[Knickknacks]

Cindersnow? perhaps~

[.sins.]

Username: .sins.
Name: Shatteredice
Gender: male
Age: moons
Rank: Warrior
Clan: Strawberryclan

Personality: wip
History: wip

[shoelaces]

dropping out- goodluck everyone <333

[Kazin]

Username: Kazin
Name: Silvercrow
Gender: tom
Age: 60 moons
Rank: Warrior
Clan: Zephyrclan

Personality:
A tough tom, he comes across as standoffish and as a loner. Rough around the edges, Silvercrow doesn't really like to hang around other cats that much - especially the loud ones. While he doesn't necessarily love to be by himself, he does like it quiet and would much rather be with a few cats rather than the entire clan and the young, more boisterous cats. He can get quite snappy around apprentices and kits, not liking their energy or consistent questions. He is almost always willing to fight, whether it be through an argument or using his claws, and does not do well around other cats that may also have a bit of an attitude or don't know when to back down. He can be quite mean if he wanted to be, though he tries to hold back his strength and be more accepting of the cats around him.

Beyond the surface of his being, Silvercrow does have a soft spot for a few cats, though he would never let it show. Despite never liking young cats, he is fiercely protective of Hickorypaw. He sees himself in the young cat; the go-getter attitude, the fierce determination to simply do better, and the resilience that the young at has shown. Silvercrow is often seen dropping in on Hickorypaw's training sessions with his mentor, willing to give a tip or two on how the young apprentice's mentor might better be able to teach him, or give a tip to Hickorypaw on how better to listen to what his mentor is saying. The relationship baffles Silvercrow himself, unsure of how it came about, but he will never stop watching out for the young tom.

History:
Growing up in a Twoleg barn was not easy for this cat. While most cats were friendly, Silvercrow found himself hanging around on the fringe, away from the Twolegs, and with the cats that were definitely fighters to the core. They saw what they wanted, and they took it. They saw Silvercrow for a strong cat, taking him into their smaller sub group to have him be a fighter. He was known as Brute back then, and he allowed the rough barn cats to shape him into the fighting machine they wanted him to be. They claimed pieces of the barn territory, refusing to let the softer and friendlier barn cats near them. It got to a point where Silvercrow had been instructed to attack Twolegs if they came near, and he never questioned these cats he idolized, wanting to be as strong as they were. He scratched many Twolegs in his time as a barn cat, though eventually the Twolegs fought back.

They came with nets and cages with metal bars one afternoon, picking up all the barn cats they could find and pushing them into cages and big monsters, the cats yowling and scattering. Silvercrow was lucky enough to get away, barely escaping the reach of a Twoleg's paws. He was on his own after that, wandering in various territories, taking what he wanted and ignoring any cat that felt he was doing something wrong. Come and stop me, he would think, daring any cat to attack him. He knew his own strength, and never once worried about being able to win a fight.

Silvercrow's views only changed when he met the cats of Zephyrclan. They were different from the others he had met. A whole entire band of cats that had come from backgrounds similar to him mixed in with the softer, more approachable cats. The idea of different cats from such different backgrounds intrigued him, and he stayed in the area for quite some time to observe them from afar. It was nearly a whole cycle of seasons later that he decided he wanted to join these cats, so interested in this clan, becoming a warrior of the clan. Silvercrow was given his warrior name, abandoning Brute and the lifestyle that came with the name.

Instrumental:
Overcome from the Tales of Symphonia OST.

[kiffell]

Username: kiffell
Name: Blacksky
Gender: tom
Age: 32 moons
Rank: warrior
Clan: https://toyhou.se/kiffell/characters/folder:798470

Personality: wip
History: wip

[kamelgirl]

username: kamelgirl
name: north (refused to take a clan name)
gender: tom
age: 48 moons
rank: medicine cat
clan: rimeclan

personality: while north is a remarkably skilled healer, he makes for a terrible nurse. he's rude, snappish, and has an abysmal bedside manner. his extensive travels and experience have made him arrogant; north is used to being the smartest cat in the room, and he knows it. while north does have a softer side, it's shown only to those who have managed to win his respect - which is very, very rare.

1. abrasive. somehow, meetings with north always seem to get off on the wrong foot. he's not an easy cat to like; he has a sharp tongue and has no qualms using it. north has no time for fussy or nervous patients, even when their concerns are legitimate. he's often pretty snappy towards anyone who questions his judgement... and also just snappy in general.
2. arrogant. north always gives the impression that he's got somewhere better to be. he's highly intelligent and this, combined with his practical knowledge in almost every subject, has given him an ugly superiority complex. north tends to be dismissive of other cats even when their experience in an area overshadows his own, which has gotten him into trouble before.
3. calculating. for a healer, north can be very mercenary. he rarely does anything for free, and there's always a reason for every action he takes. because he's rather duplicitous himself, he's always looking for ulterior motives in other people, and it's difficult for him to understand cats who are entirely genuine.
4. clever. north is keenly intelligent and has the hunger for knowledge to match it. as a kit, he eagerly devoured every scrap of learning he could find; though he's a bit more picky now, that much hasn't changed.
5. compassionate. under his prickly exterior, north actually does have a compassionate streak - it's just buried deep. very deep. he's never been particularly demonstrative, but his difficulty showing kindness may stem from the time he spent alone on the streets. there, any show of sympathy was seen as a weakness to be stamped out, and he's never quite gotten rid of this mentality.

history: (5+1. north viewed from the eyes of others, plus himself. this got away from me i'm so sorry ;-;)

1. For the third time that day, Rose doubled over in a coughing fit. Something deep in her lungs caught, then gave, and a wad of saliva mixed with blood hit the frosty pavement at her feet. Oh. That's not right, she realized with faint surprise.

A few pawsteps in front of her, North glanced back at the noise, then did a double-take. "Mom, you're sick!" her kit cried out, darting to her side.

"It's just a cold, sweetheart," Rose rasped. "It'll go away soon. Don't worry about me, just keep going." North gave her a dubious look, but when Rose began walking again he pressed himself close to her side and said nothing. He'd always been a sharp kit, she knew. North had always been able to see through her white lies and false promises - Daddy's coming back, just you wait and see, or just eat the mouse, I'm not hungry, or, most frequently nowadays, don't worry, I'm fine. "You've always been my clever boy," she whispered, hardly noticing as her paws stumbled over each other.

