of your jealousy, and he gapes at you and shakes his head. he tells you that you could have it too, if you would stop playing games with poor eagleclaw. you know he’s right. again.
shortly after your sisters kits are born, you become pregnant. you have spent the last several moons getting to know eagleclaw, and making sure he is the right cat for you. you were reluctant at first, but the tom finds your temper enticing, and your ambition intriguing, and he never stops you from going after something that you want. so when you announce that you want to be a mother, he is more than happy to oblige. you know that you will have to take some time off from your warrior duties so that you can stay healthy for your unborn kits, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth but you don’t argue. all you ask is to be able to remain a warrior until the last possible moment. and you do just that.
you have an easy pregnancy, and for the most part, you follow the medicine cats instructions. you don’t necessarily follow them to a tee, but enough that you don’t put your kits at risk. you give birth on a chilly green-leaf morning to four beautiful kittens. you and eagleclaw argue over names – as you do about most things – and finally agree one adderkit, cinderkit, honeykit, and lynxkit. you have three she-cats, and a tom, respectively, and they are the most beautiful creatures you have ever laid eyes on. your sister and her kits – now four moons – are almost as excited as you are about the new additions to the rapidly growing family, and though your mother is completely blind now, she is overwhelmed with pride at the ‘sight’ of her grandkits.
heronstep has told you that he would come an visit you after your kits were born, but he has yet to show up. you have been confined to bed rest for two days prior to the birthing, and are becoming increasingly uneasy about the entire thing. eagleclaw runs interference for the two of you, but he reports nothing suspect after visiting with the ornery old tom cat. however, eagleclaw was wrong, as was nearly everyone else who had visited with him. the medicine cat said something happened that caused his body to convulse, and it put too much strain on his heart. he had a stroke, though these words were not used directly. your heart is heavy with the news, and you grieve silently, unable to sit vigil with your oldest and dearest friend.
“adderkit, you get your tail back over here or so help me!” you sound like your mother, though none of your kits are as fragile as you were. their energy rivals your own, and you pray for the days of before.
your three other kits play around your body, attacking your tail as it flicks with agitation at their sister. adderkit is the spitting image of you personality wise, and some days you want to strangle her. you watch her with annoyance as she trots back to you, all high and mighty, but one look at her face and she shrinks in on herself. she squeaks out an apology and goes to play with her siblings but as she turns away, you snag her by the scruff of the neck and drop her between your front paws. you begin to groom her, while your chest vibrates with the force of your purrs and you laugh as she complains about you ‘babying’ her.
your time in the nursery is relaxing, but you are going stir crazy. five moons laying around doing nothing is clawing at your sanity and you are very ready for your kits to become apprentices. they are definitely their father’s children, and even with them being the only kits in the nursery, it feels crowded. you love your kits with all of your heart, there is no denying it, but you long to be back out on the moors racing after a rabbit, and telling off the other clans who venture a little too close to the border. you are almost thirty moons, and you haven’t even had an apprentice yet. your dreams of becoming deputy and then leader are falling out of your grasp. at this rate, you will never have reach your dreams. you think to yourself what your life would look like if you and eagleclaw had decided to stay kitless, but all you see is emptiness. you would do it all over again.
“birchfang, I trust that you will teach newtpaw everything that you know about being a warrior.” you are excited; you finally have an apprentice. the stocky tabby walks towards you and you touch noses with him. there is a fire in his eyes. you are in for a hell of a ride.
your apprentice is smart, almost too smart. he has a sharp tongue and more often than not, you are left exasperated at the fact that he can outwit you. you thought that four kits were a pawful, but you never expected to be tested by an apprentice. he is younger than your kits by three moons, a product of a she-cat and her mate, whose names escape you. they have high hopes for their son; the only kitten to carry to term. you aren’t so sure he will survive his apprenticeship.
“not like that, newtpaw. you are landing too heavily. watch again.” your voice is curt, but there is no impatience. your life as a mother has taught you that patience is a virtue when it comes to dealing with the younger cats of the clan. your mentor never had any patience with you, and you refuse to make the same mistakes with him. you stalk the training area, pretending that you are locked in a showdown with an enemy cat. your paws fall lightly, your muscles taught so that you can react at a moments notice. your apprentice watches you with a scowl on his face as you duck down, roll on your back out of the way of the make-believe warriors attack and then spring back onto your paws. the move is over in a blink of an eye and as you turn to look at your apprentice, he is yawning. “defensive movement is just as important as offensive.” you scold him, a glare present on your face. he doesn’t meet your eye.
