{ blood doesn't mean family } • DNP

[Micki.]

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Littleleap is a painfully shy cat who prefers to stay in the background of clan life,
rather than be at the forefront, and trust doesn't come naturally to her. As such,
she doesn't make friends easily, and finding those that she can fit in with and be
herself around. It's hard for her to feel at ease and feel at home, especially when
she is around other cats. So, for her, family is whoever she feels free to be herself
around, without fear of judgement, and whoever makes her feel at peace and at
home, regardless of her surroundings.
username: Micki.

cat name: Littleleap
age: 24 moons
gender: she-cat

clan: Bearclan
rank: warrior

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[Micki.]

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A yowl broke the silence of the camp.

Cats shuffled around the camp as though they didn't hear anything. It had become commonplace over the last few days to hear the yowling of some poor unfortunate kit nearby. No one dared talk of it, though; it was strictly forbidden to even consider helping an outsider - kit or not. So, it was easier for the Bearclan cats to pretend that they heard nothing, rather than face the truth of their actions: there was a kit somewhere in the woods, desperately trying to call for help, and they were willfully ignoring this kit and sentencing it to death, simply for being an outsider.

Another yowl. And another. And another.

Whiterush huffed, eyes fixed on the woods that held the poor little kit somewhere nearby. He couldn't stand it any longer - the code be damned - and he marched straight to Tigerstar's den, a newly apprenticed Mousepaw, a small lilac she-cat, in tow. "I'm going to get them," the resolution in the light tom's voice didn't quake, and the statement sounded more like a demand. And, in a way, it was - a demand to know why he should stand by and listen to a small kit starve to death, a demand to know why something had not already been done, a demand to know how the code could allow this, a demand for decency.

Tigerstar narrowed his eyes at the other tom's words and spoke slowly, voice low and dripping with venom, "No. I've already allowed you to break the code. No more, Whiterush. I've let you bring that kittypet into the clan, allowed you to train her as an apprentice. No more. I will run you from this clan before a fish can splash if you cannot control yourself." He gestured towards Mousepaw, a former kittypet the age of a young warrior, as though he was trying to say, "look at her, she's not even a warrior - this is what happens when you take in outsiders," but it only made the other tom more determined.

"I'm bringing them back to camp," Whiterush replied, another half-statement, half-demand, "Because I won't stand by and listen to that any longer. It's been days, Tigerstar. Do you have a heart beneath your fur, or a cold stone instead?" Tigerstar narrowed his eyes further, glaring ferociously at the larger tom before changing the focus of his glare to the small Mousepaw. The leader and the deputy had rarely been at odds until a few moons ago, when Whiterush had decided, for the first time in his life, to go against Bearclan's code, to save a lost kittypet named Mouse. They had been locked in a constant struggle ever since, and Tigerstar was growing resentful of the kittypet for turning his friend into something unfamiliar.

"I'm bringing them back to camp," the large tom repeated, determined gaze fixed on Tigerstar. He turned, without waiting on his leader's response, and left. Mousepaw hurried after him, still too afraid of Tigerstar to speak to him, much less be left alone with him. The small she-cat hesitated when Whiterush crossed the edge of the camp, staring down at her feet and pawing the ground for a few seconds. The deputy took notice of her hesitation, but didn't stop and, instead, simply called over his shoulder, "Well? Coming or not?"

Mousepaw hurried after him, too anxious to be alone in her new clan. When she caught up to him, she managed a breathless question, "Where are we going?" Whiterush didn't answer - he didn't answer half of the things she asked, truth be told - and continued on, quickly, in silence. His large stature meant large steps, which meant the small she-cat was practically running just to keep up.

A yowl.

The light-colored tom's ears perked up, listening intently. His face reminded Mousepaw of something that her housefolk had owned - a statue - with his stern, unwavering determination. It was almost as if he had been set in stone himself, standing there without so much as a twitch of the tail. A few raindrops started coming down from the sky, but even the rain couldn't make him stir. His pelt was starting to get soaked, and still, he waited, more motionless than any cat Mousepaw had ever seen.

Another yowl.