North's eyes were stretched wide with terror. "Mom - mom!" He darted beneath her chest, propping her up as her body collapsed.

Even though it was the depths of winter, she felt warm and light, like she was floating in sunlit water. North wiggled out from beneath her and, panic-stricken, tried to push her to her feet. A wave of affection for her kit flooded her; he'd always loved her so much. "My good baby," she whispered, reaching out a shaking paw to touch his face. The tips of her pads brushed his soft kitten fluff just before her paw dropped to the ground.

Dimly, Rose could hear North's frantic cries, see him calling for help, feel him shaking her frantically. Mostly, though, she couldn't sense anything; she was hanging, suspended, in a colorless void without fears or sorrows or pain. The last thing she felt was his tiny paws kneading her belly, like they'd done when he was a kit, before her eyes closed for the last time.

2. Fern sprawled out lazily, soaking up the heat from the sun-kissed pavement. Luxuriously, she stretched every leg one by one before rolling onto her back, white paws tucked close to her chest. For a single, blissful moment, nothing at all was wrong with the world.

"-coming through!" A silver-streaked blur skidded through her comfy space, sending up flurries of dust and kicking Fern in the stomach. She rolled onto her paws and sprang back in one fluid movement, arching her back in a hiss.

The kid perched comfortably on the very tip of a nearby picket fence. He looked wild, with scraggly patches of lost fur and raw, red scratches running down his side. She didn't even have to look closely to count every rib in his side. Poor kid. Fern relaxed her spine, plopping onto the ground. The startled anger faded, replaced by curiosity. "Hey, brat. You one of those strays?"

"Strays?" the kid curled his lip. "I'm a feral, housecat. I don't answer to any Twolegs."

Ugh. One of the uppity ones, then. Any sympathy she'd had vanished. "Ooh, look at me," Fern mocked him, spinning around. "I'm a wildcat, catching my own prey in the wild like a barbarian - I might die alone in a gutter in a couple years, but at least I'm not a - oof!" she broke off as the kid tackled her from behind.

They tumbled over a couple times before Fern dug in her heels and flipped herself upright. Like she'd thought, the kid was a shrimp; he was wiry, but no match for Fern, who was well-fed and actually healthy. She shrugged him off easily, then whipped around lightning-fast and pinned him to the ground. The kid writhed furiously, but there was nothing he could do. "You done picking fights you can't win, brat?" she sneered.

With an exhausted sigh, the brat went limp. Fern let him go, bracing herself in case he decided to attack again, but the kid simply pushed himself to his paws and tugged away.

He looked really tired. ... maybe I was too harsh. "Kid, don't be like that," Fern said, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. The kid flinched away from her paw, and then looked like he wished he hadn't. Pity flickered in her chest. "You got anywhere to go back to, kiddo?" she asked.

The kid looked at the ground and muttered something beneath his breath.

Fern tilted her head. "A little louder, please."

"I'm with the Rat's Nest," he growled. "There's a couple safehouses around here."

"You're in a gang?" Fern raised her eyes to the heavens. "Stars. They'll suck you dry and throw you out to rot. You know that?" The kid didn't say anything, so he probably did. "Well, I'll tell you what. You come back to my house and spend a night or two with me - don't give me that look, you won't be staying permanently - and in the morning, I'll call in a favor or two to get you out of your gang. I've got a friend who's been looking for an apprentice - you ever thought of going into healing, kid?"

Seeing the brat's eyes light up made everything - including the uninviting prospect of calling up that cranky old tom - absolutely worth it. She's always had a soft spot for angry, lost kids.

3. With a final, excruciating heave, Snap hoisted herself onto the wall. The wound in her shoulder burned painfully with the movement, and the stench of crow-fodder wafted towards her nose. Snap averted her eyes; the green rot infecting the wound was not something she wanted to see more than once.

The wall she perched on ran along the edge of an overgrown garden surrounding an old Twoleg house. The house was rundown and had been abandoned for a long time, but the walls were still sturdy enough to make it perfect for a base. Beneath a broken window, a pile of Twoleg trash had been heaped up to make a ramp for easy climbing.

This must be the right place, she decided, leaping down from the wall. Her shoulder throbbed as it absorbed the impact, but Snap ignored the pain. "Hello?" she called out. "It's Snap. Ray sent me." A moment later, she heard a scrabbling noise from inside the house. After a brief hesitation, a silver-and-white tom poked his head out.

"Well, get inside," he snapped, suspicion coating his voice. "Don't alert the whole neighborhood that you're here, idiot."

Great. Another bad-tempered healer. Snap pushed past the towering grass in the yard, wincing as sharp leaves dragged across her wound. When she emerged from the garden, the healer was waiting for her. Without a word, he sniffed her shoulder, grimaced, and began herding her over to the window with more impatience than she felt really necessary. "I can walk by myself," she growled at him.

"Could've fooled me," he scoffed, but he laid off as she painstakingly ascended the trash heap and clambered in through the window.

As soon as she was inside, the healer brushed roughly past her and began heading upstairs. "Follow me," he ordered without bothering to see if she was following. Snap curled her lip but followed in his pawsteps, watch dust swirl around them as they moved.

The process of going upstairs was difficult. She'd already exhausted herself with the surrounding wall, and the staircase with its high-set stairs was nearly impossible for her to climb by herself. The healer, as she'd expected, was less than useless with the entire endeavor. When they reached the top, he set off again for a room at the very end of a long hallway. On either side of the hall, enormous doors stood half-open, revealing the empty rooms behind them.

"Those rooms are where we keep patients who stay overnight or longer," the healer said abruptly. Snap glanced at him to see he was still facing away from her. "We don't have any right now."

We, then? "So you're not here alone?" she asked.

"It's just me and my mentor."

Snap didn't bother responding to that, but when the silence returned, it seemed less heavy. A few moments later, the tom stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall and pushed it open with his nose. The room was mostly empty aside from the rows and rows of small containers, plates, and bowls; anything and everything that could hold herbs and medicines was arranged in long, neat columns along the walls. A tall, thin tom was bent over one of these, grinding up something Snap couldn't identify.

He looked up when they entered. "Ah, North. You've returned with our visitor?" he croaked.

The young healer - North - nodded briskly. "Ray sent her," he reported.

The tom abandoned the medicines and straightened up. "Best not keep her waiting, then." He walked past the, touching North briefly on the shoulder with his tail, and was gone.

