Silentpaw

lichenclan

thick-furred russet she-cat with cream underparts and black-tipped tail. vivid green eyes.

flame-tumbled, silentpaw is one thrashed against her hues. fire engulfs her frame, suckling her limbs and pressing hungrily at her every contour; soil spits high across her spine, crumbles down her haunches and plumy tail; shoulders hunch dark and earthy, tail-tip smothered in pitch-night—hers is a mantle as messianic as she, snarling ablaze at the scantest tickle of sunlight. such does not ring true for her underparts: instead, there is respite within the mellow milk-light blossoming belly, breast, and muzzle, and a delicate caress of white kisses her chin and nestles snug above her heart.

short, scruffy, somewhat scrawny, silent is built for strength and speed, yet not their extremes. she has yet to grow into herself; her fur’s like she’s been dragged through a thorn-thicket. a cat of the elements is she: fire in her flesh, wind in her wild, whipping tail. the promise of athleticism swells subtle in her shoulders and kneads her limbs long and lithe, yet she blathers and bumbles like any common youth.

childish in mien, childish in manner: face gentles with silk; cheeks roll round with lingering puppy-fat; startled, owlish eyes kindle twin flames; ears stretch tall for the sky, ever-pricked, attentive. simply put: she’s evidently young, and easily mistaken for younger. a very common apprentice indeed.

not a cowed cat in her demeanour—she plucks her steps bright and bold, chest puffed out and tail aloft for all to see. there is some bedraggled semblance of a swagger to her stride, a certain scramble for majesty; however, her might is more molehill than mountain. sometimes, out of the corner of your eye, you may see her tail wilt, her shoulders hunch, her strut slump slow and heavy; or perhaps you won’t see this at all, as she takes great pains to conceal such unsightly weakness.

flamekit is born after the great war to foxfire and fallowfawn, both warriors of relatively low rank. foxfire is of an eminently respectable line that has fallen into disgrace; fallowfawn’s had always been deemed low-birth. flamekit has two siblings—charcoalkit and alpinekit. flamekit is the spitting image of her mother and thus she is loved (and loved alone). fallowfawn loves her siblings in foxfire’s stead. foxfire does not even look at them. all her world is flamekit; and all flamekit’s world is Her.

foxfire is confusing as a mother. she is so very kind and so very cruel. she praises and insults flamekit in the same breath. she shoves flamekit out of her nest, forces her to sleep in the cold; she grooms flamekit until she purrs, laves her ears and tail and nestles her close. at times she is lucid, all sharp intellect and cutting words and blistering tongue. otherwise, she is delirious and coos her fables into silent's fur. it is when she is delirious that she is most loving, flamekit thinks. she never is sure.

yet foxfire is most displeased with flamekit in one aspect: in her first two moons or so, flamekit is quiet. mute. silent. she does not want to chat or play with the other kits; instead, she spends most of her time trembling in a corner or curled up in her nest. foxfire lashes her with the moniker of silentkit, even after flamekit gradually comes out of her shell. flamekit, in her quiet, seethes. (silentkit, in her silence, sobs.)

sometimes, the kits will raise their voices in nursery prayer, kit-squeaks chiming like rain. “blessèd are we for our prey / blessèd to breathe another day…” and foxfire will scowl, switching her tail across flamekit’s flank. “listen to them, My Legacy. they’re besotted with it. they think the very stars will come down and pluck the lands free of sin. pah! what nonsense!” a little later, fallowfawn will croon the night-hymns that he had once heard to his children. “quiet comes the night / that sweeps o’er your sight / gentle purrs the dark / that wraps around your heart / and from thick forest to shore / whether we be great or small / starclan loves us all.”

flamekit and her siblings are baptised all the same. it is a quiet, boring affair interspersed with foxfire’s impatient growls and fallowfawn’s soothing murmurs. there is little to remember, and so flamekit remembers little.

somewhere in her fourth moon, something comes over foxfire. she renames flamekit to silentkit and disowns her. “you cannot sleep in my nest, silentkit,” she laughs lightly, smiling indulgently at a wide-eyed silentkit. “i cannot claim someone else’s kit as my own!”

silentkit has now established a reputation for herself as obnoxious, impertinent, and very, very un-lichenclan. she blasphemes. she insults. she cusses. she gets into fights. before, she was disliked; now, she is despised. in that same moon, a blizzard sweeps the shore. the clan is confined to the caves—at times, some huddle together for warmth. silentkit catches the tatters of a conversation fleeting on the wailing wind—two young warriors discuss possible future apprentices. she hears her name.

a few days shy of her apprenticeship ceremony, foxfire goes on a walk and disappears. she is never seen again. fallowfawn, mostly distantly doting before, now attempts to console his semi-estranged daughter.

it doesn’t work out.

silentkit grits her teeth and carries on.



silentpaw is apprenticed to mourningcry, a dappled, dusky young warrior known for his penchant for star-psalms. mourningcry is a thoughtful, solemn tom—yet his patience runs thin ice-water, and his temper writhes like wildfire, sputtering sparks, snapping at heels. silentpaw is far from the ideal apprentice, and mourningcry is no ideal mentor.

fuelled by silentpaw’s increasingly obvious incompetence, their incompatible personalities, and own personal, unresolved issues, apprentice and mentor clash frequently. it is no surprise to see one screeching at the other, and silentpaw soon becomes a familiar face in the elder’s den.

the flood comes, and mourningcry goes. he does not return. silentpaw fumes all the way to redwoodclan territory.


silentpaw reaches her seventh moon in the birch forest. she is given a new mentor. it is cramped. it is restrictive. there is water everywhere. redwood cats are far too friendly. she hates it.