Loudstorm

RedwoodClan

seal lynx point tom with blue eyes

Loudstorm is tall. His body ripples with powerful muscles that he has trained and honed over the moons. His legs are long and strong. He can leap far and climb high. In battle he is a force to be reckoned with. He large paws hide sharp claws that can tear flesh from the body. His tail stretches out long behind him, useful not only to perch in tree branches but to balance the warrior during the twists and turns of battle.


The young toms pelt is composed of various shades of brown. The bulk of it is composed of a creamy tan color while darker tabby stripes cover his legs and flank. His face is composed of darker shades of brown with the typical tabby M marking his forehead. Loudstorm’s fur is short yet thick. This provides adequate warmth in the cold moons. In the warmer seasons his lighter coloring compensates for the thickness, making even the few sweltering hot days the clans experience tolerable.


His almond shaped eyes are a shade of clear sky-blue. Friendly enough when he is happy and carefree, but they can change to a dangerous tool that pierces other cats with anger or displeasure. A bright pink nose sticks out on his face while bright white whiskers curl against his snout.

IC Updates:
Received claw mark scars in a battle between a Redwood patrol to send aid to the Tribe and a ThistleClan patrol. The marks start on his left check and run down to his neck, leaving distinct slashes especially when he turns his head to the side and pulls the skin taut. 

AMIABLE Loudstorm is found cutting up with apprentices, chatting with warriors, and philosophizing with the elders. He’s friendly personality invites conversation with any cat he comes across. Even at the monthly gathering with the other two clans Loudstorm will laugh and joke with even the thorniest ThistleClan warrior.


PROTECTIVE Loudstorm is protective of his family and clanmates. Since his failure to aid his mother when he was an apprentice he has tried to repent for his failure. This can turn into a fault quickly, as when combined with his stubbornness Loudstorm can insist on doing tasks he isn’t cut out for just to keep another loved one from having to be put at risk.


PROUD Loudstorm can be proud of his achievements, he isn’t afraid to boast when he does well with a hunt or in a battle. It is mostly well placed, and he doesn’t let it become overbearing for cats around him. He finds much pride in his clan and will always hold RedwoodClan as the best of the three clans, as any good clan cat would do. Thankfully the tom doesn’t let his pride lead him to believe he is better than other cats. He is always willing to acknowledge when a cat has done better than him and never believes he is above another cat – unless they’re from another clan of course.


SELF-LOATHING Perhaps a fault which Loudstorm does well to cover with his other traits, is his dislike for himself. If a cat is lucky, they may come upon the warrior in a trance as he inwardly berates himself for his faults. He remembered being told he deserved to be a warrior even though he almost got his mother killed. He has yet to believe that is the truth. But his protective and amiable nature doesn’t want others to worry over him, so he does his best to act happy and cheerful instead.


DOUBTFUL Loudstorm is doubtful of his ability to lead and make decisions. While he’ll always volunteer for what another cat has suggested, he backs away from making the suggestions himself. He has no confidence in his ability to make good decisions. The last time he made a decision he ended up dragging his mother’s mangled body back to camp. Perhaps having an apprentice will push him to realize he has the ability to lead, teach, and advise if he will forgive himself for a mistake he made moons ago.

He came into the world loud. It was only a few minutes after his birth and he mewed piteously, sniffing for the warm belly and milk of his mother. The mews revealed the beginning of a deep and strong voice to come. His father chuckled “He will be a loud one.”

Three kits came into the world that night. The next morning, after resting, the queen – Roseclaw – mused on what to name her kits. “What do you think, Blacktail?” she asked her mate who had brought her freshkill that morning. “The little she-cat has the markings of a sparrow.”

Blacktail smiled “Sparrowkit it is.”

“And this one,” she nuzzled the second kit, a black tom like his father, “Should we name him after you?”

Blacktail was quick to shake his head “Oh no, we don’t need two Blacktail’s around. What about Crowkit?”

Roseclaw raised an eyebrow “Name two kits after birds?”