"He'll be going to bring in more herbs from the garden," North explained at Snap's questioning look. "With leaf-bare coming in soon, we need to harvest all we can before it freezes. Sit down here," he added, gesturing at an empty spot on the floor.

Snap settled down with a sigh as the strain on her shoulder eased. "I've never been to this place before," she said, watching North as he bustled around the room, collecting various herbs. "The gang usually sends me to the base near the bridge. Are there many of them?"

"You mean healing facilities?" North returned, carrying a tiny pail in his mouth. He set it down, letting water splash out of the sides, before continuing. "There's a few. We're one of the smaller ones. This is going to hurt, so hold still and don't whine." North dipped a scrap of Twoleg cloth in the water and began swiping it across her wound with his paws. Despite his prickly words, Snap was surprised by his gentleness.

"So why'd you become a healer?" she wondered out loud. The rhythmic strokes stopped for a moment, then picked up against with slightly more force than before.

"Just wanted to. No one messes with healers."

"That doesn't make sense, though," Snap protested. "You don't have the personality for it. Even if you don't want to join a gang, there's plenty of loners and rogues who don't get bothered by anyone. You're young enough that you could probably get picked up by a Twoleg, even. So why healing?"

She was answered with only silence. Snap looked up to see North laser-focused on her shoulder, as though trying to burn out the infection with his eyes. Involuntarily, she shuddered. "When I was very young," he said slowly, without turning his gaze away from the wound, "Someone I cared about died from disease. It was a relatively common disease with a simple cure. If I'd known then, I could've saved her. That's all."

Oh. Snap felt awkward. Most cats had lost someone, but one didn't ask people about it. "Sorry for asking," she mumbled, then felt obligated to add: "Thanks for telling me, though."

She could feel his eyes on her, calculating. Then - "Don't worry about it," he muttered gruffly. "Thanks for... not making a big deal."

She let him treat her in silence after that.

4. "And you're sure this rogue can cure her?" Wolf asked again.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Stop stressing so much. Cats from here to the mountains have assured me that he's competent and very good at what he does. Mio recommended him - you remember Mio?"

"Of course I remember Mio!" Wolf ground his teeth. It's not that I don't trust Mio, it's just... "She's already so close to dying, I can smell the scent of death on her," he confessed quietly. "If this rogue healer makes her worse, I don't know what I'll do." We can't lose Heather. Not so soon after-

His mate's eyes softened. "She's my daughter too, Wolf. And believe me when I say this - I trust this tom with her life. So have a little faith, alright?"

Wolf huffed and brushed his nose against her ear, which was as close to a surrender as she was going to get. I'm still going to watch that rogue like a hawk, though.

A harsh cough from the entryway of their small den broke into their conversation. "Anytime you're done..." the silver-and-white tom gestured meaningfully at the two of them. The fur on Wolf's back bristled, but he flattened it down forcibly. If this healer insisted on being an arrogant snake, that was his business. Wolf had dealt with plenty of his kind before; he would not give this cat the pleasure of seeing him angry.

"Heather's this way," he said instead, turning his back on the rogue to head down a different tunnel. "Follow."

There was a faint but audibly irritated noise behind him. Wolf resisted the urge to smile.

"It started a few days ago," Grace told the healer as they walked. "She hadn't been eating well for some time before that, but she came down with a fever and it's only grown worse since. We don't know what to do."

The healer's voice sounded bored. "Sounds like a few different things. What about delirium? Has she been vomiting?"

"She's been delirious," Wolf growled, making both of them jump. "Though she hasn't vomited. Right here," he added, turning the corner into the burrow they'd hollowed out for Heather. The she-cat - still with kitten fluff around the ears - was curled tightly in her nest of moss and down feathers. She was shivering, though clearly wracked by fever. The rasping of her breathing was the only sound in the chamber as the three cats watched her silently.

Then the rogue sighed and, with two quick strides, had pushed past Wolf to his daughter's side. "Looks like yellowcough, though I'd have to check her throat to be sure... yep. That's yellowcough," he determined, grimacing at her throat. "Don't suppose you have any lungwort around here?"

Grace and Wolf glanced at each other. That diagnosis was weirdly fast, Wolf thought. But - Trust me, Grace's eyes pleaded. Wolf turned back to the rogue with a sigh. "What does it look like?"

The healer rolled his eyes, as though he hadn't expected any better from them but was still disappointed. "Dark green leaves with gray speckles. I need the leaves."

"I think I know where a plant like that is," Grace volunteered. "I'll go grab some. Don't kill each other, now," she added, brushing her tail over Wolf's muzzle as she left.

"You two are disgusting," the healer observed as soon as Grace was out of range. The dreamy smile slid right off Wolf's face.

"You're remarkably obnoxious for a healer," Wolf shot back. "Why'd you bother becoming one in the first place?"

The healer wrinkled his nose. "Why do people always ask me that?"

"Because you're a jerk."

"That was a rhetorical question," the rogue emphasized. "It's like I'm here out of the goodness of my heart, or something. I'm in it for the bonuses. No one messes with me, I get to stay places for free, and people have do whatever I tell them to... no matter how obnoxious I am in the meantime." He flashed Wolf a smile that he was fairly certain was perfectly calculated to irritate him. Well, it's working.

"M-Mica?"

Argument forgotten, Wolf whipped around to see Heather struggling to open her eyes. "Mica? Where are you?" she croaked again.

Wolf was at his daughter's side in a heartbeat. Wrapping his tail around her protectively, he whispered, "Lie still, dearest. Mica's out hunting, remember? She'll be back soon." With one more feverish mutter, Heather fell still. Wolf gently lapped the top of her head, then tensed. Feeling a growl rumbling in his chest, he swung his head up to find the healer's eyes burning directly into his own.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Then: "Mica's not really hunting, is she?" the healer asked. His voice was softer than before, Wolf noted.

He narrowed his eyes. "No," Wolf said quietly. "She died two moons ago. Heather was with her at the time."

The healer looked away first. Absently, his gaze roved over Heather's limp body like he was seeing someone else, long since dead.

Wolf bristled. I need you here, rogue! "Listen to me, healer," he growled. "You must save Heather. I cannot lose another daughter."

At first, the healer didn't seem to hear him. Then, finally, his amber gaze refocused, meeting Wolf's own. "Stop fretting so much," he murmured. Though the words were harsh, his tone was something nearly gentle. "I'm the best healer around. She's in good paws."

