Post by dumpster on Aug 3, 2020 7:35:34 GMT -6
MEADOWFUR
LICHENCLAN
an odd-eyed white furred molly with calico freckles.
warrior
she-cat
17 moons
A p p e a r a n c e
Of average height and longer in the body than most, Meadowfur sports narrow features and thin proportions as an unfortunately permanent result of chronic undernourishment. The barest hint of her ribs permanently tempt at the flesh beneath her coat, and the molly’s hip bones and shoulders protrude just too much to be considered pretty. Small paws with freckled toes carry her swiftly and quietly through the caverns that LichenClan calls home… but never very far from home.
In truth a calico, Meadowfur’s markings are all but swallowed by a short, feathery coat of white fur. Red and black markings struggle to make their appearance across her face and over her toes; her shoulders and hips each sport a few paw-print sized markings… and some of her tail is black. The rest? All white.
Following along with her overall stature, Meadowfur’s facial structure has become almost gaunt in appearance. It isn’t her high cheekbones or small black nose that are noticed first and foremost, however, but her eyes. Sporting one brilliant blue eye and another that seemed to try and fuse amber and blue… failing into something beautiful and peculiar.
In truth a calico, Meadowfur’s markings are all but swallowed by a short, feathery coat of white fur. Red and black markings struggle to make their appearance across her face and over her toes; her shoulders and hips each sport a few paw-print sized markings… and some of her tail is black. The rest? All white.
Following along with her overall stature, Meadowfur’s facial structure has become almost gaunt in appearance. It isn’t her high cheekbones or small black nose that are noticed first and foremost, however, but her eyes. Sporting one brilliant blue eye and another that seemed to try and fuse amber and blue… failing into something beautiful and peculiar.
P e r s o n a l i t y
Optimistic, Cautious, Curious
Agreeable, Self-Conscious, Conformist
Easily Discouraged, Indecisive, Repressed
Escapist
Meadowfur has grown up being constantly reminded of her various weaknesses and delicate health… she couldn’t so much as enjoy a sunny day without being reminded of what would become of her. Such an upbringing and constant attentions from her mother has caused Meadowfur to become a very cautious figure… and more agreeable than anyone could say was healthy. She responds well to authority and prefers to let others take charge in social situations.
Rumored and somewhat legendary health problems have haunted the young molly all her life, preventing her from becoming a fully fledged warrior. According to the lengthy list of ailments and mysterious and unexplained symptoms the molly suffers from, she has a very delicate digestive system, is hard of hearing in one ear, has trouble balancing herself properly, and develops rashes if she’s in the sun too long… The validity of these peculiar ailments has been a hotly contested issue in the past – after all, most of her symptoms only seem to appear after time spent around her mother and caretaker. Any attention generated from her 'issues' leaves Meadowfur feeling embarrassed and anxious; she has grown to be rather self-conscious as a result.
It's not that she does not want to become a warrior, she privately finds the prospect of leaving the camp on long patrols with her clanmates to be thrilling, she just can't bear to disappoint her mother. Instead of considering the sources of her various ailments, Meadowfur chooses to repress any thought that her mother might be involved with her perpetually poor health and conforms to her wishes- her mother wants the best for her, after all. Left with little choice but to exist under her mother's watchful and auspicious vigil, Meadowfur does her best to escape with near constant daydreaming of a hopeful future free of illness and tries to live vicariously through her peers, often times watching from a modest distance as they drill and return from successful hunts.
Meadowfur longs to participate in patrols and hunting parties with her peers, and to become a true warrior of LichenClan -- not just one in name.
H i s t o r y
She had lost the others, but she wouldn’t lose this one…
Meadowkit would stay safe. Always.
“Can Meadowkit come and play with us?” a tiny voice probed.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry kits—she’s not feeling very well,” her mother said. A paw wrapped itself around her tiny frame and tugged her closer into her mother’s warmth… she felt fine, or at least she thought she did. Nestled into her mother’s belly, she missed the sharp look her mother fixed another queen with. Her mother knew what they were doing. Trying to give her a break, they’d say… but she knew.
She knew best. No one else cared enough.
“Well, she doesn’t hear very well on the one side, so that’s caused some balance issues for her; she’s got problems with her digestion, too, so I help her with fresh-kill when she’s feeling well enough to try it… she mostly still nurses, though,” her mother conversed with another queen. "She's almost four moons old now, so everyone is hoping that she'll make a turn around..." something in her mother's voice didn't sound hopeful.
