Post by KARARARA!! on Apr 19, 2020 15:43:40 GMT -6
FENPAW
THISTLECLAN
A BLACK TORTOISESHELL SHE-CAT WITH GOLDEN EYES
APPRENTICE
FEMALE
NINE MOONS
Appearance
Fenpaw commands a tall, lithe frame indicative of many ThistleClan cats. With her wiry legs and patchy pelt, she can travel across her Clan's territory, easily blending in with the low-hanging pine branches. She usually has a smile on her face, but Fenpaw emotes freely so other cats can always count on her for an honest reaction. She has bright golden eyes that are the same color as her ginger markings, such as the ruff ringing her chest and the blaze on her face. She has a big bushy tail and ear tufts. Fenpaw's pelt is medium length and very soft. She likes to groom it in certain directions; it makes her feel fashionable and stylish, although her mother criticizes it as being too masculine.
She was born a black tortoiseshell, a small dark-furred thing wailing in the grass. Her most prominent features was the stripe in between her eyes and a single sock on her left paw. The ginger around her neck that she possesses today was just a little splotch back then, and then more of it began to grow in as she got older. The right half of Fenpaw's chin is white until it comes to her throat and jaw, mingling with the ginger before it's completely overtaken in that golden ruff. Her sock became cream.
Barring her frontal features, the rest of Fenpaw's tortoiseshell pelt is brindled. No color is too clustered anywhere else. Her black paws are speckled ginger and white, and on her hindquarters, she almost appears brown because of how the black is mixed with ginger. And yes, she does carry the tabby gene; stripes appear on her golden neck. Her blaze extends to the top of her nose, making it bicolored but predominantly black.
She was born a black tortoiseshell, a small dark-furred thing wailing in the grass. Her most prominent features was the stripe in between her eyes and a single sock on her left paw. The ginger around her neck that she possesses today was just a little splotch back then, and then more of it began to grow in as she got older. The right half of Fenpaw's chin is white until it comes to her throat and jaw, mingling with the ginger before it's completely overtaken in that golden ruff. Her sock became cream.
Barring her frontal features, the rest of Fenpaw's tortoiseshell pelt is brindled. No color is too clustered anywhere else. Her black paws are speckled ginger and white, and on her hindquarters, she almost appears brown because of how the black is mixed with ginger. And yes, she does carry the tabby gene; stripes appear on her golden neck. Her blaze extends to the top of her nose, making it bicolored but predominantly black.
Personality
+ assertive, protective, spiritual, artistic, pragmatic, loyal
- outspoken, blunt, brazen, machiavellian, stubborn
She is determined to make something of herself. For a cat her age, she is assertive. She is confident in herself and does what she can to instill the same confidence in others, especially if she sees a younger apprentice struggling with a lesson. Once someone questions her courage, she never backs down no matter how dangerous the situation.
Fenpaw is protective not just over younger clanmates but every cat. If there's an argument, Fenpaw isn't afraid to step in and try to de-escalate the situation. She has a judicious nature and with her strong sense of fair play, she will try to find the best solution for everyone involved. This worked better when she was a kit, cute and endearing enough to disarm any cat, but after becoming an apprentice, Fenpaw came to see that adults don't want kittens intruding on their arguments acting like debate police. Therefore, she keeps this side of her personality mostly around other apprentices or young cats, stepping in to stop a cat getting picked on. While she may be brave in this sense, Fenpaw also dislikes getting into trouble and is unlikely to take the fall for another cat. If a cat is hinting or hiding something, Fenpaw might just bluntly say it. She has trouble keeping her true feelings hidden. Her sharp tongue might be her downfall.
She's a sucker for a pretty face. If there's a beautiful she-cat around, she'll be there to remark on it, and if you're the sort to compete for the girl's heart, she never passes up a friendly wager. Fenpaw loves to woo, flirt, and be romantic. She has a very spiritual side and faith in StarClan. She says that there are omens in every event and action, that StarClan tries to speak and we just need to listen. She believes in superstitions and intuitions, perhaps from spending her childhood listening to the elders. Their legends and stories inspired her to have a adventurous view of the world; many of them she has memorized completely. She is a kitty of the arts. To her, the legends of the past must never be forgotten, and she is frequently ridiculed out of earshot by other ThistleClanners for beliefs they consider outdated, weird, and childish. She makes songs out of the tales the elders tell.