Is that a promise? Wolf's tail curled tighter around his daughter.

Then there was a scrabbling of paws at the door and Grace burst in. "I have the lungwort," his mate panted, spitting out the precious leaves. "Can you save her?"

The healer raised his head confidently, a smirk spreading across his face. "Of course I will."

5. Petalpaw whimpered.

North bared his teeth in frustration. "Honestly, get a grip! It's one measly thorn!"

The apprentice sniffled loudly. "But it's a huge thorn!"

"It's about half the size of your claw."

"It's huge!"

Pineheart ducked his head to hide a smile. Though North had always had an iron grip on his temper, he was still no match for Petalpaw.

"Hello, Pineheart. How's our rogue medicine cat doing?"

Pineheart looked up to see Eveningstar settle herself next to him, tail wrapped primly around her paws. "He's patched up Wrenfeather for the moment," he reported. "Petalpaw came in with a thorn in her paw, so he's seeing to that right now." They both fell silent to listen to Petalpaw's complaints as North attempted to grip the thorn. It wasn't going well.

"This is your friend?" Eveningstar asked after a beat.

"I don't know that North has any friends, honestly," Pineheart muttered, then said more loudly: "I met him last leaf-bare and, trust me, he's one of the finest healers you'll ever meet."

In the background, Petalpaw squeaked in dismay. "Shut up and let me work, brat," North snarled. Eveningstar shot Pineheart a skeptical look.

Pineheart nibbled his lip. "Petalpaw is... a unique case."

"Hmm. Sure."

The conversation lapsed into silence. Deputy and leader sat quietly together, watching the healer attempt to wrestle Petalpaw's foot into position amid much squirming and frustrated shouting.

"You know," Eveningstar said suddenly, just as Petalpaw squealed shrilly enough to blow out Pineheart's eardrums, "I'm tired of being the medicine cat. We should make this guy be the medicine cat instead."

... what? Slowly, Pineheart turned his head to stare incredulously at Eveningstar. I respect you as a leader, I really do, but... "That's nuts," he said bluntly. "He'll never go for it, he's a rogue. They value their independence. What could we possibly offer him that he doesn't have already?"

Eveningstar turned a considering eye on North. "Protection. Companionship. A stable home. Even the most solitary cats normally have a territory; as a general rule, we stick to routine and known territory over uncertainties."

"Other cats, maybe. This one's a piece of work."

His leader shrugged. "If he doesn't accept, we can always kidnap him."

Pineheart squinted at her, genuinely unsure if she was joking or not.

"Or break his legs. Without his legs he can't leave, there's nowhere else to go for miles around."

Oh stars, I don't think she's joking. "Eveningstar," Pineheart breathed, scandalized. "You can't just kidnap people. Or break their legs," he added as she opened her mouth to retort.

Eveningstar closed her mouth. Behind them, Petalpaw let out an almighty screech as North finally managed to hook his teeth around the thorn in her paw. With an enormous effort, he ripped it out, sprinkling blood droplets into the air. The thorn, somehow, had been embedded upside-down so that the thick, blunt part had been embedded in her paw. "You see," Petalpaw shrieked. "It's huge!"

North spat the thorn out and flung up his paws in disgust. "How'd you even do that - never in my life have I ever seen anyone get the thorn in backwards -"

Petalpaw wasn't listening. "I told you it was huge!"

Next to Pineheart, Eveningstar stood up in one fluid movement. "I'd better go rescue our medicine cat," she whispered to him, ignoring Pineheart's skeptical look. "North!" she called out. "Having fun?"

North snorted, not looking up from Petalpaw's foot. "Eveningstar, I have never been more glad in my life that I never stick around. If I had to treat this kid every day, I'd lose my mind." Pineheart winced. Eveningstar seemed undeterred.

"Funny you should mention that. North, how would you like to become Rimeclan's medicine cat?"

The rogue actually dropped Petalpaw's foot, ignoring her squeak, and squinted at Eveningstar as though she'd gone insane. "Medicine cat - you mean healer? Are you nuts?" He lifted his head defiantly, glaring directly into her eyes. "I literally just said no. I'd never stick around this place in a million years, and that's final."

+ 1. "- and I swear to your precious Starclan above, if I catch you jumping into the river in the middle of leaf-bare again, I'll kill you myself. Is that clear?"

"Yes, North," Wrenfeather muttered dully, punctuated with a monstrous sneeze.

"Honestly, the lot of you are worse than kits," North snarled, throwing a limp pile of tansy on the ground in front of her. "Eat that. And please, for my sake if not your own, stop doing idiotic things for kicks."

"Yes, North." Obediently, she leaned over to lap up the tansy. North, still seething with fury, went back to the herb stores for lack of anything better to do and started slamming random ingredients around.

I still cannot believe I actually stayed. Something must be wrong with me. North shoved the juniper berries aside with perhaps more force than they really deserved. Really, what's keeping me from just leaving these morons behind?

"Nor'?"

"Hmm?" North didn't bother turning around. "What is it."

"Th'nks f'r... f'r ev'rythin''," Wrenfeather slurred out. Likely the poppy seeds he'd slipped in were finally starting to kick in. North sniffed borage, which seemed a bit stale. "'m so glad y'came."

Wait. "What?" North spun to look at her. The she-cat was sprawled in her nest, blinking sleepily up at him.

"Th' bes' med'cine cat ev'r," she said, an enormous smile spreading across her face. "So glad..." With an unnecessarily loud sniffle, she fell over on her face, fast asleep.

North stared down at her, conflicting feelings playing in his chest. He'd traveled farther than anyone he knew, healed more cats than he could count. But in all that time... no one's ever been happy to have me around, he realized. This mismatched band of idiots, in the short time he'd been with them, had withstood the sharpest edges of his temper and given only love and acceptance in return.

Who do I think I'm fooling? Of course I know why I stayed. North ducked past Wrenfeather on his way out, brushing his tail over her shoulder as he went. Outside, Cloudfeather and Petalpaw were batting a pinecone back and forth like kits, while Pineheart kept score. Eveningstar was sitting outside the medicine cat den, watching the game.

"Hey, medicine cat," Eveningstar said, twitching her whiskers in welcome. When he'd first started, the title might have made North's fur bristle in outrage. Now, he only sighed and flicked her ear with his tail. Eveningstar only smiled. "Why don't you sit down?" she asked, tilting her head back.

