riverheart

lichenclan

longhaired blue mackerel tabby-and-white tom

Riverheart started off sickly and weak, and as such perhaps won't grow to his full potential, never quite matching his mother's size or his father's mass. Though as he grows it will become clear that he takes after them both in stature. Lanky, bumbling limbs will grow into robust, hearty legs that don't stand too tall. Narrow shoulders become broader and widen his steps. Thick, soft fur will grow out to be just like his mother's, beautifully feathered and wind-tossed. But for now, he remains to stand on the gawkier side of the spectrum and, until he grows into that destined regal appearance, that's where he will remain.

In his face, he will differ from his parents in slightly slanted, triangular cheeks and more almond-shaped eyes. Though his face will harbor a softer look than his parents' -- smaller ear tufts and a gentler stop on his forehead -- he inherits the boxy, pronounced muzzle shape.

His coat, as highlighted before, takes more after his mother. And not just in length or texture but also in color. He beholds the same soft shade of blue she does. However, instead of a smoky pelt, he has a visible tabby pattern and prominent white markings (on his muzzle, throat, and paws). That is where he takes after his father.

Being the sole son in his parents' only litter, Riverheart knows he's the best kit. While his sisters' sole purposes in life will be to have kittens, he knows he'll grow up to be a StarClan-Given Hero, a Real Warrior. In his own eyes, he's strong and athletic and handsome, he's blessed by StarClan, he's capable and in control and-- he's everything anyone wishes they could be! He won't bother with those of impure blood, or those who are otherwise low in status, because they couldn't possibly fathom his greatness.

Riverheart has goals, aspirations, wants -- just like any other cat! But unlike some, he has passion for the things he desires. He is unafraid to step forth when it comes to things that matter to him, he who is guided by a compass of his own making. His passion lies in himself, a self which he is wholly dedicated to.

But his ambition will lack ethic or merit... or limit. He'll go to great lengths to impress his parents and his Clan-mates, to garner their admiration or notice. He'll become addicted to the spotlight and entirely absorbed in himself - he will want to talk of nothing else! He'll do anything and everything to get what it is he wants.

Beneath this facade, Riverheart will struggle deeply with feelings of inadequacy. If he doesn't make the cut, if no one notices him, he's nothing; he may as well not exist! He'll have nothing, his family won't want him, no one will love or admire or envy him, and he'll be nothing. What if he never amounts to be what everyone expects of him -- what he expects of himself? That's his greatest, deepest fear. And one he keeps quite secret, lest everyone figures out that it's all just... an act. Otherwise, as far as anyone else is concerned, he's fearless! Having this huge, insufferable ego makes him more than what he really is (no matter what that may be, he will always want to be more).

Mother: Sturgeonstone
Father: Flashfang

Maternal Aunts: Morelmask; Cricketcall
Paternal Uncle: Pearbloom

Siblings: Sorrelkit [stillborn]; Lilackit; Rosekit
Half-brother: Brightpaw [killed by a predator]
Cousins: Chicorypelt, Anemonepaw; Cicadapaw; Hickorypaw | Shrikepaw, Wildpaw, Pricklepaw, Heronpaw, Perchpaw, Pikepaw


Flashfang and Sturgeonstone were a match well-made, the queen's pregnancy something that had been long-striven for yet.. miraculous. Given her past difficulties and family history, perhaps they were not expected to have such success. Successful they were, though, and under the first Newleaf moon four kits were born on LichenClan's sacred stones.

Only, the circumstances surrounding the birth were far from ideal. RedwoodClan, the enemy, had suddenly launched an ambush directly on LichenClan's caves. They swooped in on wings made of midnight shadows and descended upon the Clan like wolves. The kits could not have come at a worse time but, they couldn't know that. Not even the best medicine cat can delay a queen's labor. Besides, Riverheart didn't want to miss out on all the action.

So it was that they were born in the midst of a deadly battle. Their mother's mews were drowned out by the clashing of claws as blood of allies and enemies alike doused the holy land they were born unto.

Soon to replace Sturgeonstone's agonized cries were her own kits' voices, mewling in their shared distress. All but one of them. Poor Sorrelkit, who was perhaps too good for this world and, thusly, spared from its clutches.

Riverheart's father, fresh from the battlefield, eventually came to join them when it was all over, when the yowls and hisses faded into quiet stillness. And his mother's relief was shared in that moment. Though he did not understand all that had gone on around him at the time, he remained in tune with Sturgeonstone's state of emotions.

Her soothing, lapping tongue eased his transition into such an intense, turbulent world. His sisters wiggled at his side and nursed together with him, for their lives depended on one another. And he knew he was not alone. The stench of war that clung to his father's pelt; the blood and sweat and tears that melded with his mother's milk-scent was something that would imprint on Riverheart's memory forever. That smell, that distinct and unique smell, meant that he was not alone in this cruel world. And not being alone meant that the world could not overcome him.

In the moons that followed, he would recuperate from a sickly and weakened beginning. A beginning from whence his insecurity would take root, inevitably digging its tendrils deeper and deeper with each negative experience he would come to have. He was born fighting for his life and he'd learn quickly that he needed to keep fighting for a good one. If he became the best and the strongest, then the cruel world that tried to swallow him whole would be his for the taking.