Fenpaw has a good sense of logic. She is loyal and committed to ThistleClan, but she listens to what other cats have to say if it will improve her Clan as well. She knows the Warrior Code and knows that one day she may fight the other Clans in battle but... deep down, she'd rather kill someone in their sleep than fight fair. Taking advantage of the enemy's disadvantage is more important than honor. Her body's duel against bellyache gave her a grave understanding of what things like deathberries and crowfood could do to a cat.
- outspoken, blunt, brazen, machiavellian, stubborn
She is determined to make something of herself. For a cat her age, she is assertive. She is confident in herself and does what she can to instill the same confidence in others, especially if she sees a younger apprentice struggling with a lesson. Once someone questions her courage, she never backs down no matter how dangerous the situation.
Fenpaw is protective not just over younger clanmates but every cat. If there's an argument, Fenpaw isn't afraid to step in and try to de-escalate the situation. She has a judicious nature and with her strong sense of fair play, she will try to find the best solution for everyone involved. This worked better when she was a kit, cute and endearing enough to disarm any cat, but after becoming an apprentice, Fenpaw came to see that adults don't want kittens intruding on their arguments acting like debate police. Therefore, she keeps this side of her personality mostly around other apprentices or young cats, stepping in to stop a cat getting picked on. While she may be brave in this sense, Fenpaw also dislikes getting into trouble and is unlikely to take the fall for another cat. If a cat is hinting or hiding something, Fenpaw might just bluntly say it. She has trouble keeping her true feelings hidden. Her sharp tongue might be her downfall.
She's a sucker for a pretty face. If there's a beautiful she-cat around, she'll be there to remark on it, and if you're the sort to compete for the girl's heart, she never passes up a friendly wager. Fenpaw loves to woo, flirt, and be romantic. She has a very spiritual side and faith in StarClan. She says that there are omens in every event and action, that StarClan tries to speak and we just need to listen. She believes in superstitions and intuitions, perhaps from spending her childhood listening to the elders. Their legends and stories inspired her to have a adventurous view of the world; many of them she has memorized completely. She is a kitty of the arts. To her, the legends of the past must never be forgotten, and she is frequently ridiculed out of earshot by other ThistleClanners for beliefs they consider outdated, weird, and childish. She makes songs out of the tales the elders tell.
Fenpaw has a good sense of logic. She is loyal and committed to ThistleClan, but she listens to what other cats have to say if it will improve her Clan as well. She knows the Warrior Code and knows that one day she may fight the other Clans in battle but... deep down, she'd rather kill someone in their sleep than fight fair. Taking advantage of the enemy's disadvantage is more important than honor. Her body's duel against bellyache gave her a grave understanding of what things like deathberries and crowfood could do to a cat.
History
Fenkit's parents found companionship as fox attacks rocked ThistleClan. They came across each other in the chaos and became close in their shared goal for survival. Living in the tunnels put the whole clan in closer proximity than before. Her parents often found themselves repairing the same parts of camp or coming across each other doing the same tasks in the territory. They courted and were quite romantic between each other for many moons, but waited until things were more stable in ThistleClan before starting their family. Deaths were unfortunately common, like the devastating loss of the clan's deputy from greencough, then Yarrowfrost passing away a season later, followed by Froststar's sickness. Once ThistleClan's leadership stabilized, Fenkit's parents announced the pregnancy to the Clan and soon three kittens were born. They named their children Fenkit, Brindlekit, and Goldenkit.
Brindlekit was a tortie like her while Goldenkit was a ginger tabby tom. They played often while in the nest but Fenkit was first to peer over the pine needle walls and take in the sights of the nursery. Her eyes met an entire arena filled with other kittens and big queens lounging around protectively. Fenkit's fur puffed up, and her mother's rough tongue groomed it down to soothe her. "These are your clanmates, dearest. All the stories I've told you about your clan? Here they are. Some of these kits are your age so make friends with them." Fenkit was nudged to the edge of the nest.