Blacktail shrugged “It’s not a bad thing to be named after a bird. Why not name our kits after the birds who can fly in the tops of our trees?” He referred to the massive redwood trees in which the Clan lived and hunted. Roseclaw mused, and then nodded “Very well, Sparrowkit and Crowkit. Now for this one –“ She looked at the last kit, the first born who was mewling for his food.

“I think we should name him Loudkit, he makes such a fuss!” Blacktail suggested. Roseclaw laughed.

“Surely we can name our kit something bet-“

A frantic call from the camp cut Roseclaw off. Blacktail jumped to his paws. The leader of RedwoodClan could be heard calling all able warriors. LichenClan was attacking. Blacktail looked back at his mate, and Roseclaw nodded her understanding. “I’ll return to name our last son. I love you all.”

Roseclaw watched the black form of her mate slip from the den. She wouldn’t see him alive again.

After Blacktail was buried, Roseclaw returned to her kits. She stared at the kit they had not yet named. As her oldest son continued his mewling, Roseclaw murmured “Loudkit you will be.”



Loudkit grew up boisterous, true to his name he was loud. His would boast of his ability to run, or climb, or jump better than any other kit. And when he became an apprentice, he strove to prove that he was the best. Even when his mentor retired for the day, Loudpaw would train. Climbing as high as he could in the vast redwood trees. Jumping as high as he could, striving to reach the branch just out of reach.

Near the end of his apprenticeship, Loudpaw was boasting of his accomplishments in their most recent test. He had passed the fighting skills with ease, his large, long body was rippling with muscles which made it easy for him to overpower most cats even of RedwoodClan’s size. His brother, Crowpaw, who had not fared as well during the fighting test hrumphed with frustration at his brother. His sister, Sparrowpaw, merely spat in response “It’s a pity your hunting skills have much to be desired.”

Loudpaw felt heat rush to his face. “So what?”

“So,” Crowpaw interjected “if you really wanted to be the best, you’d be the best at hunting too. If you really wanted to be impressive at everything, why not go to Bear Stones and hunt a bear.”

Loudpaw was silent. Crowpaw did not expect his brother to take the dare. Sparrowpaw eyed her eldest brother apprehensively. She had never seen Loudpaw back down from a dare. And, against all odds, Loudpaw was silent.



The next day the apprentices were sent on assignment for their hunting skills. The three siblings stood together to plan which directions they were to go. Sparrowpaw spoke with authority “We should go to the Redwood Graveyard. Even with the three of us hunting there, the prey is plentiful and the space vast.” Crow nodded in agreement.

Loudpaw laughed. “Oh no, sister. We can’t all go to the graveyard. I mean, why go to the best hunting ground to prove our skills? I’m going to go north. The territory closer to the waterfall is more difficult to hunt in.”

Sparrowpaw eyed her brother. “The hunting may be easy at the graveyard, but isn’t it the sign of a smart warrior to hunt where they know the prey comes easily?”

Loudpaw shrugged. “Suit yourself, I’m going north.”

And he stalked off on his own.



When he arrived at Bear Stones, Loudpaw eyed them cautiously. He had only been her a pawful of times, mostly assisting the medicine cat with herb gathering. He knew his mentor was watching him in the shadows. He thought he heard a twig snap to his side earlier during his trek. With a grunt he brought himself back to the present, eyeing the rocks before him.

If a bear was to lurk in the stones, Loudpaw would have to climb them. With mighty leaps he ascended the stones, tasting the air for strange scents. At the top of the stones, he gazed around, searching for signs of a den. He peered into crevices and the various caves the stones formed. He was about to give up, and try to achieve some hunting, when he peered into one last den. The scent inside buffeted his nose. Foreign. Unknown. If this wasn’t a bear, then it was a strange cat in their territory and Loudpaw would be completing his duty as a RedwoodClan warrior to defend their land.

Slowly, cautiously, Loudpaw stepped into the cave. He sniffed the air, and twisted his ears forward, listening for sounds of movement and life. It didn’t take him long to locate the large, sleeping mass of the black bear. It was massive, larger than Loudpaw had dared to imagine. He was unsure what to do next. He obviously could not attack this bear and win. But he needed something to show Crowpaw what he had been able to do. A tuft of hair, enough to carry the scent of the bear to his brother. That’s all he needed.