newtpaw shows great potential as a fighter, but his hunting leaves something to be desired. you run your voice hoarse explaining again and again the way that reedclan cats hunt. you explain the technique involved, how important it is to power your hunt with your hind legs, and to pay attention to the movements of your quarry. after several failed attempts, the two of you wander back to camp, you pouting about your incompetence as a warrior, and newtpaw yawning with exhaustion. you instinctively make your way towards the elders’ den, meaning to speak with heronstep, and then you remember that he is dead. it’s a hard blow to take every time you are made to remember. you let out a sigh, and find eagleclaw instead. you find him laying by the entrance to the warriors’ den, sprawled out with a she-cat sitting uncomfortably close to him.
“greetings lavenderpelt.” your tone is not friendly, your eyes cold and your ears turned back slightly. she looks at you with her bright blue eyes and the smile drops from her face. “hey birchfang.” her voice quivers as she dismisses herself from the situation. your mate glares at you, and you glare back. you aren’t afraid to remind him that he is your mate, and it would be a dark day if he ever forgot it. you lay down beside him and he begins to groom you as you complain about your apprentice.
“maybe he doesn’t understand the move when you show it to him entirely. have you tried walking him through it from start to finish?” eagleclaw purrs as he speaks, and while it seems like such a simple solution, you can’t believe you didn’t think of it yourself.
with eagleclaw’s suggestion in mind, you set out the next day, determined to make sure your apprentice succeeds. he greets you, cheerful as always, and prances behind you with his tail straight up in the air, chatting your ear off. you are equally as cheerful, but yours is channelled in a different way. as you reach the training area, you face newtpaw and tell him exactly how the day is going to go. he responds with a nod instead of words for once, and while you are taken back slightly, you smile crookedly and the two of you begin. it is smooth sailing from there.
the day your kits become warriors is the happiest day of your life – other than their birth. they have grown into fine warriors, exceptional additions to reedclan. addertail is an extraordinary hunter, and you know that she got it from you. cinderstrike is a skilled fighter. honeysong has an uncanny way with words, and can soothe even the busiest of minds. lynxheart is the poster child for clan loyalty. you sit with eagleclaw as you listen to your four kits receive their warrior names, and your heart swells with pride. you look deep into the eyes of your mate, who stares lovingly back at you. he rakes his tongue over your cheek and whispers that he loves you
“you have another she-kit!” the medicine cats voice is calm, but mousestep could almost hear the smile though she can’t see it. the queen, though exhausted from the effort required to birth her three kits, forces herself to prop herself up on her front legs to look at her kits. they are all tabbies, ranging from the palest of oranges, to orange splashed with white, and a pale grey tabby tom. mousestep’s eyes fill with tears, wishing that her mate – their father – was here to see his kits being born, but starclan had failed her. her final litter would be her responsibility alone, and she would rather die than see someone else raising them. she would raise three strong, healthy kits all by herself, and then retire.
taking in a deep breath, the she-cat observed all three of her kits, concerned about their smaller than average size and frowned. they needed good, strong names so that they too would be strong. with the slightest of smiles, the she-cat swept her tail around her three kits as they suckled at her belly. “graykit.” she spoke softly, but with commitment as she looked fondly at the grey tom. “amberkit.” she purred as the name rolled off of her tongue. “and what name for you, my sweet?” the pale orange tabby mewled more than suckled. the queen gave the she-kit a lick on the head, warmth and adoration lighting her ochre eyes. “birchkit.” the kit stopped mewling and snuggled in closer to her mothers’ stomach, rocked gently by the purrs emanating from the practiced mother.
squeals of joy erupted from the three kits birthed only moons before. snow drifted down from the sky, blanketing the earth in a soft hush.
“momma! what is this?!” you cry out in feverous delight as your small paws make miniscule prints on the ground. you’ve never seen anything like it, having been born just a moon shy of leaf-bare. it was a late pregnancy, and one that wasn’t planned to occur. you are nigh old enough to be out of the nursery with your siblings, while your mother keeps a close watch from within the opening. “it’s so cold!” you squeak out, as you recognize what must be a shiver racing through your spine, shaking your tiny frame. graykit and amberkit are already a rabbits length in front of you, their bodies strong even at four moons old. you wish you were as strong as them, able to play as rough as they do, but your mother warns you against play fighting. she says you are too delicate for that. you become acquainted early with the green eyed monster.