There were many eyes on her as she leapt to the nursery floor, nose sniffing the ground. She occupied herself with smelling the whole place suspiciously, taking slow steps even as her mother laughingly introduced the nest-occupants she passed. When she came to one nest marked by long fluffy hair, her mother quickly called her back. To approach that white nest was taboo. Her parents said a curse had afflicted that one. Fenkit was told to stay away. She was forbidden from leaving camp, too, so if she wasn't by their home-nest, her time was spent in the elders' den. She listened to their stories every day and learned from their grizzled assertiveness toward and compassion over their younger clanmates. She grew up playing with pine needles and grass. Goldenkit's fur was always messy from rolling around, and Brindlekit and Fenkit smelled like sap. The whole landscape reeked of it, but their mother complained the most since she groomed the three of them everyday. Thus began the enforcement of self-grooming, and their mother no longer demanded they spend the night in her nest. One night, Brindlekit wanted to watch the night sky. She crawled out of the pile, waking up Fenkit who peered over the side after her. Brindlekit sat at the nursery exit for a long time. Fenkit started to nod off again. She wasn't sure how long she fell asleep, but the next time she opened her eyes, a lump shaped like Brindlekit was still at the doorway, with the longest shadow she'd ever seen. The shadow moved, and the moonlight coming through the entryway fell upon a shiny, frightening eye. She mewled loudly in fear, crying "Mama!" Her mother awoke instantly at the sound of her kit's alarm. "It's Brindlekit!" Fenkit pointed at the long writhing shadow at the den-way.
"A snake!" Her mother's yowl alerted the other queens. Fenkit watched her mother spring from the nest and gallop at the scary thing. It started moving, and that was when Fenkit realized Brindlekit was nowhere to be seen. The sounds of battle--hissing from both cats and snake--made her retreat to the bottom of the nest, curling up around Goldenkit, trembling together. In the morning, when they awoke and Brindlekit was still not there, their mother tearily informed them that their sister was with StarClan.
StarClan. It was a place in the skies, a home for all cats of the past. The elders told stories where the ancestors guided the main characters and special cats within their own clan, like the Medicine Cat, who were chosen to receive direct visions. Now it was home to her sister. After that, Goldenkit and Fenkit became closer. They formed a buddy system to keep each other safe through their kithood. Goldenkit was more rambunctious and adventurous than his sister, but Fenkit was not far behind and could always be goaded into following him around, if only to watch his back. The two were eager playmates as well as a rapt audience for elders' tales. Fenkit knew all the words by heart.
As she grew older and stronger, she earned her apprentice suffix and was granted a mentor who would hone her skills. She was thrilled to make something of herself and become a warrior of ThistleClan. Wandering the fields in search of prey and good smells was her favorite pasttime, as she usually spent her free time singing. Brindlekit's death was far behind her--it affected her parents more--and the fear of predators did little to deter Fenpaw from enjoying herself in ThistleClan's territory. With time and her mentor's training, she knew she'd be strong enough to defend herself and others. She was popular in the apprentice's den thanks to her friendly yet outspoken demeanor. While she and Goldenpaw were thick as thieves still, the two of them were starting to notice she-cats for their looks, even competing for hearts in some cases. Fenpaw liked hanging out with as many she-cats as possible. Of course, her mentor disapproved, mainly because the apprentice was a straight-up sucker when it came to a pretty face. Sometimes it was good to train through a distraction, but mostly her behavior was frustrating. When combined with her penchant for plopping herself into adult arguments like a peanut gallery, the young shecat could be obnoxious.
On one of these occasions, her mentor lost temper and ordered Fenpaw to return to camp. They were patrolling the bog with another mentor-apprentice pair, and the two mentors had been discussing the last Gathering heatedly between themselves. Fenpaw left her denmate and the two warriors, heading in the direction of camp at first, and then veering north until she felt thorns underfoot. No predators ran by, but Fenpaw saw a dead raccoon splayed out. She smelled opossum too, and saw it by the berry bushes, dead too. Free prey, Fenpaw thought, unable to believe her luck. She'd hunted early in the patrol but had buried it with the expectation that she'd be back to get it. She was hungry.
She pounced on the raccoon and played with it, using its forepaw as a chewtoy. It was rubbery to the touch, wobbling in place. Feeling bold, she lunged and bit down into the skin. A rush of putrescent hot air spilled into her mouth and sinus, and she tasted flesh that may as well have been poison. (She'd later be told that the vile stuff was called crowfood.) Fenpaw gagged. Staggering, Fenpaw ran toward camp and collapsed along the way.
Someone must have came across her in the field. When she awoke, she was in Ratwhisker's den, coming to just to vomit, and a paw turned her head aside so she wouldn't aspirate it. A wet ball of moss was pushed to her snout, and she licked gratefully, but it felt like all her strength had been sapped from her. She tried to take a sniff to figure out where she was, but instead the nausea returned and she closed her eyes again to ward it away.