North huffed and flopped down next to her, purposefully sprinkling her immaculate coat with dust. For a moment, they sat there quietly as their Clanmates squabbled over the rules. Eveningstar sighed. "Nice, isn't it?" she said quietly.

Petalpaw was now physically attempting to show her paw down Cloudfeather's throat, while Pineheart struggled to keep them apart. Behind him in the medicine cat den, Wrenfeather was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

"Yeah, it is," North said. [4028 words]

[hawkfire102]

Username: hawkfire102
Name: Birchheart
Gender: Male
Age: 37 moons
Rank: Future Deputy
Clan: SycamoreClan

Personality:

Birchheart is a very carefree cat. While he can get down to business whenever it's needed, he would rather be happy and lax about things. He likes to make things into games in order to give daily tasks a bit more life. Hunting? Challenge to get the biggest piece of fresh kill. Patrolling? Well he has to find another beautiful flower for his mate to weave into his den walls. He loves every single one of his clan mates, obviously not as much as he loves his mate, and he makes it known. He wants everyone to feel welcomed and like they are part of their ever-growing family.

History:

Birchheart used to run in a small group of cats in the twoleg place. Born and raised in this group, he always felt like an outsider. Everyone was cold and there was never any fun or laughter in the group. Everyone was focused on survival. His parents always scolded him because he wanted to turn everything into a game.

"You need to be serious about hunting. If you can't focus and catch something, you don't eat."

"Get down from the fence, we need you to actually patrol."

Birchheart was miserable. He was scolded for sunbathing, playing with trash balls, and for just not taking anything seriously. Birchheart did know the importance of all the activities that his parents lectured him on, but he did want it to be all doom and gloom all the time. He wanted to live, not just survive.

He spent moons in this way of life, dragging his paws, tail low, and ears drooped. Everything was dull and his fire was fading quickly. After what seemed like an eternity, he dreamed of a wide-open forest. One he could run to his heart's content. He was saddened at first when the dream ended. Facing a life that had no enjoyment put him back in a sullen mood.

He was sent on a patrol in a new area that his group had won in a territory battle. He trudged along behind his patrol mates until something green caught the corner of his eye. A nice open grass field. He glanced at his patrol as they got further and further away. He slunk over to it and put a paw in the grass. His eyes brightened as it had been so long since he had been on grass.

He launched himself into the field, jumping through the grass and rolling into it. He purred loudly at the feeling. He rolled back onto his stomach and looks back at the twoleg place. His heart sunk at the thought of going back to that lifestyle. He felt a wind blow against his back and he turned his head. The forest just beyond the field seemed to be calling him.

He didn't look back as he sprinted into the forest.

[dimi.]

username: kamelgirl
name: north (refused to take a clan name)
gender: tom
age: 48 moons
rank: medicine cat
clan: rimeclan

personality: while north is a remarkably skilled healer, he makes for a terrible nurse. he's rude, snappish, and has an abysmal bedside manner. his extensive travels and experience have made him arrogant; north is used to being the smartest cat in the room, and he knows it. while north does have a softer side, it's shown only to those who have managed to win his respect - which is very, very rare.

1. abrasive. somehow, meetings with north always seem to get off on the wrong foot. he's not an easy cat to like; he has a sharp tongue and has no qualms using it. north has no time for fussy or nervous patients, even when their concerns are legitimate. he's often pretty snappy towards anyone who questions his judgement... and also just snappy in general.
2. arrogant. north always gives the impression that he's got somewhere better to be. he's highly intelligent and this, combined with his practical knowledge in almost every subject, has given him an ugly superiority complex. north tends to be dismissive of other cats even when their experience in an area overshadows his own, which has gotten him into trouble before.
3. calculating. for a healer, north can be very mercenary. he rarely does anything for free, and there's always a reason for every action he takes. because he's rather duplicitous himself, he's always looking for ulterior motives in other people, and it's difficult for him to understand cats who are entirely genuine.
4. clever. north is keenly intelligent and has the hunger for knowledge to match it. as a kit, he eagerly devoured every scrap of learning he could find; though he's a bit more picky now, that much hasn't changed.
5. compassionate. under his prickly exterior, north actually does have a compassionate streak - it's just buried deep. very deep. he's never been particularly demonstrative, but his difficulty showing kindness may stem from the time he spent alone on the streets. there, any show of sympathy was seen as a weakness to be stamped out, and he's never quite gotten rid of this mentality.

history: (5+1. north viewed from the eyes of others, plus himself. this got away from me i'm so sorry ;-;)

1. For the third time that day, Rose doubled over in a coughing fit. Something deep in her lungs caught, then gave, and a wad of saliva mixed with blood hit the frosty pavement at her feet. Oh. That's not right, she realized with faint surprise.

A few pawsteps in front of her, North glanced back at the noise, then did a double-take. "Mom, you're sick!" her kit cried out, darting to her side.

"It's just a cold, sweetheart," Rose rasped. "It'll go away soon. Don't worry about me, just keep going." North gave her a dubious look, but when Rose began walking again he pressed himself close to her side and said nothing. He'd always been a sharp kit, she knew. North had always been able to see through her white lies and false promises - Daddy's coming back, just you wait and see, or just eat the mouse, I'm not hungry, or, most frequently nowadays, don't worry, I'm fine. "You've always been my clever boy," she whispered, hardly noticing as her paws stumbled over each other.

North's eyes were stretched wide with terror. "Mom - mom!" He darted beneath her chest, propping her up as her body collapsed.

Even though it was the depths of winter, she felt warm and light, like she was floating in sunlit water. North wiggled out from beneath her and, panic-stricken, tried to push her to her feet. A wave of affection for her kit flooded her; he'd always loved her so much. "My good baby," she whispered, reaching out a shaking paw to touch his face. The tips of her pads brushed his soft kitten fluff just before her paw dropped to the ground.

Dimly, Rose could hear North's frantic cries, see him calling for help, feel him shaking her frantically. Mostly, though, she couldn't sense anything; she was hanging, suspended, in a colorless void without fears or sorrows or pain. The last thing she felt was his tiny paws kneading her belly, like they'd done when he was a kit, before her eyes closed for the last time.