“it’s snow, my sweet.” your mother’s voice is tired, betraying her age, and everyday, her eyes become more white as the cataracts begin to take over her vision. you don’t understand why your mother walks slower than the other queens, or why she is always using her tail to guide her. you understand that she is older than the other queens, but when you ask her if she is going to go back to being a warrior, she gives you a sad smile. “snow.” you test the word out, enjoying the way it rolls off of your tongue, and you are amazed by the brightness it bathes the camp in. you stand shivering for a moment longer before racing after our siblings with pure joy etched on her delicate pale tabby features. you bump into graykit, who growls playfully at her, and then tackles you into the snow. soon amberkit joins as well, and within a matter of moments, you are all soaked to the skin with snow.
“birchkit! come back to the den before you catch a chill!” your mother’s words make your blood boil, and grumbling under your breath, you stomp back to the den where your mother picks you up by the scruff of your neck. you want to protest, but you submit to her. after all, she only wants what’s best for you. she sets you down gently in your nest, and she begins to groom you, and despite yourself, you purr and slowly feel yourself falling to sleep. you dream of being a warrior, swimming through the waters, swifter than all the fish, faster than the eagles flying above you, and a better warrior than either of your siblings,
“let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather before the high mound for a clan meeting!” warriors and apprentices swarm the clearing. you can’t sit still. it is your moment.
there is an air of excitement, your body quivers with anticipation. you hope to get a nice mentor, one who won’t treat you like your delicate. you are beyond annoyed of your mother’s constant worry, and are ready to prove yourself just as adequate as your siblings. you sit as patiently as you can as birchkit is called forward, and he is given his apprentice name. his mentor is a lithe she-cat, with a gnarly scar running along her left flank. amberkit’s mentor is a young warrior, who is almost as excited as she is. it is now your turn. you step forward and the leader looks down on you with warmth, and pride, the same look she has given your siblings. she calls for a warrior, black as night with eyes that bore into your soul. you are terrified as you touch noses with her. you and your siblings cuddle together that night in the apprentice’s den, and sleep soundly.
your first training session is a disaster. your mentor is hard, and angry, and has no time for your excuses, or your pouting. it doesn’t stop you though. you don’t want to do a tour of the territory with your siblings. you walk with a storm cloud over your head and mumble under your breath. your siblings are excited and full of questions. your mentor keeps shooting glares over her shoulder at you. the tour ends on a sour note, as your mentor commends your brother and sister for their attentiveness. she speaks no words to you for the entire trip back, and once at the camp, commands you to get something to eat then go tend to the elders.
you stomp off to the elders den, your nose already curling at the thought of listening to them talk your ear off. you haven’t spent a lot of time with the elders, merely heard tales of their never ending tirades about the past from the older apprentices in passing. you have also heard of the infamous mouse bile, and you hope that the medicine cat hasn’t been around in the last little while. you poke your head in, and one of the elders is licking their chest fur and barely starts when you enter the den. he looks at you, and you gasp at the sight of the left side of his face. there is a pink scar where his eye should be, and scars score their way down from the base of his ear, to the corner of his mouth. his good eye narrows and he calls you over.
“finally! in my day, I never made the elders wait for clean bedding. get in here and get this soiled moss out of here.” his voice is hoarse, and he smells stale. you realize that he probably hasn’t had a proper grooming in a while. you glare up at him and your whiskers twitch. “i have been busy with my mentor, thank you very much! and if you didn’t stink so bad, your bedding wouldn’t be so soiled!” you realize after you have spoken that you are out of line, but you refuse to apology. the tom cocks his head to the side, and to your surprise, he smiles. “feisty one, aren’t we?” he laughs at your expense and then shoos you away to bring back more bedding. against all odds, heronstep becomes your confidante.
you continue your training, and to your dismay, your brother and sister are growing stronger day by day, and are beginning to resemble your mother in body and in mind. you are still small, lithe and quick on your paws, but you are not strong. your endurance is not up to par, and you fear that you are not cut out to be a warrior. you spend a lot of time with heronstep, speaking about your woes, and more often than not, he is blunt with you.