He narrowed his eyes for a split second, before mumbling something inaudible and rushing away in the direction of the yowl. Mousepaw stood, grumbling about wet fur, and too concerned with the rain to even realize he had left. A third yowl brought her back to reality, however, and she was soon hurrying towards the sound. When she finally found Whiterush, he was standing at the
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edge of the river, looking over a kit. The lilac she-cat approached cautiously, not completely sure what was going on, and soon saw the poor kit's trouble: a small branch, too heavy for the kit to lift, had fallen, and one end of it had somehow gotten lodged between two rocks, while the other end had fallen over the kit. And, to further complicate the situation, the rain was starting to make the river rise.

"Help!" the little molly cried, weakly, as she stared up at the other two cats, "Please, help." Whiterush nudged her gently, which had an almost instant calming effect on the kit. "I promise, we'll help. Just give us a moment, little one," the tom reassured, his soft voice further comforting the molly. He circled around the kit a few times, trying to decide which path of action would be best, while Mousepaw sat with the young molly. The large tom mumbled something under his breath a few times before finally making a decision. "Mouse," he led her out of the kit's ear-shot before continuing, "I don't think the branch will come free from those rocks, not with just the two of us. We'll have to try lifting up the other end enough for her to get free of it."

Mousepaw looked a bit unsure, but didn't voice any of her hesitations. After all, it could very well be the kit's only chance. The two cats walked back to the molly, and Whiterush gave her another gentle nudge. His voice was calm when he spoke to her, despite the anxious feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, "We're going to try to lift the branch, and you've got to slide out from under it when we do. Do you think that you can do that, little one?"

The kit nodded silently in response.

Whiterush struggled to get under the branch - he was nearly too large to do so, and he was left crouching so close to the ground it looked as though he were laying. He did manage it, however, and soon Mousepaw was positioning herself under the branch as well. "On my count," he demanded, voice low. "One... two..... three," he stood up straight as he finished speaking, his voice straining under the weight resting on his back. The little molly squeaked as the branch lifted away from her and crawled from under it, finally free. Mousepaw gracefully slid from under the branch herself and the large tom, meanwhile, practically stumbled getting out from underneath it.

"What's your name, little one?" the words sounded a bit breathless from the effort of the rescue, yet Whiterush's voice was as gentle as ever. The kit, however, was unsure of what to do in the situation. She had been saved, but what now? She had always been told by her mother that the Bearclan cats were unwelcoming and fearsome, so what was she to do now that she had been rescued by two Bearclan cats? Whiterush smiled warmly, as though he could sense her uneasiness, and spoke in an equally warm tone, "Don't worry, we're not going to harm you, little one. I'm only asking your name."

"Well don't," the molly countered, harsher than the other two cats could have expected.

"Don't what?" Mousepaw asked, head tilted, slightly, in a curious fashion.

"Don't ask my name," the kit spat back, narrowing her eyes at the other two cats. It seemed as though the good grace afforded them by the rescue had already been used up, and the young molly was no longer grateful. She seemed angry and defensive, much to their surprise. Mousepaw squinted in confusion, "Well what about your family? Where can we find them?"

"I don't have any family," the little molly hissed, eyes still narrowed.

"You have to have some fam-" the lilac she-cat began, but was cut off by a flick of Whiterush's tail.

He sat, smiling down at the young molly knowingly, "I see, little one. Follow me." The tom turned and started walking away, in the direction of the camp, without another word, leaving both Mousepaw and the kit to stare after him in confusion. Mousepaw nudged the molly forward, which garnered a hiss in response, and patiently waited on the young kit to go after Whiterush. She followed the little molly closely as they made their way back to camp.

Whiterush ushered the kit into the camp with a comforting smile. It wasn't long until the other clan members had started to gather around the three of them, whispering amongst themselves. Who was this kit? Where did they come from? Had Whiterush really defied the clan's code again? Was it defying the code if the deputy was the one doing it? Could deputies even do that? Why had he done it? Was it the grief of losing his mate?

The cats parted as Tigerstar made his way through them, marching towards his deputy with a stern look. He stood in front of the three cats, a low growl in his throat, and looked them over. All three were soaked, wetter than fish, even, and the little molly hid behind Whiterush, shivering. Tigerstar was not prone to outbursts of compassion, nor did he approve of even the slightest deviation from the warrior code, but something about the shivering kit calmed his fiery disposition. Maybe it was the fact that he was a new father himself, giving him more reason to care for the kit than he would otherwise have. Or maybe, just maybe, he could see that the kit was in desperate need of a family.

