Cat Name: ghoststep
Gender: male
Rank: medicine cat assistant
Age: thirty moons
Clan: fickleclan
ghoststep's goal in life is a lengthy one; a complex string that he continues unravelling, never discarding the threads that have been tied as nothing is worth the waste. ties are all we are born into this life with, ghoststep often tells himself. born a blank slate, yet with that written potential deep within an individual. life is hard, strenuous and unforgiving. a look to the ancestors is but a hurdle to scale, even still a mountain to some. nonetheless, that never stopped this tom even in his younger years. the path connected to starclan was nothing of a climb to him, but a simple, calculated step.
with niave eyes full of youth and innocence, ghostkit looked up at the adoring figure above him, always looming. his mother was always close by, always watching and caring for him and his siblings. she always offered them kind smiles - and of course they accepted them, even responding with mews and small smiles of their own. ghostkit had always been.. stranger in his analysis of other cats, even from such a tender age.
he saw shadows that weren't there. many times, he had asked, "momma? what's that cat doing over there?" to no definite answer,
only a nudge closer to the warmth of the den. don't fill your head with such fantasies, they'd say, laughing at his confused demeanor. there is nothing there. go back to sleep.
the strange cats never left his sights, or his thoughts.
eventually, he had learned to keep quiet about it.
the other kits teased him.
they taunted him with sneery words; mocking him.
the only solace he'd find, was in fact when speaking to the starry strangers...
the clouded figures would teach him about the growing clan before him: secrets that not even the elders have spoken of. when no one was there to comfort him, they would. it was strange, with no explanation. ghoststep neverminded. every night he would stalk out into the forest, eager to meet them again, and again. he understood that no one else could see them and how that would concern the clan if he ever shared such word of the strangers, yet he still felt the urge to find out more. the star-pelted cats would never answer 'who are you?'. instead they smiled, fading away into the night once more.
he only wished he was more ready when the answer came to him.
after nights of silence and no visitors, he grew concerned. foolish to say, he missed them. it was then, that ghoststep decided to speak up.
he had told fawnheart his woes - a trusted clanmate to many, but to ghost, his old playmate, as well. they had always been close at a young age, being only a moon apart and so similar in personality. they clicked immediately - the two outcasts that were primarily focused on devoting themselves for the good of the clan.
however, the conversation did not go as smoothly as he'd hoped.
fawnheart's face dropped, eyes wide.
ghoststep was ushered into the leader's den; voices hushed and whispered.
prophecy, stars, a sign....
he couldn't keep track of it all. what was so special about his friends?
they were cats too, weren't they?
that was when yarrowstar and fawnheart came to the conclusion, seeing the distressed features upon the cream tom's face. he would work alongside fawnheart as a medicine cat. he had trained to be a warrior all his life - hadn't he just achieved his title?
did this mean he wasn't good enough? was he being kicked out? how on earth was he to be a medicine cat?
it then clicked.
yarrowstar sat him down, speaking to him slowly with a voice only filled with kindness and... pride?
they indeed were cats he was speaking to, she explained, though not living.
but how?
ghoststep had managed to directly contact his ancestors even as a kit - a feat fickleclan had not even fathomed before, nevermind recognise.
his friends were dead, the whole time. did that make them still his friends? a voice within him pondered.
he had a deep connection to starclan, fawnheart explained. the first ever of such a role.
it was decided that he would use this gift within the medicine cat role, mainly to assist in the spiritual side of the clan as well as healing. of course, healing was never his strong point - not that fawnheart minded. it was a shared role that they had both grown into, shoulder to shoulder.
once the clan were told, he was no longer teased. no longer an outcast. he was a prophet.
he delivered vague messages from ancient to mortal, even sharing tongues with starclan cats on rare occasion.
that was when ghoststep decided what life he would live; what goal he would follow.
i will speak for starclan, when they cannot.
i will not fail them, for this is my gift, my blessing.
i will not let it be destroyed and my clan shall thrive.
never, shall i turn away for one in need.
i will serve as a messenger of my ancestors' words, until i join them among the stars that shield us.
[855/1000]
psst... if you look closesly and/or drag the picture... you might just see some of his ghostly friends....
with niave eyes full of youth and innocence, ghostkit looked up at the adoring figure above him, always looming. his mother was always close by, always watching and caring for him and his siblings. she always offered them kind smiles - and of course they accepted them, even responding with mews and small smiles of their own. ghostkit had always been.. stranger in his analysis of other cats, even from such a tender age.
he saw shadows that weren't there. many times, he had asked, "momma? what's that cat doing over there?" to no definite answer,
only a nudge closer to the warmth of the den. don't fill your head with such fantasies, they'd say, laughing at his confused demeanor. there is nothing there. go back to sleep.
the strange cats never left his sights, or his thoughts.
eventually, he had learned to keep quiet about it.
the other kits teased him.
they taunted him with sneery words; mocking him.
the only solace he'd find, was in fact when speaking to the starry strangers...
the clouded figures would teach him about the growing clan before him: secrets that not even the elders have spoken of. when no one was there to comfort him, they would. it was strange, with no explanation. ghoststep neverminded. every night he would stalk out into the forest, eager to meet them again, and again. he understood that no one else could see them and how that would concern the clan if he ever shared such word of the strangers, yet he still felt the urge to find out more. the star-pelted cats would never answer 'who are you?'. instead they smiled, fading away into the night once more.
he only wished he was more ready when the answer came to him.
after nights of silence and no visitors, he grew concerned. foolish to say, he missed them. it was then, that ghoststep decided to speak up.
he had told fawnheart his woes - a trusted clanmate to many, but to ghost, his old playmate, as well. they had always been close at a young age, being only a moon apart and so similar in personality. they clicked immediately - the two outcasts that were primarily focused on devoting themselves for the good of the clan.
however, the conversation did not go as smoothly as he'd hoped.
fawnheart's face dropped, eyes wide.
ghoststep was ushered into the leader's den; voices hushed and whispered.
prophecy, stars, a sign....
he couldn't keep track of it all. what was so special about his friends?
they were cats too, weren't they?
that was when yarrowstar and fawnheart came to the conclusion, seeing the distressed features upon the cream tom's face. he would work alongside fawnheart as a medicine cat. he had trained to be a warrior all his life - hadn't he just achieved his title?
did this mean he wasn't good enough? was he being kicked out? how on earth was he to be a medicine cat?
it then clicked.
yarrowstar sat him down, speaking to him slowly with a voice only filled with kindness and... pride?
they indeed were cats he was speaking to, she explained, though not living.
but how?
ghoststep had managed to directly contact his ancestors even as a kit - a feat fickleclan had not even fathomed before, nevermind recognise.
his friends were dead, the whole time. did that make them still his friends? a voice within him pondered.
he had a deep connection to starclan, fawnheart explained. the first ever of such a role.
it was decided that he would use this gift within the medicine cat role, mainly to assist in the spiritual side of the clan as well as healing. of course, healing was never his strong point - not that fawnheart minded. it was a shared role that they had both grown into, shoulder to shoulder.
once the clan were told, he was no longer teased. no longer an outcast. he was a prophet.
he delivered vague messages from ancient to mortal, even sharing tongues with starclan cats on rare occasion.
that was when ghoststep decided what life he would live; what goal he would follow.
i will speak for starclan, when they cannot.
i will not fail them, for this is my gift, my blessing.
i will not let it be destroyed and my clan shall thrive.
never, shall i turn away for one in need.
i will serve as a messenger of my ancestors' words, until i join them among the stars that shield us.
[855/1000]
psst... if you look closesly and/or drag the picture... you might just see some of his ghostly friends....