2. Fern sprawled out lazily, soaking up the heat from the sun-kissed pavement. Luxuriously, she stretched every leg one by one before rolling onto her back, white paws tucked close to her chest. For a single, blissful moment, nothing at all was wrong with the world.

"-coming through!" A silver-streaked blur skidded through her comfy space, sending up flurries of dust and kicking Fern in the stomach. She rolled onto her paws and sprang back in one fluid movement, arching her back in a hiss.

The kid perched comfortably on the very tip of a nearby picket fence. He looked wild, with scraggly patches of lost fur and raw, red scratches running down his side. She didn't even have to look closely to count every rib in his side. Poor kid. Fern relaxed her spine, plopping onto the ground. The startled anger faded, replaced by curiosity. "Hey, brat. You one of those strays?"

"Strays?" the kid curled his lip. "I'm a feral, housecat. I don't answer to any Twolegs."

Ugh. One of the uppity ones, then. Any sympathy she'd had vanished. "Ooh, look at me," Fern mocked him, spinning around. "I'm a wildcat, catching my own prey in the wild like a barbarian - I might die alone in a gutter in a couple years, but at least I'm not a - oof!" she broke off as the kid tackled her from behind.

They tumbled over a couple times before Fern dug in her heels and flipped herself upright. Like she'd thought, the kid was a shrimp; he was wiry, but no match for Fern, who was well-fed and actually healthy. She shrugged him off easily, then whipped around lightning-fast and pinned him to the ground. The kid writhed furiously, but there was nothing he could do. "You done picking fights you can't win, brat?" she sneered.

With an exhausted sigh, the brat went limp. Fern let him go, bracing herself in case he decided to attack again, but the kid simply pushed himself to his paws and tugged away.

He looked really tired. ... maybe I was too harsh. "Kid, don't be like that," Fern said, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. The kid flinched away from her paw, and then looked like he wished he hadn't. Pity flickered in her chest. "You got anywhere to go back to, kiddo?" she asked.

The kid looked at the ground and muttered something beneath his breath.

Fern tilted her head. "A little louder, please."

"I'm with the Rat's Nest," he growled. "There's a couple safehouses around here."

"You're in a gang?" Fern raised her eyes to the heavens. "Stars. They'll suck you dry and throw you out to rot. You know that?" The kid didn't say anything, so he probably did. "Well, I'll tell you what. You come back to my house and spend a night or two with me - don't give me that look, you won't be staying permanently - and in the morning, I'll call in a favor or two to get you out of your gang. I've got a friend who's been looking for an apprentice - you ever thought of going into healing, kid?"

Seeing the brat's eyes light up made everything - including the uninviting prospect of calling up that cranky old tom - absolutely worth it. She's always had a soft spot for angry, lost kids.

3. With a final, excruciating heave, Snap hoisted herself onto the wall. The wound in her shoulder burned painfully with the movement, and the stench of crow-fodder wafted towards her nose. Snap averted her eyes; the green rot infecting the wound was not something she wanted to see more than once.

The wall she perched on ran along the edge of an overgrown garden surrounding an old Twoleg house. The house was rundown and had been abandoned for a long time, but the walls were still sturdy enough to make it perfect for a base. Beneath a broken window, a pile of Twoleg trash had been heaped up to make a ramp for easy climbing.

This must be the right place, she decided, leaping down from the wall. Her shoulder throbbed as it absorbed the impact, but Snap ignored the pain. "Hello?" she called out. "It's Snap. Ray sent me." A moment later, she heard a scrabbling noise from inside the house. After a brief hesitation, a silver-and-white tom poked his head out.

"Well, get inside," he snapped, suspicion coating his voice. "Don't alert the whole neighborhood that you're here, idiot."

Great. Another bad-tempered healer. Snap pushed past the towering grass in the yard, wincing as sharp leaves dragged across her wound. When she emerged from the garden, the healer was waiting for her. Without a word, he sniffed her shoulder, grimaced, and began herding her over to the window with more impatience than she felt really necessary. "I can walk by myself," she growled at him.

"Could've fooled me," he scoffed, but he laid off as she painstakingly ascended the trash heap and clambered in through the window.

As soon as she was inside, the healer brushed roughly past her and began heading upstairs. "Follow me," he ordered without bothering to see if she was following. Snap curled her lip but followed in his pawsteps, watch dust swirl around them as they moved.

The process of going upstairs was difficult. She'd already exhausted herself with the surrounding wall, and the staircase with its high-set stairs was nearly impossible for her to climb by herself. The healer, as she'd expected, was less than useless with the entire endeavor. When they reached the top, he set off again for a room at the very end of a long hallway. On either side of the hall, enormous doors stood half-open, revealing the empty rooms behind them.

"Those rooms are where we keep patients who stay overnight or longer," the healer said abruptly. Snap glanced at him to see he was still facing away from her. "We don't have any right now."

We, then? "So you're not here alone?" she asked.

"It's just me and my mentor."

Snap didn't bother responding to that, but when the silence returned, it seemed less heavy. A few moments later, the tom stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall and pushed it open with his nose. The room was mostly empty aside from the rows and rows of small containers, plates, and bowls; anything and everything that could hold herbs and medicines was arranged in long, neat columns along the walls. A tall, thin tom was bent over one of these, grinding up something Snap couldn't identify.

He looked up when they entered. "Ah, North. You've returned with our visitor?" he croaked.

The young healer - North - nodded briskly. "Ray sent her," he reported.

The tom abandoned the medicines and straightened up. "Best not keep her waiting, then." He walked past the, touching North briefly on the shoulder with his tail, and was gone.

"He'll be going to bring in more herbs from the garden," North explained at Snap's questioning look. "With leaf-bare coming in soon, we need to harvest all we can before it freezes. Sit down here," he added, gesturing at an empty spot on the floor.

Snap settled down with a sigh as the strain on her shoulder eased. "I've never been to this place before," she said, watching North as he bustled around the room, collecting various herbs. "The gang usually sends me to the base near the bridge. Are there many of them?"

"You mean healing facilities?" North returned, carrying a tiny pail in his mouth. He set it down, letting water splash out of the sides, before continuing. "There's a few. We're one of the smaller ones. This is going to hurt, so hold still and don't whine." North dipped a scrap of Twoleg cloth in the water and began swiping it across her wound with his paws. Despite his prickly words, Snap was surprised by his gentleness.