"This is the last time, Whiterush. No more. No more lost kittypets," the tom shot a disdainful look at Mousepaw before continuing, "No more lost kits. This is the last time you break the code or, so help me Starclan, I will run you from our lands." His eyes were narrowed and his words were harsh, yet the other tom smiled anyways. Here, in front of the entire clan, Tigerstar had made the decision to allow the kit into Bearclan. It may have been in the form of a threat against further rule-breaking, but it was good enough for Whiterush, and it was enough to keep the rest of the clan from treating her too poorly.

The leader let out a low grumble at the larger tom's broad smile before deciding to ignore it, "What is your name, kit?"

"Littlekit," Whiterush answered, quickly, before the little molly could hiss at Tigerstar. The other tom simply nodded, as though making a mental note of his new clan member, and walked away.

The light-colored tom looked down at the molly and repeated, more to himself than anyone else, "Her name is Littlekit."

[Micki.]

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"For the last time, Littlepaw," Whiterush let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, frowning slightly, "You have to actually listen to your mentor. That includes hunting, and fighting, and climbing, and swimming." The large tom let out another sigh, heart hurting as he looked down at the young molly, practically cowering.

Whiterush sighed, yet again, and nudged the little apprentice comfortingly, "I'm not angry, little one. I just don't understand, and I don't like not understanding." He watched her big eyes start to return to normal as the fear subsided. It had been only a matter of days since she'd joined the clan, and she was still quite petrified by everything and everyone. The large tom had expected her to start warming up to her new life by now, as Mousepaw had quickly adapted and learned to thrive within the clan in a few days. He was starting to realize, however, that Littlepaw was a much different cat than Mousepaw.

"Well? Why won't you cooperate with Shrewtail?"

The little apprentice looked down at the ground, doing everything possible to avoid the tom's eyes, "I... I just don't want to be noticed..." She shuffled around a bit, and her tail flicked back and forth nervously. It felt silly to admit such a thing, even as she had spoken the words, and it felt even more silly since all that the other apprentices could talk about was being the greatest warrior - or hunter, or healer - that the clan had ever seen. Was there something wrong with her for not wanting that? She wanted to provide for her clan and protect them, of course, but she just wanted to stay in the background. In fact, Littlepaw could think of nothing worse than being put in the spotlight, especially for just doing her duties.

The light-colored tom nodded and sat down next to the young molly. "If that's so, wouldn't the others notice you less if you did what you were told, when you were told?" Whiterush questioned, giving her another gentle nudge. "I can assure you, there is nothing strange about wanting to blend in, and I can assure you that you will have better luck doing so if you do as Shrewtail tells you."

Littlepaw scoffed lightly, "What do you know about it, anyways? You're deputy. That's, like, the opposite of blending in, isn't it?" Whiterush smiled at her words and gave a light, playful tap on her nose.

The molly smiled back.

Over the next several moons, the young Littlepaw took Whiterush's advice to heart. She began doing everything that her mentor, Shrewtail, asked of her, and doing it well. Not well enough to garner jealousy from other apprentices or attention from the warriors, but well. She could have done much better, Whiterush noted silently as he watched his dear Littlepaw practice fighting with the other apprentices. 'She could do so, so much more, if only she weren't so terrified of others' attention,' he thought, still watching her.

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Newly named Littleleap bounced about around Whiterush, beaming with delight and, for once, not afraid to be noticed. The large tom chuckled, so full of pride he felt as though he would burst at any moment, "Well, Littleleap, I believe it's about time you went on your first independent patrol." The young she-cat gasped in pure joy and nudged him affectionately, "Do you mean it? Do you really, really mean it? Wait... am I too young for that? I'm only 15 moons, isn't that a bit young?"

Whiterush laughed again, a deep laugh that seemed to resound throughout the camp. "Little one, I assure you it's long past time for this. Most warriors do it within the moon they are named, but since you've become a warrior a little later than usual, I'd say it's appropriate to do so within days of your naming," he paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, before adding, "Besides, when have you cared much for the rules? Is this the warrior Littleleap talking, instead of the regular, little one I know?"

The she-cat batted at him and rolled her eyes, feigning offense.

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Her first patrol alone did not go as planned, however.

