ll, BB, XoXo, Dd, Aa, mcmc, spsp, tata, ii, Ccs, Wsw

   Morelkit was born in a litter of three sisters as the smallest, and thus the runt. She was sickly since she took her first breath, and her parents feared she would not last the night, much less survive her kithood. She, ever the contrary, did. The kit had a lot of catching up to do in terms of keeping in step with Cricketkit and Sturgeonkit. She was always a little more spirited, had more to prove because she was never the one anyone favored. Her parents taught their children to keep their heads down and respect the monarchical Heronstar line, and however much Morelkit hated it, she did.

    You see, she had been born into a family that was pinned as supporters of Egretfeather. The molly who had threatened the Heronstar bloodline many moons ago when she gained support from some of the clan to be deputy. She was not chosen in favor of Heronstar's kin, yet the uproar from many Lichenclanners quieted when she was found dead soon after the ceremony. Morelkit's family tree had withered away due to misfortune after misfortune, until she, her siblings, and her parents were the only leaves left that they could trace.

    Her parents had thought that she would fall victim to that cruel curse as well, but Morelkit never did. She looked that blight right in the eye and lived. It filled her with a sense of pride, even at a young age. She could care less about who was in charge and who wasn't, truly and honestly. As long as she could get what she wanted. And she wanted to make her parents proud. She wanted to make her clan proud. She wanted to shine.

    The young cat, like many of her peers, learned how to gain an advantage by bending words to her will. She was never the strongest one, nor the quickest, but she sure as Stars could think. It was little things at first, but she learned through careful trial and error what worked and what didn't. Warriors never expected to be duped by a kitten, and her fellows were often too naive to know the games she was playing. Her sisters were really the only ones that could see through her. By the time she was an apprentice, her manipulative streak wasn't too shabby.

    Nobody had ever expected too much of her and her sisters. They were essentially the lowest of the low, but that worked in Morelpaw's favor. She clawed her way up to the place she is now. Everything she has, she earned. And starting from the bottom would make her journey up that much sweeter. Morelpaw knew better than to cause any stirs, but she was careful enough for suspicion to rarely be raised. Her mentor was a younger warrior, she was their first apprentice, and though she respected them she was never very impressed by them.

    But she was happy that way. They thought she was just a happy, simple little apprentice that had beaten the odds and just needed some gentle guidance. Morelpaw was always well behaved, and while her sisters often struggled to hide her talents, she was perfectly fine. The skills she had weren't ones that could be tested like hunting or fighting, and in turn helped to hide themselves. She charmed her way into the hearts of her clanmates just enough to cause a healthy bit of talk about her. Everyone knew that Morelpaw was sweet, and fun, and didn't have a bad bone in her body. Maybe her family isn't so bad after all, they whispered.

    That still didn't gain her favor among her kin, her parents taking a liking to Cricketpaw instead. She loved her sister, but she wasn't sure exactly why she was the favorite. She was just so normal. Morelpaw's apprenticehood went by quickly, and soon she was named Morelmask. For the pretty, mask-like markings on her face… but she, like her name, held double meanings. Her sisters became Cricketcall and Sturgeonstone, and though they might have confessed their sins at the Mooncave, Morelmask spoke only fictitious professions.

    She had seen no sign of Starclan ever having control over her life, though what happened to her family must be more than coincidence... she didn't think it was the dead to blame. They deserved to rest, not to be called upon or held responsible for every little inconvenience the living had. And she's sure that if her ancestors really had any sway on their world, she would be dead by now. No matter her personal opinion, he puts on the face for her clanmates and acts like any other pious cat in the clan. 

    It was not long after the ceremony that her parents revealed something that gave her the chance to get ahead. They must have kits. Raise them well and wisely, to continue bringing the family into a better light. Or else their tree may finally wither and die. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. To have kits you needed an arrangement or a mate, and pairings were often hard to come by. Especially for supposedly cursed bloodline like hers.

    But her charm and reputation came in handy in this aspect. She would make a good mate for anyone willing to take the chance on her, which brought her more than one suitor to choose from. It surprised even Morelmask that she would be able to choose. After testing the waters with each tom, she picked the one with a kind face and moderate standing. His name was Mallowlight. All white fur, with eyes the color of ice, he was tall and muscular—almost the opposite of she. She thought he would make the best father, and he might have. But her family's so-called curse wasn't finished.

    Morelmask knew it was a race to see which of the sisters would grant their parents grandkits first. She and her mate were happy for a while, many moons in fact, but infertility plagued the pair. It soured what could have been a lifelong bond, and they found themselves miserable. Mallowlight was willing to make it work, questioning whether he was the problem, but after talking to her mother… Morelmask revealed that it looked to be her issue. Cricketcall had a mate too, and had not birthed a litter yet. She assumed they were both in the same boat.

    Eventually, Mallowlight's everlasting patience wore thin. Neither of them were getting any younger, and he needed to carry his bloodline on too. Morelmask, internally, respected that decision… but she played the part of a dismayed and distressed lover well. Their separation was one that would be remembered, especially due to the unlikely ending that somehow managed to turn out in Morelmask's favor.

    She was pregnant. Neither of them had noticed, but sure enough her belly was swollen and her scent had changed oh so slightly. Her hopes were not high. She counted the days. Each went by, closer and closer to the two moons it took for offspring to develop… and that inkling of hope grew. Though her mother might have liked her to hold her tongue, she moved to the nursery like any other queen would and prayed. She rarely spoke to Starclan, but in the small chance they were out there and could do anything... she would do anything for these kits.

    Her prayers were answered. Morelmask gave birth to a single son. No other kits in the litter, not even born still. Just one. And he was perfect. The spitting image of his father, no one could accuse her of infidelity at least. Mallowlight returned to her with his tail tucked, but she would hear no word from him. Chicorykit was her son. She would raise him alone and let him make the decision when he was older whether or not he would pity his father. But it seemed that decision would be made for him, as Mallowlight died in the cold, merciless leafbare that followed his son's birth.

    Morelmask was the first of her sisters to birth a healthy kit, and she was elated. Not just for the win on her part, but because after so many moons of feeling as if she was being cheated of motherhood… she was one at last. The first moon or two felt like borrowed time, but little Chicorykit was strong. Though he looked like his father in the color aspect, he had her eyes. He grew up in what felt like a moment, one day was his baptism and the next was his apprentice ceremony.

    He was apprenticed to a well-respected tom, Saltwhisker, and he seems to be doing well in his training. Morelmask is so incredibly proud of him, and knows that he is proud of himself too. She can't wait for him to become a warrior and show the clan what real talent is. But with an empty nest now and newly on the market for a new mate, she's pondering what her best next step is. It looks to be obvious. There is no shortage of bachelors her age to court… the question is, who?