TROUTPAW

REDWOODCLAN

lithe blue lynx point

Troutpaw isn’t tiny by any means. Despite standing below the average Redwoodclan apprentice height, he can be considered slightly tall outside his clan. Though the beginnings of muscles ripple under his pelt, he makes no move to tend to them and grow stronger. Thus, they’re usually hidden under his fur, giving him a lithe physique.

His name originates from his points, a silvery blue color akin to the glint of trout in the waters around the island. Despite being shorthaired, his coat is thick, radiating warmth in the winter and ensuring misery in the summer. A striped mask falls over his head, a deeper blue that wraps around his tail and ripples in lighter waves up his legs.

Often, his maw is curled into a smirk. That isn’t what draws most cats to his face, however. His eyes are an arctic blue, nearly grey. Wide by default, giving him an almost bug-like appearance. His muzzle is slightly smaller than most, making his stare even more prominent. Trout’s ear tips are fuzzy, with almost unnoticeable tufts tipping up at the ends.

Troutpaw has a fair paw in Redwoodclan’s social web. He’s typically someone who will say yes to various different things, whether it be sparring, exploring, or mischief. It has been instilled into him that being outgoing is the way to make connections and friends, but it’d be no honesty to say he was extroverted for the popularity. Attention is his currency, and he works overtime to get it.

Which means he has to sometimes come up with splendidly outlandish plans. While a large part of his common sense has been stolen by a need for being noticed, he makes up for it with a whip-fast wit and creativity. Working smarter, not harder, is his skill, and he’s happy to find ways to get around duties and learning, sometimes resulting in more effort than he would’ve used if he had just stuck to his original plans. However, the impressiveness of his escapes and loopholes are astounding; if only for the fact they can be detailed and clever in a way Troutpaw himself usually isn’t.

Though social by nature, Troutpaw isn’t humble or giving. He often maximizes his skills and strengths, while tucking his weakness and vulnerabilities ashamedly into a corner. In conversations, he speaks of himself a lot, using a lot of “I” and “me” peppered in. It’s difficult for him to see the world from another cat’s eyes, as he is all he truly knows, and even that he isn’t sure of. Self-focused, and others may see him as selfish to an extent, he is more focused on the taking aspect. To give gifts, his attention, or his heart to something is considered a heavy deal, and unusual, the worst treasure of all.

He’s outright loathsome towards anyone he deems to be an unfit peer or acquaintance; Troutpaw can become antagonizing on his quest to get a reaction. It is rarely born of actual maliciousness, more so boredom is a poison, and for Troutpaw it’s double-strength. While most are unable to take him seriously, he has an impish streak often pushed too hard. He’s the kid who hits back twice as hard and keeps on going after a playful shove. Oftentimes, he tries to get a rise out of others, testing their limits. Kind souls and tolerant minds make him work even harder, and in that sense Troutpaw is observant, looking for the flash of a warning sign in others’ eyes, the prickle of a pelt, the wrinkle of a nose beginning to snarl.

Snowfall dusts the ground when Dancinghawk, a Redwoodclan warrior, goes into labor. Earlier that leafbare, Redwoodclan, and the aligned forces had won the war. Victory made every piece of icy suffering seem minuscule to the young couple.

She and her mate Flytail had been wishing for a litter for moons. They had been ready to give up until newleaf when Dancinghawk finally became pregnant. It was met with a gentle scrutiny of both parents’ older relatives, especially Dancinghawk’s, who begged at Starclan’s feet for a safe delivery. With the blizzard striking on the cusp of the birth, she was supervised day and night by her parents and older siblings.

Near the beginning of the year, their litter of three was born. Troutkit was the largest of the trio, his mewls loud enough to be heard across the camp. His brother and sister, Morningkit and Lightningkit, quietly squeaked. The scarcity of the blizzard had gotten into their bones. They struggled for the first few weeks, dipping in and out of worrying condition.

Eventually, they began to grow, and their health stabilized. Both of them got sick easily, however, and remained smaller than the other kits. The effect was not lost on their parents, who closely monitored the two from now on. Parenting had become less of a rose-tinted dream for them, and reality had struck. Troutkit received attention from aunts and uncles, playing with his cousins, as Dancinghawk and Flytail took day-and-night watch over Morningkit and Lightningkit. Though able to play with the other kits, and explore camp without a scolding, Troutkit already had honed in on the attention his siblings were receiving.

Weeks turned into two months. Two months turned into four. Troutkit’s life was one of a young spectator, watching as cats from other clans came to shelter in Redwoodclan. It was a wet, stormy newleaf – Troutkit would forever associate the season with lots of muddy puddles and of cats with scents he’d never smelled before. With the flood striking, Dancinghawk and Flytail were challenged to balance both their family life and duties. Morningkit and Lightningkit were not often hovered over anymore, however, if a minor illness or wound were to come their way, the parents would fall back into their worrywart mindsets. Nonetheless, all three were ready to become -paws.

Morningkit had become far more curious than the others, and Troutkit obliged to help his brother sneak outside of camp late one evening. It was a short-lived adventure. They had forgotten to tell Lightningkit, who had raced after them, accidentally leading their parents straight to the snow fort they were building. The wrath of Flytail fell upon Troutkit, who bartered to do chores rather than be held back from his apprenticeship. It was the first time anyone had expressed annoyance with him – but it would not be the last.

He itched to be free of the nursery and leave camp without being reprimanded for it. Troutkit got his wishes when he, Morningkit, and Lightningkit were called forth by Finchstar. For the first time, he was beheld alongside his siblings and looked upon by the entire clan. Through a rosy sheet he saw his future, the life set out before him. He would be beloved for his skills. Noticed.

And then, the next morning, he asked to sleep in five more minutes.

Troutpaw went running into his seventh moon. He was fueled by things outside of training, and despite complaining, handled his lessons well. His learning seemed like “common sense” – something that became a point of contention between him and his mentor. Especially when his mentor gradually had Troutpaw achieve harder tasks, which required more than just brainless activity. Instead of racing up the curve he now had, he was falling behind, hurdling back to square one. He learned the craft of truancy well, of disguising poor work under a facade. Morningpaw and Lightningpaw put in meticulous work, becoming stronger, now surpassing Troutpaw.

He anticipated pity from his parents. Now that he was weaker, and more vulnerable than his siblings, wasn’t it his turn to be coddled? Instead, though they never said it, their grim faces of disappointment after hushed whispers with his mentor communicated everything Troutpaw needed to know. He was bitter. He was furious. By the time he reached his eighth moon, his mentor decided enough was enough. Pulling him aside, Troutpaw was told that if he didn’t begin to arrive at training and put in effort again, there would be a discussion with Dancinghawk and Flytail about holding him back. Terrified, and feeling threatened, Troutpaw believes he’s been wronged – but the talk has proven effective so far.