Meadowkit sat at the entrance of the nursery and watched the other kits play outside. Moss-ball looks like fun, she thought as her supposedly deaf ear turned back to idly listen in on the conversation. It was one of her mother’s favorites – everything that was wrong with her. Her eyes fell to the other kits’ paws as she tucked her own more tightly underneath her narrow chest. She was small and thin for her age, but not for the reasons that her mother shared. She needed to eat more solid foods. She couldn’t rely on her mother’s dwindling supply of milk… but it was a choice she wasn’t given, and it made her mother so terribly sad and upset whenever she didn’t nurse.
“She’s been seen by the medicine cat, right?” the other queen asked.
“Tch, plenty of times,” her mother responded dryly, “doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, poor thing… at this rate, her apprenticeship’s going to be delayed,” it wasn’t worry in her voice, but something almost wistful instead.
Meadowkit was glad to be facing away from her mother so that she could frown. She didn't want to be a kit forever. She shifted in place and turned her eyes towards the sky for a moment... a mistake, it seemed.
“Meadowkit! Not so far, you know the sunshine will burn your ears and give you a rash!” her mother called.
With just a moment’s hesitation and a last look up at the bright blue sky, Meadowkit pushed herself to her paws and returned to her mother’s side, ignoring the pitying glance from the other queen, “I’m OK – thanks Mom,” Meadowkit mewed.
"You're so welcome, Sweetie," her mother's purr seemed thunderous as she began to groom Meadowkit's predominantly white fur, "You know I'll always be looking out for you!" she said.
She’s fine, she’s always been fine!
“You did really well! We’ll make a fine hunter out of you, yet!” her mentor praised her. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d been placed in charge of Meadowpaw’s training. He’d been told so much about what he couldn’t expect from her by her mother, and so he had thought that perhaps it was more of a courtesy that he train the young molly… but she showed promise.
Promise that he’d been told wasn’t possible for her.
He was beginning to wonder if it was really health issues that were holding Meadowpaw back.
“How’ve you been feeling, Meadowpaw?” he probed, watching as a mismatched set of eyes began to avoid his own.
“P-pretty good?” the young molly tried, ears shifting as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Was that the right thing to say…? “I guess maybe a little tired, but not a bad tired or anything, just… training tired…?” She couldn’t tell if she was saying the right thing or not. His face was impassive… patient.
“That’s good,” he finally said, “That’s one of the best sorts of ‘tired’ there is,” his eyes fell to the small sparrow that his apprentice had caught. Wheels turned. “You must be hungry,” he said, nudging the fresh-kill towards her, “Normally you should never eat before bringing something back to the Clan, but I hunted enough to make up for this earlier this morning… You’ve earned this, it was a great catch.” He watched her.
Meadowpaw’s ears pinned back as her eyes turned towards the bird on the ground. “I-I’m not…” she started, one narrow shoulder hitching upwards, “I’m not supposed to eat birds, Mom says they… they upset my stomach,” the words were unsure as she seemed to grow smaller in place.
“When’s the last time you’ve had a bird, Meadowpaw?” he asked her gently.
“When I was a kit, I… I guess. I think that’s why I had to nurse so long…” she admitted with an embarrassed shuffle. Her slow development had rendered her something of an outcast among many of her peers… and those that were kind enough to try and engage her and include her were quickly discouraged by her mother’s loving intervention.
“You’ve grown a lot since then!” the tom cat tried, “Why not try a few bites and see how it settles now that you’re older? Maybe something’s changed?”
“I don’t know… Mom will be upset if she knows that I ate something I wasn’t supposed to.” Meadowpaw worried. Was it just a test to see if she’d break the code…? No, he was kind, that couldn’t have been it… What if her mother was watching? Meadowpaw shifted her gaze around the shoreline. “I guess I can… try a few bites… Will you share it with me?” mismatched eyes finally sought out the older tom cat’s face; she was relieved to see the same gentle smile that she was used to seeing him wear, but there was something calculating in his eyes that made her stomach begin to twist.
“Of course, Meadowpaw.” He assured her.
“Do I just…?” Meadowpaw’s brow wrinkled as she hesitantly nipped at the belly of the bird with untrained fangs.
“Does your mother usually handle your fresh-kill for you, Meadowpaw?” he asked, offering no assistance to the young molly as she worked out how to remove the feathers.
“Y-yeah, she… uh, pfft pft…” she paused to spit out feathers, “she tears up the meat that’s alright for me to eat; I… have a sensitive stomach.” She hesitated as she stared down at the prepared bird.
“It’s alright, Meadowpaw. You did a good job,” the tom cat said.
Her stomach started to twist. She knew her mother was going to be upset if she found out… “Y-you won’t tell my mom, right…?” she worried.
“No.” he said.
