Thievingstar

Thistleclan

black and white half-blind she-cat with blue eyes

This slender she-cat boasts a black pelt with a patch of solid white on her chest. The tuft upon her heart, though pure in color and washed frequently to preserve its brightness, has a certain sense of emptiness to it -- a gaping hole that emanates her cold nature. The she-cat's right eye is a gentle yet deceptive shade of sky-blue, while her left eye is tinted a milky white. A collection of faint scars line her left hind leg, made more apparent by a distinct lack of fur tracing the marred areas, evidence of a fox attack from many years past. The injury left Thievingstar with a permanent limp, which seems to add several dozen moons to her age. Her paws are slightly smaller than most cats her size, compounding her already apparent clumsiness. With an ebony tail that is quick to lashing in irritance, her backend might be better suited on an elder's body. Though her appearance is not as rough and ragged as it could be and is far from the unkemptness of a loner, her gaze is often piercing and unforgiving, despite her faulty eye. Regardless, it would not be wise to cross this temperamental she-cat's path.

Cunning and vain, Thievingstar carries herself with an arrogant air and her tail held high. She has little patience for youngsters and no tolerance for nonsense. Despite the damage she suffered to her leg, as well as her half-blindness, this she-cat seems to take no notice of her physical setbacks, hobbling along with the confidence of a warrior at her prime. Her cynical humor is enough to keep most cats at a safe distance from her, but her claws are not nearly as sharp as her tongue, and she would prefer to trick her enemies into submission rather than pin them with her sheer strength. While she is no stranger to white lies, Thievingstar is not typically one to outright fib, preferring instead to conveniently leave out details, change the subject at hand, or stretch the truth just enough to distract the inquiring party. Generally an introverted outsider, the she-cat tries her best to avoid general conversation, but she secretly covets gossip, and will often laze about camp "cat watching" to pick up the latest details on who said what. Though Thievingstar continuously finds herself challenging those she deems lesser than herself, she nevertheless remains loyal to her clan, and will offer help to those who need it --though not without a grumble or two.

The unlikely outcome of a near-elder she-cat and a young tom, Thievingkit was born an only child, tiny and weak. Her mother, Aspenheart, was far too old to be having kits, and considered herself immensely fortunate that the diminutive black fuzz was alive when she entered the world. Though blind in one eye and very small, she proved to be a fighter and a mover. Her father, Spiderlegs, who was rather uninvolved in her upbringing and had no love of children, nevertheless visited her often enough in her early days to grant Thievingkit her name, so given because she would often shuffle to other queens in the nursery to steal their milk.

In her youth, she was doted upon endlessly by her mother, who shielded her from the world because of her disability. “You are the most special of all the kits in Thistleclan,” Aspenheart would say with an endearing old purr as she bathed a squirming Thievingkit. The kitten did not take this to heart, however -- her mother’s treatment made her feel alienated from other youngsters in the nursery. All she wanted was to be just like everyone else.

It was many moons until she was strong enough to earn the name Thievingpaw, and she struggled even more to reach her warrior rank after a mischievous apprenticeship under her mentor, Gingertail. Unable to see clearly with both eyes, she had difficulty judging distances. The ebony female was often seen flailing about the camp, tripping over every root and even her own paws.

Her disability gave her fellow apprentices reason to antagonize her to an almost unbearable degree. Struggling to maintain a sense of sanity during her training, Thievingpaw turned to Gingertail for help, but her mentor's coldness rubbed off on her at an early age. Reasoning that she needed to toughen up and overcome her physical problems on her own, Gingertail did not protect her from her peers' scorn. This coupled with her mother’s continued preening and her father’s disinterest in her training transformed her into an embittered, angry soul. Showing little respect to any feline in the camp, she was the last in her age group to be given her warrior name, for which she is still ashamed.

Yet her time as an apprentice was not entirely wasted. Through Gingertail’s help, she mastered how to best use her other senses -- especially her hearing -- to make up for her lacking vision. Over time, she could detect with a keen ear the softest movement of a mouse’s footsteps in the sand, and her paws were especially sensitive as well, capable of feeling the oncoming vibrations from a charging warrior through the ground. She would practice early and often, honing her skills tirelessly to be able to match her fellows in combat in spite of her physical shortcomings. It was this determination and added training that earned her the name Thievingstreak -- for her attacks were swift and brutal, often too fast to be seen.

As a warrior, Thievingstreak developed some vague level of patience, as well as tolerance against those who sought to torment her. Even though she had matured much since her days as Thievingpaw, her hostile and serious attitude remained. She continued to hold herself to high standards, along with her apprentices, but through teaching others, she also gained the ability to keep her emotional outbursts in check (enough to avoid altercations with her clan’s leadership, at least). After winning a fierce battle against a skulk of foxes -- one which prompted the former leader of Thistleclan to retire -- she unexpectedly rose to the rank of deputy. This promotion swelled her pride immensely. It was not without cost, however, as she would later sustain an injury to her hind leg in another battle with the same infuriated foxes just a moon later that gave her an uneven, labored gait.

Thievingstreak’s superior, Froststar, was wise but very old, and his term as leader was short-lived compared to most as he succumbed to greencough during a particularly rough leafbare, when she earned the name Thievingstar. As head of Thistleclan, she has learned to restrain her tongue and her temper to some extent, channeling her frustrations instead toward her work as a leader. Her passion for her duty is unwavering, and she will stop at nothing to enforce order within the Clan. Thievingstar prefers brutal honesty from her fellow warriors above all else, though she rarely follows her own creed and will twist the truth in her favor when needed. Strict as the female is, she could be more kindly toward her clanmates. An empathetic feline may yet find the softness buried deep within her blackened soul.