The second time her eyes opened halfway, and a white blur hovered over her. She saw strange eyes peer at her, and in her incoherence, she wondered who was on the other side of that bush, peeking back. But they didn't speak, and neither did Fenpaw. Paws manipulated her head position, her jaws, her throat, massaging all these parts of her. She could hardly tell how much time had passed, but she was grateful for the bitter taste of the medicine cat's herbs. Sometimes when the poppy wore off, her eyes would crack open, and she would see a cat chewing roots and prey into a pulp. When he approached her with it, she took it gratefully, swallowing small bites.
When she finally could open her eyes again for longer than a few minutes, Fenpaw was ravenous and had lost weight in the interim. Only Goldenpaw and her parents were allowed to enter as a group and visit her, but it was determined that Fenpaw would make a full recovery so they did not worry much over her. Now that she was awake, she would remain in the medicine cat den for a few days, just until her bellyache passed and everything stabilized. She even felt well enough to practice singing scales!
"Let me guess, chervil and watermint?" she asked Ratwhisker on her last day. She'd memorized them after hearing him prescribe them enough times. It'd been the older tom who had nursed her back to health, so she felt like she owed him a life-debt or at the very least considered him a friend. There's something special to be said about the silent bond shared between the sick and the caretakers. Her life had been in his paws. This is a cat who deserves my protection the most, she thought.
It felt good to be back in action after that. Fenpaw gained some restraint with her debate moderating and made up with her mentor. She worked hard and stayed focused in all of her fighting lessons. Her hunts were always dedicated to StarClan, and she gave her biggest hunts to Ratwhisker (second biggest to her mother and the other queens). She was three moons into this apprenticeship schtick, and she felt this was all going great. The warrior ancestors had guided her paws true this far; she wasn't about to lose hope in them, no matter what the older cats gossiped about.
Brindlekit was a tortie like her while Goldenkit was a ginger tabby tom. They played often while in the nest but Fenkit was first to peer over the pine needle walls and take in the sights of the nursery. Her eyes met an entire arena filled with other kittens and big queens lounging around protectively. Fenkit's fur puffed up, and her mother's rough tongue groomed it down to soothe her. "These are your clanmates, dearest. All the stories I've told you about your clan? Here they are. Some of these kits are your age so make friends with them." Fenkit was nudged to the edge of the nest.
There were many eyes on her as she leapt to the nursery floor, nose sniffing the ground. She occupied herself with smelling the whole place suspiciously, taking slow steps even as her mother laughingly introduced the nest-occupants she passed. When she came to one nest marked by long fluffy hair, her mother quickly called her back. To approach that white nest was taboo. Her parents said a curse had afflicted that one. Fenkit was told to stay away. She was forbidden from leaving camp, too, so if she wasn't by their home-nest, her time was spent in the elders' den. She listened to their stories every day and learned from their grizzled assertiveness toward and compassion over their younger clanmates. She grew up playing with pine needles and grass. Goldenkit's fur was always messy from rolling around, and Brindlekit and Fenkit smelled like sap. The whole landscape reeked of it, but their mother complained the most since she groomed the three of them everyday. Thus began the enforcement of self-grooming, and their mother no longer demanded they spend the night in her nest. One night, Brindlekit wanted to watch the night sky. She crawled out of the pile, waking up Fenkit who peered over the side after her. Brindlekit sat at the nursery exit for a long time. Fenkit started to nod off again. She wasn't sure how long she fell asleep, but the next time she opened her eyes, a lump shaped like Brindlekit was still at the doorway, with the longest shadow she'd ever seen. The shadow moved, and the moonlight coming through the entryway fell upon a shiny, frightening eye. She mewled loudly in fear, crying "Mama!" Her mother awoke instantly at the sound of her kit's alarm. "It's Brindlekit!" Fenkit pointed at the long writhing shadow at the den-way.
"A snake!" Her mother's yowl alerted the other queens. Fenkit watched her mother spring from the nest and gallop at the scary thing. It started moving, and that was when Fenkit realized Brindlekit was nowhere to be seen. The sounds of battle--hissing from both cats and snake--made her retreat to the bottom of the nest, curling up around Goldenkit, trembling together. In the morning, when they awoke and Brindlekit was still not there, their mother tearily informed them that their sister was with StarClan.
StarClan. It was a place in the skies, a home for all cats of the past. The elders told stories where the ancestors guided the main characters and special cats within their own clan, like the Medicine Cat, who were chosen to receive direct visions. Now it was home to her sister. After that, Goldenkit and Fenkit became closer. They formed a buddy system to keep each other safe through their kithood. Goldenkit was more rambunctious and adventurous than his sister, but Fenkit was not far behind and could always be goaded into following him around, if only to watch his back. The two were eager playmates as well as a rapt audience for elders' tales. Fenkit knew all the words by heart.