“birchpaw, you are not like your brother and sister. they have the minds of warriors. you still walk around with a chip on your shoulder, thinking you have something to prove, but don’t do any extra work to prove whatever it is. buck up, kid. I’m sick of your complainin’.” heronstep has no time for your temper tantrums, and though he hurt your feelings, you know he is right. you still see yourself as the kit that wasn’t allowed to play with your siblings, and that you will never be good enough to be a warrior. it takes you until you are three months into your training to realize it, but you now know that you have been wrong. reedclan cats are not born to be big and strong, clumsy and heavy footed. they are born to be swift, and sure footed, silent as a hawk soaring through the air.
you awake the next morning with a new fire in your heart, and determination that can’t be bridled. when you present yourself to your mentor, you speak with respect, and are rearing to go. nothing can stop you from becoming the warrior you were always destined to be. crowscreech is impressed with your feverity, and she pushes you to your limits. you hold your own in battle training, pushing harder and harder. you thrive while hunting, your lithe frame and long legs making it easy to cover the distance. before you know it, it is the morning of your final assessment. you have come a long way from the whiny, entitled brat you were when you first became an apprentice, and you refuse to let your brother and sister show you up.
eagleclaw is the most handsome cat you have ever laid eyes on. he is older than you, and has no time for you, but you are enthralled with his grace and success as a warrior.
you never really saw yourself as the type to want a mate, but whenever you look at eagleclaw, butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t speak. you become jealous of his relationships with other she-cats, and he isn’t even your mate. the tom has no idea who you are, but you are hard pressed to show him who you are and make sure that he remembers you. you try every time you are on a hunting patrol with him, and you are first to offer your assistance when the leader wants something done. it takes about four moons, but soon the elusive tom knows your name and asks you out on a patrol with him. you smirk at him, and tell him you’re flattered but not interested. you have conquered your prey, and stolen his attention away from the other she-cats. no, you will initiate something when you are ready.
you are twenty moons when your sister announces that she is pregnant. jealous boils your blood; everything always came so easy for ambersong, while you’ve had to work. her mate practically grovelled at her feet before she accepted him as hers. you’re annoyed that she would be the first to bear kits. your mother is thrilled, and will tell anyone who will listen that her daughter is pregnant. according to heronstep, she never shuts up and drives the other elders crazy. you tell him of your jealousy, and he gapes at you and shakes his head. he tells you that you could have it too, if you would stop playing games with poor eagleclaw. you know he’s right. again.
shortly after your sisters kits are born, you become pregnant. you have spent the last several moons getting to know eagleclaw, and making sure he is the right cat for you. you were reluctant at first, but the tom finds your temper enticing, and your ambition intriguing, and he never stops you from going after something that you want. so when you announce that you want to be a mother, he is more than happy to oblige. you know that you will have to take some time off from your warrior duties so that you can stay healthy for your unborn kits, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth but you don’t argue. all you ask is to be able to remain a warrior until the last possible moment. and you do just that.
you have an easy pregnancy, and for the most part, you follow the medicine cats instructions. you don’t necessarily follow them to a tee, but enough that you don’t put your kits at risk. you give birth on a chilly green-leaf morning to four beautiful kittens. you and eagleclaw argue over names – as you do about most things – and finally agree one adderkit, cinderkit, honeykit, and lynxkit. you have three she-cats, and a tom, respectively, and they are the most beautiful creatures you have ever laid eyes on. your sister and her kits – now four moons – are almost as excited as you are about the new additions to the rapidly growing family, and though your mother is completely blind now, she is overwhelmed with pride at the ‘sight’ of her grandkits.
heronstep has told you that he would come an visit you after your kits were born, but he has yet to show up. you have been confined to bed rest for two days prior to the birthing, and are becoming increasingly uneasy about the entire thing. eagleclaw runs interference for the two of you, but he reports nothing suspect after visiting with the ornery old tom cat. however, eagleclaw was wrong, as was nearly everyone else who had visited with him. the medicine cat said something happened that caused his body to convulse, and it put too much strain on his heart. he had a stroke, though these words were not used directly. your heart is heavy with the news, and you grieve silently, unable to sit vigil with your oldest and dearest friend.
“adderkit, you get your tail back over here or so help me!” you sound like your mother, though none of your kits are as fragile as you were. their energy rivals your own, and you pray for the days of before.
your three other kits play around your body, attacking your tail as it flicks with agitation at their sister. adderkit is the spitting image of you personality wise, and some days you want to strangle her. you watch her with annoyance as she trots back to you, all high and mighty, but one look at her face and she shrinks in on herself. she squeaks out an apology and goes to play with her siblings but as she turns away, you snag her by the scruff of the neck and drop her between your front paws. you begin to groom her, while your chest vibrates with the force of your purrs and you laugh as she complains about you ‘babying’ her.
your time in the nursery is relaxing, but you are going stir crazy. five moons laying around doing nothing is clawing at your sanity and you are very ready for your kits to become apprentices. they are definitely their father’s children, and even with them being the only kits in the nursery, it feels crowded. you love your kits with all of your heart, there is no denying it, but you long to be back out on the moors racing after a rabbit, and telling off the other clans who venture a little too close to the border. you are almost thirty moons, and you haven’t even had an apprentice yet. your dreams of becoming deputy and then leader are falling out of your grasp. at this rate, you will never have reach your dreams. you think to yourself what your life would look like if you and eagleclaw had decided to stay kitless, but all you see is emptiness. you would do it all over again.