He padded silently up to the sleeping beast, barely aware of the shuffingly on the rocks behind him. He would deal with his mentor’s reprimands later. Right now, he needed to get the tuft of fur. It was in his reach when he heard a sharp intake of breath. His mentor would not stop him now. He reached out, and with his mouth gripped a tuft of fur and pull.

The fur came out. And the bear awoke with a roar.

“Loudpaw! Run!”

The tom spun around; the fur fell from his mouth. That was not the voice of his mentor. It was his mother.

He ran, pounding up the stones. “Mother! Run!” She was still, staring at her son, waiting to see him safely out. He pushed her out of the entrance, the bear stumbling around behind him. There was no way they could outrun the bear. He and his mother ran down the stones. The bear had paused, blinking its eyes in the bright sunlight. It gave them a lead, but it wouldn’t last. Loudpaw knew it couldn’t last.

“Up a tree!” his mother hissed. Loudpaw needed no other direction. With a powerful leap he launched up the side of a redwood. Its branches hung high in the air, but Loudpaw reached them. He looked around, expecting his mother to be beside him. She was not there. He looked down, she was climbing the tree at a slower rate, she did not possess the strength that Loudpaw had. He shot his gaze outward. The bear had found its bearings. It was close. His mother was not high enough yet.

“Mother, hurry!”

His heart was racing, surely it would beat out of his chest. Everything around him seemed to slow down. He watched, wide eye in terror, as the bear reached out and swatted Roseclaw out of the tree. She fell and disappeared in one of the various crevices and caves found throughout the island. Loudpaw couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. The bear roared at the place Roseclaw had disappeared, but it was to large to follow. It turned its attention to the tree Loudpaw resided in. It roared in outrage, yet it did not seem to want to climb the massive tree.

Just leave. Go back to your cave. Go to sleep. I need to save my mother.

Loudpaw did not know how much time had passed. The sun had begun to set when the bear lumbered back to its cave. But Loudpaw didn’t dare to leave his perch into the dark of night had settled over the land. He scrambled down thee tree and hurried to the place his mother had disappeared. He climbed down the tunnel, praying to StarClan, or anyone who would listen, for his mother to be down there alive.

He found her. Her breath was shallow, and a broad gash shined across her shoulder. She was weak, probably on the verge of death. He had to get her to the camp, to the medicine cat. He hefted her up the tunnel. Afraid. Was he making it worse? Had the bear returned? Would he get her to help in time?

It seemed to take forever. He didn’t know how long it had been, but he heard the calls. He could smell them. He was close to the camp. Other warriors came upon them, immediately coming to help him bring his mother to camp.



Roseclaw lived, but her leg would never work for her again. She retired to the elders’ den. Loudpaw was named a warrior with his siblings. They were to stand vigil as Loudstorm, Sparrowpelt, and Crowheart. Loudstorm followed his leader after the ceremony. He was bound to silence, but he didn’t care. He did not deserve this. His pride had nearly cost his mother’s life. But before he could speak, his leader shook his head. “You have made mistakes, I do not deny that, Loudstorm. But it’s how you carry yourself after your mistakes that matter. You have shown you can learn. That is why you deserve to be a warrior.”

IC History Updates:
31 moons (January 2020) - Named Mentor to Smallpaw.
32 Moons (February 2020) - Accompanies a mercy patrol to the Tribe with Finchstar, Orchidshade, Smallpaw, and young Hemlock to provide aid to the sick.
33 Moons (March 2020) - Dawnlight and Loudstorm decide to explore a relationship secretly since they are unsure exactly where their feelings stand.

Fog that

Hangs in Air

Tribe of Floating Stones

solid gray tom with bright orange eyes

Fog’s pelt is the color of the gray stones that make up some of the pebbly beaches of the Tribe’s island home. It is also reminiscent of the gray fog that many mornings cover the lake – rendering the horizon indiscernible from the sky and water. Almost imperceptible in his fur are slightly darker markings denoting tabby stripes. They are most noticeable on his long tail, but the rest of the markings on his body are just a shade shy of being invisible.


His body is thin and lithe. More suitable for the tasks rendered to prey-hunters rather than stone-guards, but he is young and may still grow. His limbs are thing and smooth, still to early in his training to show signs of harden muscles.