"So why'd you become a healer?" she wondered out loud. The rhythmic strokes stopped for a moment, then picked up against with slightly more force than before.

"Just wanted to. No one messes with healers."

"That doesn't make sense, though," Snap protested. "You don't have the personality for it. Even if you don't want to join a gang, there's plenty of loners and rogues who don't get bothered by anyone. You're young enough that you could probably get picked up by a Twoleg, even. So why healing?"

She was answered with only silence. Snap looked up to see North laser-focused on her shoulder, as though trying to burn out the infection with his eyes. Involuntarily, she shuddered. "When I was very young," he said slowly, without turning his gaze away from the wound, "Someone I cared about died from disease. It was a relatively common disease with a simple cure. If I'd known then, I could've saved her. That's all."

Oh. Snap felt awkward. Most cats had lost someone, but one didn't ask people about it. "Sorry for asking," she mumbled, then felt obligated to add: "Thanks for telling me, though."

She could feel his eyes on her, calculating. Then - "Don't worry about it," he muttered gruffly. "Thanks for... not making a big deal."

She let him treat her in silence after that.

4. "And you're sure this rogue can cure her?" Wolf asked again.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Stop stressing so much. Cats from here to the mountains have assured me that he's competent and very good at what he does. Mio recommended him - you remember Mio?"

"Of course I remember Mio!" Wolf ground his teeth. It's not that I don't trust Mio, it's just... "She's already so close to dying, I can smell the scent of death on her," he confessed quietly. "If this rogue healer makes her worse, I don't know what I'll do." We can't lose Heather. Not so soon after-

His mate's eyes softened. "She's my daughter too, Wolf. And believe me when I say this - I trust this tom with her life. So have a little faith, alright?"

Wolf huffed and brushed his nose against her ear, which was as close to a surrender as she was going to get. I'm still going to watch that rogue like a hawk, though.

A harsh cough from the entryway of their small den broke into their conversation. "Anytime you're done..." the silver-and-white tom gestured meaningfully at the two of them. The fur on Wolf's back bristled, but he flattened it down forcibly. If this healer insisted on being an arrogant snake, that was his business. Wolf had dealt with plenty of his kind before; he would not give this cat the pleasure of seeing him angry.

"Heather's this way," he said instead, turning his back on the rogue to head down a different tunnel. "Follow."

There was a faint but audibly irritated noise behind him. Wolf resisted the urge to smile.

"It started a few days ago," Grace told the healer as they walked. "She hadn't been eating well for some time before that, but she came down with a fever and it's only grown worse since. We don't know what to do."

The healer's voice sounded bored. "Sounds like a few different things. What about delirium? Has she been vomiting?"

"She's been delirious," Wolf growled, making both of them jump. "Though she hasn't vomited. Right here," he added, turning the corner into the burrow they'd hollowed out for Heather. The she-cat - still with kitten fluff around the ears - was curled tightly in her nest of moss and down feathers. She was shivering, though clearly wracked by fever. The rasping of her breathing was the only sound in the chamber as the three cats watched her silently.

Then the rogue sighed and, with two quick strides, had pushed past Wolf to his daughter's side. "Looks like yellowcough, though I'd have to check her throat to be sure... yep. That's yellowcough," he determined, grimacing at her throat. "Don't suppose you have any lungwort around here?"

Grace and Wolf glanced at each other. That diagnosis was weirdly fast, Wolf thought. But - Trust me, Grace's eyes pleaded. Wolf turned back to the rogue with a sigh. "What does it look like?"

The healer rolled his eyes, as though he hadn't expected any better from them but was still disappointed. "Dark green leaves with gray speckles. I need the leaves."

"I think I know where a plant like that is," Grace volunteered. "I'll go grab some. Don't kill each other, now," she added, brushing her tail over Wolf's muzzle as she left.

"You two are disgusting," the healer observed as soon as Grace was out of range. The dreamy smile slid right off Wolf's face.

"You're remarkably obnoxious for a healer," Wolf shot back. "Why'd you bother becoming one in the first place?"

The healer wrinkled his nose. "Why do people always ask me that?"

"Because you're a jerk."

"That was a rhetorical question," the rogue emphasized. "It's like I'm here out of the goodness of my heart, or something. I'm in it for the bonuses. No one messes with me, I get to stay places for free, and people have do whatever I tell them to... no matter how obnoxious I am in the meantime." He flashed Wolf a smile that he was fairly certain was perfectly calculated to irritate him. Well, it's working.

"M-Mica?"

Argument forgotten, Wolf whipped around to see Heather struggling to open her eyes. "Mica? Where are you?" she croaked again.

Wolf was at his daughter's side in a heartbeat. Wrapping his tail around her protectively, he whispered, "Lie still, dearest. Mica's out hunting, remember? She'll be back soon." With one more feverish mutter, Heather fell still. Wolf gently lapped the top of her head, then tensed. Feeling a growl rumbling in his chest, he swung his head up to find the healer's eyes burning directly into his own.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Then: "Mica's not really hunting, is she?" the healer asked. His voice was softer than before, Wolf noted.

He narrowed his eyes. "No," Wolf said quietly. "She died two moons ago. Heather was with her at the time."

The healer looked away first. Absently, his gaze roved over Heather's limp body like he was seeing someone else, long since dead.

Wolf bristled. I need you here, rogue! "Listen to me, healer," he growled. "You must save Heather. I cannot lose another daughter."

At first, the healer didn't seem to hear him. Then, finally, his amber gaze refocused, meeting Wolf's own. "Stop fretting so much," he murmured. Though the words were harsh, his tone was something nearly gentle. "I'm the best healer around. She's in good paws."

Is that a promise? Wolf's tail curled tighter around his daughter.

Then there was a scrabbling of paws at the door and Grace burst in. "I have the lungwort," his mate panted, spitting out the precious leaves. "Can you save her?"

The healer raised his head confidently, a smirk spreading across his face. "Of course I will."

5. Petalpaw whimpered.

North bared his teeth in frustration. "Honestly, get a grip! It's one measly thorn!"

The apprentice sniffled loudly. "But it's a huge thorn!"

"It's about half the size of your claw."

"It's huge!"

Pineheart ducked his head to hide a smile. Though North had always had an iron grip on his temper, he was still no match for Petalpaw.

"Hello, Pineheart. How's our rogue medicine cat doing?"