As she grew older and stronger, she earned her apprentice suffix and was granted a mentor who would hone her skills. She was thrilled to make something of herself and become a warrior of ThistleClan. Wandering the fields in search of prey and good smells was her favorite pasttime, as she usually spent her free time singing. Brindlekit's death was far behind her--it affected her parents more--and the fear of predators did little to deter Fenpaw from enjoying herself in ThistleClan's territory. With time and her mentor's training, she knew she'd be strong enough to defend herself and others. She was popular in the apprentice's den thanks to her friendly yet outspoken demeanor. While she and Goldenpaw were thick as thieves still, the two of them were starting to notice she-cats for their looks, even competing for hearts in some cases. Fenpaw liked hanging out with as many she-cats as possible. Of course, her mentor disapproved, mainly because the apprentice was a straight-up sucker when it came to a pretty face. Sometimes it was good to train through a distraction, but mostly her behavior was frustrating. When combined with her penchant for plopping herself into adult arguments like a peanut gallery, the young shecat could be obnoxious.
On one of these occasions, her mentor lost temper and ordered Fenpaw to return to camp. They were patrolling the bog with another mentor-apprentice pair, and the two mentors had been discussing the last Gathering heatedly between themselves. Fenpaw left her denmate and the two warriors, heading in the direction of camp at first, and then veering north until she felt thorns underfoot. No predators ran by, but Fenpaw saw a dead raccoon splayed out. She smelled opossum too, and saw it by the berry bushes, dead too. Free prey, Fenpaw thought, unable to believe her luck. She'd hunted early in the patrol but had buried it with the expectation that she'd be back to get it. She was hungry.
She pounced on the raccoon and played with it, using its forepaw as a chewtoy. It was rubbery to the touch, wobbling in place. Feeling bold, she lunged and bit down into the skin. A rush of putrescent hot air spilled into her mouth and sinus, and she tasted flesh that may as well have been poison. (She'd later be told that the vile stuff was called crowfood.) Fenpaw gagged. Staggering, Fenpaw ran toward camp and collapsed along the way.
Someone must have came across her in the field. When she awoke, she was in Ratwhisker's den, coming to just to vomit, and a paw turned her head aside so she wouldn't aspirate it. A wet ball of moss was pushed to her snout, and she licked gratefully, but it felt like all her strength had been sapped from her. She tried to take a sniff to figure out where she was, but instead the nausea returned and she closed her eyes again to ward it away.
The second time her eyes opened halfway, and a white blur hovered over her. She saw strange eyes peer at her, and in her incoherence, she wondered who was on the other side of that bush, peeking back. But they didn't speak, and neither did Fenpaw. Paws manipulated her head position, her jaws, her throat, massaging all these parts of her. She could hardly tell how much time had passed, but she was grateful for the bitter taste of the medicine cat's herbs. Sometimes when the poppy wore off, her eyes would crack open, and she would see a cat chewing roots and prey into a pulp. When he approached her with it, she took it gratefully, swallowing small bites.
When she finally could open her eyes again for longer than a few minutes, Fenpaw was ravenous and had lost weight in the interim. Only Goldenpaw and her parents were allowed to enter as a group and visit her, but it was determined that Fenpaw would make a full recovery so they did not worry much over her. Now that she was awake, she would remain in the medicine cat den for a few days, just until her bellyache passed and everything stabilized. She even felt well enough to practice singing scales!
"Let me guess, chervil and watermint?" she asked Ratwhisker on her last day. She'd memorized them after hearing him prescribe them enough times. It'd been the older tom who had nursed her back to health, so she felt like she owed him a life-debt or at the very least considered him a friend. There's something special to be said about the silent bond shared between the sick and the caretakers. Her life had been in his paws. This is a cat who deserves my protection the most, she thought.
It felt good to be back in action after that. Fenpaw gained some restraint with her debate moderating and made up with her mentor. She worked hard and stayed focused in all of her fighting lessons. Her hunts were always dedicated to StarClan, and she gave her biggest hunts to Ratwhisker (second biggest to her mother and the other queens). She was three moons into this apprenticeship schtick, and she felt this was all going great. The warrior ancestors had guided her paws true this far; she wasn't about to lose hope in them, no matter what the older cats gossiped about.