As for his face, Fog boasts only a slightly elongated snout. He does not exhibit the sharper features prominent in his more oriental built sister – Moth Guided by Fireflies. His eyes are a bright but pale orange. His short and smooth fur repels water, allowing him to glide easily through water. His eyes are tall and straight, inside a slight tinge of pink disrupts the gray tones of his body. His nose is a dark gray, not to be mistaken for black. His long whiskers spring from his face as a pale gray color, blending in with his gray body.


Fog’s paw pads are the same deep gray as his nose. Sharp white claws extend from his paws, proving deadly to prey and dangerous to enemies. His fangs are long and sharp as well, prepared always to deal a killing blow.

Fog is a disinterested cat. His pale orange eyes look at the world with an apathetic air, rarely showing emotion or interest in the trivial things around him. This disinterested air is due to the boredom that consistently encapsulates him. He is quick to learn tasks and comprehend concepts which puts him ahead of his fellow to-be’s even at his young age. He finds little to no pleasure in making friends, and it would take a persistent cat to get through Fog’s haughty air to become what he would consider a friend – someone who’s company he tolerates.


The few cat’s who Fog trusts can be confident in his loyalty and honesty with them. Even cats he does not trust can believe what he says as true – he rarely hides his displeasure or annoyance. If he thinks a cat is acting mouse-brained than he will say so – even if they are the Teller. This has to do with his higher thinking skills.


When Fog is in a position in which he is asked for advice he does so with an assertiveness that transcends his young age. He is confident in his abilities and planning skills, and if he thinks some cat is going about something the wrong way, he will be insistent on his superior plans and skills. Although this assertiveness doesn’t happen often, it happens enough to cause some of his fellow warriors to think him obnoxious and haughty.


Fog has no sense of humor. He is too serious to crack a joke, and when another cat tease or makes jokes around Fog the young tom glowers in annoyance. His seriousness and highly logical thinking tend to leave him bored with everyday life in the tribe. He will sometimes remedy his boredom by acting obstinate by not doing what is asked of him – at least in the way that is expected. Ask him to complete some menial task and he’ll lay about lazily ignoring the summons. Then when the cat leaves, frustrated and believing Fog will not do what has been asked, the young to-be will mischievously go and complete the task quickly and quietly. Since he is seen laying around sun-bathing or napping when he isn’t being forced to train or hunt, many form an opinion that Fog is irresponsible and lazy, however those who know him well and work closely with him in training know this is just a façade he puts on out of boredom.

Fog that Hangs in Air was born in the second litter of Sunflower where Bee Sleeps and Path Guarded by Stone. Just as with their first litter, Sunflower and Path welcomed three additional kits to their family. The first born was Fog, his gray coat slick and gleaming, practically black until his mother cleaned him and his siblings later. The middle kit was Spark that Starts Forest Fire, and the third kit was Burr that Sticks to Fox. Burr was the runt of the litter, tiny and weak from the start of his life.

With the birth of the second litter, Fog’s father, Path, began to distance himself from his family. He rarely visited the growing kits. Instead of daily visits from their father, Fog, Spark, and Burr were visited by their elder sister – Moth Guided by Fireflies. The she-cat helped her mother by bringing her prey she had caught as a prey-hunter and giving her mother time to rest away from the kits. Fog was to young to remember these early days, and the soon came to an end. A decrease in prey and an increase in sickness kept Moth away from her family most days, although she would do her best to visit. Then one day her visits stopped completely. Moth had caught the sickness that had spread through the tribe and relocated to the sick rock with the other ill cats.

With Moth gone, Sunflower had to do more to provide for her kits. Her mate, Path, had stopped visiting with his young family. Fog barely remembered seeing his father until he was close to being a to-be. Without a consistent visitor to bring food to her so she could still produce milk for her kits, Sunflower had to venture out, leaving her kits snuggled in their family den, while she searched for food. Occasionally another prey-hunter would come and bring food, but all the tribe was busy.