Pineheart looked up to see Eveningstar settle herself next to him, tail wrapped primly around her paws. "He's patched up Wrenfeather for the moment," he reported. "Petalpaw came in with a thorn in her paw, so he's seeing to that right now." They both fell silent to listen to Petalpaw's complaints as North attempted to grip the thorn. It wasn't going well.

"This is your friend?" Eveningstar asked after a beat.

"I don't know that North has any friends, honestly," Pineheart muttered, then said more loudly: "I met him last leaf-bare and, trust me, he's one of the finest healers you'll ever meet."

In the background, Petalpaw squeaked in dismay. "Shut up and let me work, brat," North snarled. Eveningstar shot Pineheart a skeptical look.

Pineheart nibbled his lip. "Petalpaw is... a unique case."

"Hmm. Sure."

The conversation lapsed into silence. Deputy and leader sat quietly together, watching the healer attempt to wrestle Petalpaw's foot into position amid much squirming and frustrated shouting.

"You know," Eveningstar said suddenly, just as Petalpaw squealed shrilly enough to blow out Pineheart's eardrums, "I'm tired of being the medicine cat. We should make this guy be the medicine cat instead."

... what? Slowly, Pineheart turned his head to stare incredulously at Eveningstar. I respect you as a leader, I really do, but... "That's nuts," he said bluntly. "He'll never go for it, he's a rogue. They value their independence. What could we possibly offer him that he doesn't have already?"

Eveningstar turned a considering eye on North. "Protection. Companionship. A stable home. Even the most solitary cats normally have a territory; as a general rule, we stick to routine and known territory over uncertainties."

"Other cats, maybe. This one's a piece of work."

His leader shrugged. "If he doesn't accept, we can always kidnap him."

Pineheart squinted at her, genuinely unsure if she was joking or not.

"Or break his legs. Without his legs he can't leave, there's nowhere else to go for miles around."

Oh stars, I don't think she's joking. "Eveningstar," Pineheart breathed, scandalized. "You can't just kidnap people. Or break their legs," he added as she opened her mouth to retort.

Eveningstar closed her mouth. Behind them, Petalpaw let out an almighty screech as North finally managed to hook his teeth around the thorn in her paw. With an enormous effort, he ripped it out, sprinkling blood droplets into the air. The thorn, somehow, had been embedded upside-down so that the thick, blunt part had been embedded in her paw. "You see," Petalpaw shrieked. "It's huge!"

North spat the thorn out and flung up his paws in disgust. "How'd you even do that - never in my life have I ever seen anyone get the thorn in backwards -"

Petalpaw wasn't listening. "I told you it was huge!"

Next to Pineheart, Eveningstar stood up in one fluid movement. "I'd better go rescue our medicine cat," she whispered to him, ignoring Pineheart's skeptical look. "North!" she called out. "Having fun?"

North snorted, not looking up from Petalpaw's foot. "Eveningstar, I have never been more glad in my life that I never stick around. If I had to treat this kid every day, I'd lose my mind." Pineheart winced. Eveningstar seemed undeterred.

"Funny you should mention that. North, how would you like to become Rimeclan's medicine cat?"

The rogue actually dropped Petalpaw's foot, ignoring her squeak, and squinted at Eveningstar as though she'd gone insane. "Medicine cat - you mean healer? Are you nuts?" He lifted his head defiantly, glaring directly into her eyes. "I literally just said no. I'd never stick around this place in a million years, and that's final."

+ 1. "- and I swear to your precious Starclan above, if I catch you jumping into the river in the middle of leaf-bare again, I'll kill you myself. Is that clear?"

"Yes, North," Wrenfeather muttered dully, punctuated with a monstrous sneeze.

"Honestly, the lot of you are worse than kits," North snarled, throwing a limp pile of tansy on the ground in front of her. "Eat that. And please, for my sake if not your own, stop doing idiotic things for kicks."

"Yes, North." Obediently, she leaned over to lap up the tansy. North, still seething with fury, went back to the herb stores for lack of anything better to do and started slamming random ingredients around.

I still cannot believe I actually stayed. Something must be wrong with me. North shoved the juniper berries aside with perhaps more force than they really deserved. Really, what's keeping me from just leaving these morons behind?

"Nor'?"

"Hmm?" North didn't bother turning around. "What is it."

"Th'nks f'r... f'r ev'rythin''," Wrenfeather slurred out. Likely the poppy seeds he'd slipped in were finally starting to kick in. North sniffed borage, which seemed a bit stale. "'m so glad y'came."

Wait. "What?" North spun to look at her. The she-cat was sprawled in her nest, blinking sleepily up at him.

"Th' bes' med'cine cat ev'r," she said, an enormous smile spreading across her face. "So glad..." With an unnecessarily loud sniffle, she fell over on her face, fast asleep.

North stared down at her, conflicting feelings playing in his chest. He'd traveled farther than anyone he knew, healed more cats than he could count. But in all that time... no one's ever been happy to have me around, he realized. This mismatched band of idiots, in the short time he'd been with them, had withstood the sharpest edges of his temper and given only love and acceptance in return.

Who do I think I'm fooling? Of course I know why I stayed. North ducked past Wrenfeather on his way out, brushing his tail over her shoulder as he went. Outside, Cloudfeather and Petalpaw were batting a pinecone back and forth like kits, while Pineheart kept score. Eveningstar was sitting outside the medicine cat den, watching the game.

"Hey, medicine cat," Eveningstar said, twitching her whiskers in welcome. When he'd first started, the title might have made North's fur bristle in outrage. Now, he only sighed and flicked her ear with his tail. Eveningstar only smiled. "Why don't you sit down?" she asked, tilting her head back.

North huffed and flopped down next to her, purposefully sprinkling her immaculate coat with dust. For a moment, they sat there quietly as their Clanmates squabbled over the rules. Eveningstar sighed. "Nice, isn't it?" she said quietly.

Petalpaw was now physically attempting to show her paw down Cloudfeather's throat, while Pineheart struggled to keep them apart. Behind him in the medicine cat den, Wrenfeather was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

"Yeah, it is," North said. [4028 words]

Congrats! Sorry for posting the results to this competition in particular hella late; phone has been funky and I had this competition judged a lil ago.

Hm to Kazin!

[kamelgirl]

aah there were so many good forms, i wasn't sure i'd win - thank you so much!!

[Kazin]

Thank you for the hm! And congrats kamelgirl :)