“birchfang, I trust that you will teach newtpaw everything that you know about being a warrior.” you are excited; you finally have an apprentice. the stocky tabby walks towards you and you touch noses with him. there is a fire in his eyes. you are in for a hell of a ride.
your apprentice is smart, almost too smart. he has a sharp tongue and more often than not, you are left exasperated at the fact that he can outwit you. you thought that four kits were a pawful, but you never expected to be tested by an apprentice. he is younger than your kits by three moons, a product of a she-cat and her mate, whose names escape you. they have high hopes for their son; the only kitten to carry to term. you aren’t so sure he will survive his apprenticeship.
“not like that, newtpaw. you are landing too heavily. watch again.” your voice is curt, but there is no impatience. your life as a mother has taught you that patience is a virtue when it comes to dealing with the younger cats of the clan. your mentor never had any patience with you, and you refuse to make the same mistakes with him. you stalk the training area, pretending that you are locked in a showdown with an enemy cat. your paws fall lightly, your muscles taught so that you can react at a moments notice. your apprentice watches you with a scowl on his face as you duck down, roll on your back out of the way of the make-believe warriors attack and then spring back onto your paws. the move is over in a blink of an eye and as you turn to look at your apprentice, he is yawning. “defensive movement is just as important as offensive.” you scold him, a glare present on your face. he doesn’t meet your eye.
newtpaw shows great potential as a fighter, but his hunting leaves something to be desired. you run your voice hoarse explaining again and again the way that reedclan cats hunt. you explain the technique involved, how important it is to power your hunt with your hind legs, and to pay attention to the movements of your quarry. after several failed attempts, the two of you wander back to camp, you pouting about your incompetence as a warrior, and newtpaw yawning with exhaustion. you instinctively make your way towards the elders’ den, meaning to speak with heronstep, and then you remember that he is dead. it’s a hard blow to take every time you are made to remember. you let out a sigh, and find eagleclaw instead. you find him laying by the entrance to the warriors’ den, sprawled out with a she-cat sitting uncomfortably close to him.
“greetings lavenderpelt.” your tone is not friendly, your eyes cold and your ears turned back slightly. she looks at you with her bright blue eyes and the smile drops from her face. “hey birchfang.” her voice quivers as she dismisses herself from the situation. your mate glares at you, and you glare back. you aren’t afraid to remind him that he is your mate, and it would be a dark day if he ever forgot it. you lay down beside him and he begins to groom you as you complain about your apprentice.
“maybe he doesn’t understand the move when you show it to him entirely. have you tried walking him through it from start to finish?” eagleclaw purrs as he speaks, and while it seems like such a simple solution, you can’t believe you didn’t think of it yourself.
with eagleclaw’s suggestion in mind, you set out the next day, determined to make sure your apprentice succeeds. he greets you, cheerful as always, and prances behind you with his tail straight up in the air, chatting your ear off. you are equally as cheerful, but yours is channelled in a different way. as you reach the training area, you face newtpaw and tell him exactly how the day is going to go. he responds with a nod instead of words for once, and while you are taken back slightly, you smile crookedly and the two of you begin. it is smooth sailing from there.
the day your kits become warriors is the happiest day of your life – other than their birth. they have grown into fine warriors, exceptional additions to reedclan. addertail is an extraordinary hunter, and you know that she got it from you. cinderstrike is a skilled fighter. honeysong has an uncanny way with words, and can soothe even the busiest of minds. lynxheart is the poster child for clan loyalty. you sit with eagleclaw as you listen to your four kits receive their warrior names, and your heart swells with pride. you look deep into the eyes of your mate, who stares lovingly back at you. he rakes his tongue over your cheek and whispers that he loves you
RELATIONSHIPS
MOTHER:
mousestep
FATHER:
ternstrike
SIBLINGS:
ambersong - sister
graytail - brother
graytail - brother
OTHERS:
addertail - daughter
honeysong - daughter
cinderstrike - daughter
lynxheart - son
honeysong - daughter
cinderstrike - daughter
lynxheart - son
SHORT DESCRIPTION
lithe gray tabby with orange eyes
n/a
n/a