Although most of this time is just shadowy memory to Fog, he does have on clear memory. His mother had been gone to find food, they were mewling, their bellies rumbling for her sweet milk. There was a rustle and their mews grew louder, thinking their mother was returning. But then a low, whining growl slithered through the air. It was not their mother.

The fox was almost all the way in the den when Sunflower barreled into it, knocking it away from the den and her still tiny kits. They wrestled just outside the den. Sunflower thought she had overpowered it and scared it off as the fox ran. She rejoined her kits, a wound in her front leg dripping blood. But the low growl returned. Cornered in their den, the fox was back for revenge. But before it could strike a stone-guard, Lake Where Skies Meet, appeared and fought the fox off. The stone-guard died during the battle, but he took the fox with him.

Sunflower was thankful for the sacrifice Lake had made. She visited with his heavily pregnant mate, Maple that Burns at Dawn, a few times, and even was there for the birth of the single kit, Hemlock.

Unfortunately, the wound Sunflower had received from the fox would not heal and an infection grew. Shortly after Hemlock’s birth Sunflower passed away weak from the roaring fever of the infection. As the only she-cat producing milk, Maple took in Fog and his two siblings to suckle. Burr, however, would not latch onto the she-cat. Various cats from the tribe tried to coax and feed the tiny runt, but it did no good. His mother had not been buried for long until Burr joined her.

Shortly after the deaths, Fog and Spark’s elder sister Moth rejoined the tribe after recovering from her sickness. She would visit with Fog and Spark as they grew in the care of Maple. Fog appreciated his sister’s visits. Now that he was old enough to move around and think for himself, he felt oppressed in the den with Maple and Hemlock. The queen would tell stories of Hemlock’s father at night, and although he appreciated the care, she had given him and his sibling he yearned to be away so he could make something of himself – like Moth had done for herself.

At six moons of age Spark and Fog were named to-be’s and began their training to become full members of the tribe that had cared for them better than their father ever had. A moon later, Fog was joined in training by his old den mate – Hemlock.

IC History Updates -
Fog, ten moons of age, and Hemlock witness the tribe fall ill with a illness the tribe has no cure for. As cats settle on the brink of death Fog also catches the illness. Although he doesn't have a serious case, when the two to-be's witness their Stone-Teller recite a prophecy and die, Fog has to encourage his den-brother to follow the path over a sandbar to seek help. (December 2019 - January 2020)

After Hemlock's return to the Tribe, the two foster brother's have a falling out. When the head stone-guard, Talon, requires them to work together to deal with a coyote, and then tells them he and Maple are becoming mates, the two brothers rekindle their friendship. (March 2020, 12 moons of age)

Aspenpaw

RedwoodClan

long haired seal smoke point tom with blue eyes

Aspenkit boasts a silky, long pelt. Long tufts of fur peak out from his ears, and more tufts are between his toes. Thankfully the silky pelt is easy to care for, and Aspenkit does not have to expend much effort in its care. His long fur is painted with a smoky seal point design. A blotch of black exploded across the bridge of his nose, leaving an imprint of pure black that fades into his base cream. The back of his ears are covered with the same smoky black, their insides contrasted with their light pink shade. 

Aspenkit's paws are huge, their darkened color hiding any dirt his kit adventures may get him into. The color travels up his legs before fading once again into the cream of his body. His long, feather duster tail streams out from behind him, a paler smoky shade from the other points of his body. 

The young tom boasts an average stature. Although he won't be the standard RedwoodClan size he cannot be considered small. He is thick boned and even as a kit the promise of strong muscles is there. While his fur gives him the appearance of a fluffy round ball, the young tom is lithe and slender, allowing him to be quick and flexibile.

His eyes are a bright, sky-blue and the rest under his noticably curled ears. Long white whiskers stream from his face. But other than his ears and long fur, the young tom shares little similarity with his mother - leaving him wondering who his father could be.

As the only male in his family of five, Aspenkit feels responsible for the well-being of his mother and sisters. Despite being the youngest, the young tom takes responsibility for his family. He looks out to protect his mother, and tries to keep his more unruly sisters in line.

While his sisters seem to fall in line for extraversion, Aspenkit is introverted. He can function well in social settings, but ultimately he prefers to be alone. He finds “small” chat a trait he cannot develop and so remains fairly quiet around others - speaking out mainly to keep his sisters in line.

