PalEHEART

Lichenclan

white tom with yellow eyes

Wind is a white tom with golden eyes set at a slant. He is lean of face and body. His long tail almost never points upwards. Wind knows how to groom himself but does not bother. He allows muck and grime to dirty his lustrous snowy pelt. The hairs on his fur tend to stand defiantly from his springy and dense coat.

Wind is of the medium-sized European shorthair breed. His legs are supposed to grow strong and sturdy, narrowing steadily into firm, round paws. No single feature of his is enlarged or reduced when compared to other island cats. He is, however, emaciated as a kitten. He appears boney and severely malnourished.

The shorthair prefers silence, though when in conversation his voice is gentle, modulated, and oddly comforting. Wind takes several moments to listen and waits for his company to finish speaking before he answers them clearly and concisely, without rumination on his behalf. He has a knack for speaking in metaphor and asks cats roundabout questions to help them come to their own conclusions without his influence.

(NOTE: Most of this will be threaded out in his first thread when he is discovered by Sorrelsong. Who he was before the final battle is irrelevant.)

- Depressed
Wind is joyless. The white tom was severely marked by his experience during the LichenClan Rebellion. He seldom expresses anything but melancholy, even as a kitten. Wind is graceful and courtly when required, but at the same time a pervasive somberness sticks to his shadow. Some say witnessing the atrocities committed during the assault on the mooncave killed Wind's very soul. Wind shows little interest in she-cats or toms, does not participate in games and rarely starts conversations. He does not enjoy hunting and is apathetic to water and prey, so much so that he often has to be reminded to eat. Similarly, he has displayed no interest in the art of war.

- Volatile
Wind rarely shows emotion, although the mere mention of rebellion sends him into a rage. He reacts angrily whenever touched. Wind struggles with deep depression and has not found healthy ways to cope with it, often closing himself off to his clanmates' concerns. Although clever, Wind is an overall silent tom who answers questions as curtly as possible. He is regarded as solemn, dour, and gloomy. He often retreats into solitude and brooding passivity when pressed to do any activity. Wind never sleeps a full night and seldom leaves his den.

+ Crusader
Wind means to give the island peace and justice. He once said to Sorrelsong, "Full bellies and no patrols," would be his policy. He memorized the Warrior Code and scrutinized every rule during his first moon in LichenClan. Wind believes the most basic tenet for every cat should be to keep peace between the clans. The spirit of the code promoted loyalty, discipline and honor. Regardless of the rebels' intentions, the LichenClan cats that sided with RedwoodClan and ThistleClan were traitors. StarClan gave Minnowstar nine lives. She was their leader, and the word of leader was the code. Minnowstar may have been an insane malcontent but killing her was not justified in Wind's eyes. No warrior of LichenClan should outlive their leader when she dies of violence. He thinks the rebels should all be exiled. Intentions don't matter - consequences do.

+ Political
Wind prefers diplomacy but will use violence as a last resort. He does his best to be respectful of others, even if he privately thinks them incorrigible or disagrees with them. As a kit he quickly acclimated to LichenClan's habits of social engineering. He makes friends easily, but rarely keeps them. Wind knows as an outsider that he should be careful to not make any enemies and to be at his best behavior in public.

/ Fatalistic
Wind believes he is bound to a destiny he cannot escape. He has resigned himself to serving LichenClan obediently and without question, so that he might not be killed or left to die in the high rocks. His fate was decided the very moment he was born as a rogue. He is forever apart - isolated because of his lineage. He looks down on any cat that does not accept "fate", though deep down he resents his own.

Lily's rogues weren't the only loners on the Apostle Islands. The conflict between RedwoodClan, ThistleClan, LichenClan and Lily's gang had ramifications for all the lives that dwelled there. Opportunistic rogues unaffiliated with Lily saw a chance to make their own moves. The cats from the Northern Cliffs lived more difficult lives than any others. They had less prey, less safety, less of everything.

Wind was born in a litter of four. Two siblings died from illness, the father from starvation. Every day was a war. The high rocks were mostly barren besides the odd lizard or canary. There was next to nothing in leafbare. Wind had tried and failed to catch prey for himself, but he had no training and only put himself in danger when he tried. He never dreamed of anything, only hoping he could see the next morning. His mother knew she was running out of time and options. She wanted no part in Lily's ambitions. She had no hatred for the clan cats and did not wish to fight them. All she wanted was a bit of food and shelter. 

The desperate cream she-cat saw a chance to feed her kin, and that was all she cared to do. She heard the yowls of battle and whispered to her son and daughter to stay close to the sandbar while she foraged for prey. The LichenClan cats were distracted. She could snatch up a squirrel or two from the birch tree forest - a dense thicket teeming with prey. If anything went wrong, she could run back to the northern cliffs that were not so far away. The fearful loner thought only of procuring enough food for the three of them to last a week, and in her haste, she neglected to inform her children the extent of what was happening. She only told them to stay still. 

The pale white kitten disobeyed his mother when he heard the sounds of other cats in the distance. Curious, as all kittens were, he ran over the shoreline towards the strange-looking cats that gathered in a great display he'd never seen before. His sister followed behind him, mindlessly encouraging their exploration. "No!" the she-cat cried as her sons encroached on the LichenClan sea caves. She dropped the thrush in her jaws. She pushed her weak limbs to move faster. A RedwoodClan warrior charged at the pair, grabbing the elder sister and hoisting her away from the battle. The younger kitten turned around to return to his caretaker after witnessing his sister's abduction, but his excitement turned to anguish as two warriors ran past him.

His mother shrieked, desperately clawed into the sand, then looked into her son's eyes one final time. Her throat was ripped out by a faceless warrior. She fell on her side, breathless and mouth open with shock and horror. The warriors turned, looked at the kitten, then ran to some other battle. The kitten stood transfixed as blood splattered his pelt. Cries of anguish rung in his ears. His mother's corpse was trampled. He let out a silent scream.

The catatonic kitten was retrieved in the aftermath by Sorrelsong. He did not answer where he came from or even what his name was. He did not eat, sleep, or drink. He was not recognized by any of the rogues and did not have the scent of another clan. But the code was clear, no harm shall befall a kit, even kits that were not clan born. He was moved to the nursery as the lone kit where any volunteer queens could care for him until he became what they thought was six moons of age. Sorrelsong took in the whelp, though their relationship is awkward to say the least...