In the end, Meadowpaw wasn’t sure if it had been the bird or her worries that had upset her stomach so much… but when she returned to camp and her mother asked about her training, her stomach kept rolling and twisting inside. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was wrong.
Meadowpaw didn’t know.
I won’t let him have her! I won’t let him take her!
“She’s not ready for that!” her mother spat, arching her spine nearly nose-to-nose with Meadowpaw’s mentor. “You can’t keep pushing her like this, it’s horrible for her health!” Her lips were curled with a mix of indignation and hostility.
“She’s FINE!” the tom cat growled in return, the fur along his spine bristling. It seemed that at every step of the way, Meadowpaw’s damned mother was trying to wrestle the poor molly back into the nursery. She seemed to hate it when she succeeded; she couldn’t stand to hear how Meadowpaw was nearly ready to prepare for her Trial. “There is NOTHING wrong with Meadowpaw!” he hissed.
“You’re going to get her killed!” her mother snarled, “She’s been so drained—she can’t even eat these days!”
“Well, maybe she doesn’t like having her food chewed for her!”
“She can’t chew it well enough to avoid her indigestion if I don’t tear it first! She needs me!” her mother said.
“Stars above, do you even HEAR yourself?” the tom cat spat, arching his neck back in disbelief. “She’s twelve moons old, you batty twit!”
“How dare you!” her mother said hotly. Rage twisted inside of her. He was trying to take Meadowpaw from her… but he couldn’t care for her like she could. He didn’t even acknowledge everything that made her so special! Meadowpaw would never make it on her own – or with anyone else at her side. “I’m her mother,” she said, her voice menacingly quiet.
“And I’m her mentor—”
“Not anymore!”
“—you what?” he said incredulously. “You can’t be serious, that’s not your decision to make,” he couldn’t help it—he laughed at her.
“You’re making her sick!” the molly insisted, “I won’t let you keep draining the life out of her,” she told him, ears pinning back as her chin tipped up determinedly. “I’ll prove it to them; when Minnowstar and Cinderface see how poorly she’s doing under your wing, they’ll agree.” She said.
They’d see how sick Meadowpaw was… she’d prove it to them.
She’d keep Meadowpaw safe.
Maybe Mother’s right… maybe something’s wrong with me.
“It’s alright Meadowfur, really!” her mother tried to soothe her, but Meadowfur’s sense of melancholy had permeated ever since her mother-turned-mentor informed her that she wouldn’t be able to participate in the vigil with the other new warriors her age. “I already handled it; you’ll have a modified confession—just your paws will get wet, and then you can dry them! Isn’t that great? You won’t catch sick, now! It’d all be useless if you caught sick, anyway,” she said.
“I was really looking forward to it… I wanted to do it with the others,” Meadowfur confessed.
“Well that right there should go into your confession, Meadowfur,” her mother chided her, “Putting some silly sense of pride above your health and how to keep you in the best shape for the Clan is just selfish,” she mrrowled, ears pinning back as her lips pursed tightly. “You haven’t been grooming well enough lately, is something wrong? Have you got a cold? We can ask them to post-pone the vigil entirely if—” her mother probed while grooming her daughter’s forehead.
“No! No, no, I’m alright—don’t worry, Mom… I-“ she paused, catching her mother’s critical eye as it descended upon her, “I’m just a little tired, I guess… n-not a bad tired… I’ll go to bed early tonight,” she promised. This seemed to settle her mother… somewhat.
“There’s a good girl,” her mother said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “You’ve got to start taking care of yourself, Meadowfur… I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” She said.
Meadowfur’s stomach was rolling and pitching about in her belly again… she felt like she might throw up. She’d felt sicker than ever in recent moons… maybe something was wrong with her. Her mother left to share tongues with another older molly, and Meadowfur remained curled up where she’d been for a time… a shadow fell across her, and she looked up to see another cat approaching their vigil.
“Hey, a few of us were going for a hunt before our vigil… do you want to come with us?” the young cat offered.
“I—” a list of every reason why she shouldn’t threatened to spill forward, and her eyes cut over to where her mother had settled down with another molly. Her heart thudded as she looked back up at the other young cat. “Yes, yeah—I want to go, I want to go, too,” she said in a rush, rising to her paws.
“Okay, cool. It’s alright if you don’t catch anything, I know you’ve got… y'know,” the other cat cleared their throat and then managed a smile for Meadowfur. “Feel free to tag along, though.”
“I’ll catch something—” she stammered, “Th-thanks… for including me,” she added awkwardly.
She didn’t catch anything that evening with the other new warriors… but she smiled more than she had in moons... and her stomach didn't hurt again until she returned to the nest she shared with her mother.