Aspenkit is arrogant. His sense of duty goes to his head, He expects to be listened to and obeyed - especially by his sisters. He takes pride in his role as the “sole male provider”. This can make him overbearing and insolent at times, which can cause much contention with his sisters.

His sense of duty, however, also causes doubt for Aspenkit. His fear of failing in his duty to protect his family leaves him inexorable. He has to be right, even when he is wrong, and he cannot bear to see things change. His deepest fear is that his father will come into the picture one day, and then the clan will see just how inadequate the kit feels himself to be.

Aspenkit is the last born of Curlycloud and is her only son. He boasts three older sisters and a mysterious father who remains shrouded in anonymity.

Leafdapple

RedwoodClan

Silver torbie she-cat with yellow-green eyes

Leafpaw boasts dainty paws and thin limbs. Her lithe frame is accentuated by her long, flowing fur. She stands at average height for a RedwoodClanner, yet when compared to members of the other clans she towers above them. Her pelt is silky soft, and kept well groomed. The bulk of her pelt is silver with tabby markings, splotches of red tabby are splattered across her front chest, right leg, and back left leg. Her face is silver save for the flame stripe of red which cuts down her nose and across her mouth. White covers her chest and stomach, and petite white socks are fitted on the tips of her four paws. Tufts of white fur stick up from the tips of her ears, while round orbs of yellow-green peer from the center of her face. A pale pink nose dots her face, so pale it practically blends into the ginger stripe on her face.

There are some who would title Leafpaw as the Sweet-heart of RedwoodClan. Her sweet nature knows how to please the cats around her and make herself like-able. She strives to establish herself as a a cat anyone can be a friend with. The thought that someone doesn't like her is Leafpaw's worst dream. 

Leafpaw is not the quiet, shy, sweet that some more timid cats are known for. Being raised without her parents, and with a temperamental sister Leafpaw learned over time that if she wanted herself to be noticed and listened to she needed to speak up. This has developed a vivaciousness in her. She is unafraid to insert herself into conversations, or strike up one with a stranger. She is playful, excitable, and friendly. She realizes that she is beautiful, and so teases and flirts with anyone who hints at being attracted to her. Sometimes she uses this to her advantage, charming a fellow apprentice into completing tasks for her if Leafpaw is displeased with the task at hand. 

Despite this manipulation, Leafpaw presents herself in a charming way. She plays the dutiful, obedient apprentice when dealing with older warriors. When she is with her fellow apprentices she makes herself amiable, friendly, and at times flirty. Sometimes an apprentice might think Leafpaw's flirtations actually mean she reciprocates their feelings, but she's made it clear she isn't interested in returning affections in that way.

Unfortunately, despite her efforts to make herself pleasing to everyone, there is always someone who is irritated by her more negative traits. At times she comes off as pompous. So use to having cats like her, she behaves as if everyone should like her. She is also considered prim and proper. Having built up her reputation as a friendly, vivacious she-cat, Leafpaw expects to be treated with respect - to a fault. Sometimes she is quick to take offence, especially if the other cat does not like her. She may be a lady, but she isn't afraid to fight. 

Leafkit was born to what may be considered the most affectionate couple RedwoodClan had seen. Her father, Flametail, and mother, Frosteyes, were so in love with each other it was almost an obsession. Unfortunately, their love was a tragic one. Mere days before his two daughters were born, Flametail was killed in a battle. Frosteyes was heartbroken. She gave birth to Leafkit, but complications arose and a sickly Windkit came hours later. The queen was distraught. Not even the joy of motherhood broke through the ice that covered her heart. Her clan-mates tried to comfort her, but Frosteyes could not bare living without Flametail beside her. Her daughters were not even a moon old when she slipped from the nursery late at night and disappeared. When her body was found the next day, the warriors who could accept the truth knew the queen had ended her own life. The rest of the clan passed it off as an accident out of pity. But over time the truth becomes known. When the two kits were old enough to understand it was explained to them. A sad fact of their history they had to accept on their own terms and in their own ways.

