t h e | f l o c kn a m e: Caroline Nicholet Smith
n i c k n a m e: Cattie
a g e: 9
g e n d e r: Female
r a n k: Apprentice Fighter
p e r s o n a l i t y: Caroline is an intense, somewhat bloodthirsty young girl. She's well equipped for battle with a quiver and light-weight bow over her shoulder and a couple of spears in her knapsack that she always slings behind her back. While Cattie sometimes gets overboard with war and the exhilaration of fighting, she has an extremely optimistic personality when helping her flock. Cattie usually likes to help out, and her love for flight is remarkable. She can be obstinate, though; her stubbornness can annoy the heck out of some of the Flock.
h i s t o r y: Cattie was born somewhere in Colorado and taken to the school when she was born. Her mother was told that Cattie had died on birth, but Caroline doesn't know this and thinks that her mother had given her up to the School without a thought. Cattie was grown up in a cage, like most of the Flock, but signifigantly hurt one of the scientists, and therefore escaped, by taking a loose metal bar from the top of her cage and stabbing the scientist in the eye. It was disgusting, believe me.
Cattie then fled from the terrible School and took off on her own for a while. Even though she was just five years old, she was extremely tall at 4'10 and was a light-footed, agile fighter. It helped that she had wings.
Cattie found the flock and reluctantly joined after she nearly was killed by an Eraser. She's been happy for a while.
Of course, that was after she found out how to create weapons.

h a i r | c o l o r: Dirty blonde with lighter streaks
e y e | c o l o r: Murky green
h e i g h t: 5'4
w e i g h t: 81lbs
d e s c r i p t i o n | i n | w o r d s: Cattie does resemble a teenage girl on the outside; long, flippy hair; a habit of biting her lip; and beautiful peach-colored skin. Her eyes are unsettling; the murky green seems to slice right through to your soul, as if she was already reading your body language on how to kill you. Cattie is a pretty girl, otherwise.
Her wings are a creamy, smoky-black dappled color on the underside and a black color on the upperside. They're long for her age and tinted with a gold cream.
w i n g | s p a n: 15.7 feet
l i k e s: Creating weapons, helping out, Ramen Noodle Soup, war and fighting, winning an argument
d i s l i k e s: Being shunned, losing a fight, cold Ramen Noodle Soup, and peace treaties
h a t e s: Erasers, the School, and inedible Ramen Noodle Soup.
c r u s h: *Cough, cough* No one... *Averts eyes*
b o y f r i e n d / g i r l f r i e n d: Me? A boyfriend? Nevah.
r a n d o m | f a c t: She likes Ramen Noodle Soup when it basically burns flesh off. She also likes broccoli.
p o w e r: She can create weapons out of basically everything and anything.
e r a s e rn a m e: Christopher Rachet Black
n i c k n a m e: Black
a g e: 17
g e n d e r: Male
r a n k: Head Hunter
p e r s o n a l i t y: Black isn't what most would expect. He isn't bloodthirsty, or full of revenge, or an extreme murderer, or focused on killing the flock. Instead, he's mostly a confident young man and the ability to grin anywhere at anything with anybody. He most likely would've been a respected man- if it wasn't for him being an Eraser, of course.
h i s t o r y: Black became an Eraser as he became more and more depressed. As soon as he made the decision, he sold himself to the School and trained as a Hunter. He hates to kill, and has never harmed anybody other than who he needs to. After a couple of years, he's learned that being able to transform into a wolf isn't all it turned out to be, and he wishes nothing more (secretly) than to be a part of the flock and fly.
h a i r | c o l o r: Dark Brown
e y e | c o l o r: Silver
h e i g h t: 6'5
w e i g h t: 156 lbs
d e s c r i p t i o n | i n | w o r d s: Black towers above most with thick, muscular arms and legs and short brown hair. He has an odd gaze, with it being silver and all.
f u r | c o l o r: Creamy brown
l i k e s: The thrill of the hunt, leading
d i s l i k e s: Killing, colds, cats
h a t e s: Touching the flock's wings, being kicked in the lower abdomen
c r u s h: You don't need to know
b o y f r i e n d / g i r l f r i e n d: If I had one, I wouldn't be standing here now.
r a n d o m | f a c t: He actually wishes to be a part of the flock most of the time.