After Frosteyes' death, Leafkit and Windkit were passed from queen to queen to suckle milk beside kits who were not their siblings. Leafkit was aware to some degree that something was different, they had no cat to call mother. Her earliest memories were of a shadow that smelled of sweet flowers and forest. As she and Windkit grew, she tried to connect with the only family she had. But Windkit's fragile nature as a young kit meant Leafkit was kept away. The queens in the nursery treated the ginger and white kit as if she was something that would break at the slightest touch. While Leafkit was able to play and tussle with the other kits, Windkit grew distant and aloof, shunned by her nursery mates. It wasn't until they were near their sixth moon that Leafkit realized the neglect she had shone her sister. 

Playing and talking with the other kits and members of RedwoodClan had taught Leafkit that if she wanted to be noticed, if she wanted others to like her, she had to make herself likable. So she began to use her charms to try and tame her unruly sister into a friendship. Perhaps Windkit had grown jealous of the ease with which Leafkit could make friends or go through life. Whatever the case, Leafkit was rejected again and again by her sister.

Finally they were named apprentices. Leafpaw began her training under the guidance of Curlycloud. Although Leafpaw only learned from Curlycloud for two moons, the silver-tabby warrior taught Leafpaw much. Her encouragement helped to hone Leafpaw's confidence, while her stricter nature kept Leafpaw from becoming a soft, spoiled, she-cat. However, one day Curlycloud revealed to Leafpaw that their time together would soon end - the warrior was pregnant from a mysterious father. 

Leafpaw was disappointed, but she did not wish for Curlycloud to feel as if she had failed as a mentor. Leafpaw had formed a great respect for her mentor, and out of that respect she pursued her studies with Shrewfur with the same care she had shone Curlycloud. For the past three moons Leafpaw has learned how to handle the differing teaching styles, learning the quirks and behaviors of Shrewfur so as to better please her. At times Shrewfur's inability to explain things well irritates Leafpaw, but she does her best to keep the thoughts to herself. Although Shrewfur is no Curlycloud, Leafpaw still appreciates what the warrior has been able to show her.

Unfortunately, over the moons of their apprenticeship, Windpaw and Leafpaw have grown further apart. Tired and frustrated by the constant rejection from Windpaw, Leafpaw has given up. While her heart still yearns for a relationship with her sister, she has come to accept that such a relationship will likely only ever occur in her dreams.

Sparrowheart

LichenClan

seal point tom with sky blue eyes

Sparrowheart is lithe and nimble, his stature fitting the typical LichenClan cat. A cream base coat is marked at his points with a deep seal brown color. His fur is short and smooth. His face is marked with long white whiskers. His nose the same seal color as his fur. Light, sky-blue eyes peer from the darkness of his face. Atop his head sit large triangular ears.

+Cheerful/Happy-Go-Lucky
+Venturesome/Adventerous 
=Dutiful
- Boisterous
-Opinionated

Sparrowheart is unsually cheerful for a LichenClan cat. He seems to always be sporting a smile. When faced with a problem, Sparrowheart is seen taking it in stride. He has a happy-go-luck carefree outlook about the future. Even with the uncertainty LichenClan has fallen into in recent moons, he thinks little about the future and rather spends his time enjoying the present. Adventerous, Sparrowheart loves to explore and push boundaries. Venturesome, he's always willing to pose a challenge. With an almost boundless energy Sparrowheart is always looking for something to do and someone to do it with.

Although some may wonder if Sparrowheart can take anything seriously, his parents did instill in him a sense of duty. They spoke of the time when LichenClan was respected. When they respected their warrior ancestors, but honored the ideals the ancestors strove to follow more. He feels more of a sense of duty to the ideals of the warrior code, and a wish to experience the LichenClan of the past that strove to rise above clan rivalry and act in peace.

A down side to Sparrowheart's happy-go-lucky attitude is that he can get boisterous. When riled up with a competition, or just trying to keep everyone cheerful and happy, he can get reckless and cause messes. The tom can get loud, and some people find this annoying. He isn't intentionally being reckless or intending to cause chaos. Sparrowheart just has a difficult time controlling himself when he is excited.

Sparrowheart is opinionated, and he will let people know what he thinks even if he isn't asked. Because he's so cheerful and venturesome, Sparrowheart is always willing to talk, and many times things that would be better left unsaid leave his lips. His antics will get him in a physical bind, his words will get him in a political bind. While he's learned to curb his tongue in many situations, he still speaks out when he would be better to remain silent.

Sparrowkit was born to Patchclaw and Warblerpelt, father and mother respectively. It was the height of green-leaf. The cool lake breeze provided some relief to the laboring she-cat as she birthed three strong and healthy kits. Sparrowkit was the first born, followed by two she-kits. Warblerpelt was a kind mother, she cared deeply for her kits. Patchclaw was a realistic warrior, and would do what it took to keep his family safe. The two warriors had been attracted to each other because of their family connections. Over the seasons both of their families had sided with Egretfeather, and against the Heron blood line. Sparrowkit's parents knew the dangers the such ties brought to their young kits, and so they lay low. In the sanctuary of the nursery the regaled their kits with stories of LichenClan's noble history, of what they dreamed and hoped for their children's futures. There was one thing the parents differed on, and that was how to protect their kits outside of the nursery. Patchclaw wanted to show the kits bluntly what would happen if they spoke out of turn, said the wrong thing at the wrong time in front of the wrong cats. He wanted his son and daughters to know when and when not to speak out, and how to do so in a safe way. Warblerpelt, however, felt that method to be to harsh. "Let them be kits, they can learn these things when they're older." Since Patchclaw still had his warrior duties to attend to, Warblerpelt's way won out. She encouraged her kits to play, enjoy, and explore, while keeping them ignorant of the rising tension in the Clan.

When the time came for Sparrowkit and his sisters to become apprentices, they were blissfully unaware of the religious fervor of their leader. That ceremony was the first time the three had seen Minnowstar, and her harsh voice and serious ardor towards StarClan stunned the kits. That night, crowded in a corner of the caves with their parents, Patchclaw berated his mate for not preparing the three for what was to come. So, the same night that Sparrowpaw had to get use to his new name, he also had to learn of the dangers that would come if he didn't tread carefully during his apprenticeship.

Instead of obedient submission like his sisters, Sparrowpaw felt resentment. He loved the LichenClan he had come to know through his parents stories, and to be told that it was an imaginary vision of what once had been infuriated him. It was perhaps only the providence of StarClan that had given Sparrowpaw his mentor. Boulderstrike was a family friend, and a Egretfeather sympathizer. Under Bouldstrike's care Sparrowpaw learned not only how to be a warrior, but also had a safe environment in which to deal with the disillusionment of his kithood. One night, as Sparrowpaw neared his twelfth moon, Boulderstrike confided in his apprentice. Sparrowpaw, the LichenClan of the past does not have to be lost forever. There are many among us who yearn to be rid of the tyranny of the Heron bloodline, and of Minnowstar. If you stay persistent to the values you yearn to see imbued in the clan once more, it will become reality. With that hope, Sparrowpaw released his anger at the situation he had no control of. He could not predict the future or change the past. What he could do was act in the present. And so, perhaps more openly and bluntly than his family or mentor would have liked, Sparrowpaw began to live out the ideals he admired from the stories. He challenged cats opinions when perhaps he should have stayed quiet. But above all, he stayed hopeful and cheered that he could see the LichenClan of the stories if only through his own actions.

If Sparrowpaw had any other mentor, or if his strength and devotion to his Clan had not been as strong, he likely would not have received his warrior name in a timely manner. So many apprentices went past their twelfth moon training, either because they were not deemed ready or worthy. When the assessments came Boulderstrike prepared Sparrowpaw well. The warrior did not only instruct the seal-point tom on how to act, but what to say. Sparrowpaw was able to portray himself as a adventurous, cheerful, caring and devoted apprentice. And so, shortly after his twelfth moon passed Sparrowpaw was named Sparrowheart.

That was when Sparrowheart changed. No longer fearing that he would be withheld from becoming a warrior, Sparrowheart began speaking out more. He has come to be known as the opinionated, boisterous, cheerful-almost-to-a-fault warrior of LichenClan, and he treads a thin line to stay off of Minnowstar's hate list.