During the patrol, she found various signs that a cat was, or had been, on Bearclan territory. An unfamiliar scent here, a makeshift den there. It wasn't until midway through that Littleleap started to get a strange feeling. There was something strange going on, but she couldn't quite place it. The scent was vaguely familiar, in an eerie way, and she had the peculiar feeling that someone was following her.

Rustle, rustle. SNAP.

Litteleap whipped around at the sound of a snapping twig, and saw a she-cat coming towards her. The other cat was so familiar, but why? Could she possibly know this other cat? Was she from Littleleap's first clan?

A smile spread across her face as she spoke, "Hello, Spottedkit." Littleleap hadn't been called that in a very long time, and it felt unreal to hear that name again. That name that her mother had given her. Her mother, who had left her for dead at only 8 moons old. Her uncaring, selfish mother.

Littleleap's nose rinkled in disgust, "Don't call me that. It's not my name, and it hasn't been in a long time. Now leave this place."

The older she-cat's voice rang out, sweet as honey, "But, my sweet molly, I've come to take you home. It's time that you rejoin our clan, our family. It's time-"

Littleleap interrupted, "No." It was only a single word, but it was spoken with such harshness that it could take the breath form another cat's chest. Littleleap would not be going anywhere, certainly not with this she-cat.

"I'm your mother, Spottedkit," the darker she-cat argued.

A low rumble started in the younger she-cat's throat, "It's Littleleap. And you're not my mother. You're not my family at all. Family protects you, until their dying breath. Family doesn't leave like you left me." Her tail flicked wildly and her eyes flashed dangerously, like warnings that could be seen from the mountain tops.

"But I gave you life! Does blood mean nothing to you?"

"No," Littleleap spat, "Because blood doesn't mean family."

[Micki.]

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Whiterush is, and has always been, the strongest influence in Littleleap's life.

He is, without a doubt, her savior and her protector. There is absolutely nothing that he wouldn't do for her, and the feeling is mutual. Littleleap considers Whiterush to be her father, just as he considers her to be his own kit. He is the first cat that Littleleap wants to share her news with, especially if it is exciting or happy news.

Even though Littleleap still prefers to go unnoticed and stay in the background of the clan, quietly helping while not standing out, when she's around Whiterush she could talk for days. She truly shines and lets herself be, well, herself whenever she is with the tom, and she would even say that he helps her be the best version of herself. She's particularly witty whenever she's with him, and the two often trade well-meaning insults and jabs at each other.

Whiterush can occasionally be hit with bouts of sadness, usually having something to do with his mate's passing, and she tends to stick very closely to him during these times. Most don't notice the difference, however, because they are incredibly close and practically inseparable. Some cats may think it strange that the two care so much for each other, but to them it feels natural.

As deputy and council member of Bearclan, Whiterush usually knows everything that is going on. Because change and not knowing what's happening around her makes Littleleap nervous and fearful - and because Whiterush is too soft to deny his beloved Littleleap anything - he often ends up telling her details that should be privy only to the council members. It puts her at ease, though, so he happily volunteers the information. Littleleap realizes that he is potentially endangering his standing with the council to comfort her, so the gossip goes no further.

Littleleap believes Whiterush is her strength, helping her through the toughest of times, and the source of her determination.

[Micki.]

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( littleleap, then littlepaw, and tearoot's first meeting )

Tearoot joined the clan, another kittypet taken in by Whiterush, a few moons after Littleleap was taken in. She was quickly made into a secondary medicine cat for the clan, due to her very strong connection to Starclan and ancestors. As medicine cat, she worked closely with Whiterush and the two became good friends, and where Whiterush goes, Littleleap, then Littlepaw, is sure to follow. The very first time that the two met, Whiterush was needed for a council meeting and didn't want to leave Littlepaw alone. Littlepaw was incredibly unsure and uncomfortable, but Tearoot's sweet and comforting nature won her over by the end of the day.

Ever since then, Littleleap has returned to Tearoot when she feels like she's lost. Because Littleleap likes to be in the background and isn't particularly comfortable being herself or drawing any attention, she can often feel like she's losing herself or losing her sense of worth. Tearoot never fails to help Littleleap find herself again and remind her of all of her worth and strengths. Tearoot, who feels very much like Littleleap's mother, is often worrying and fretting over Littleleap. Littleleap, who also considers the older she-cat to be her mother, usually lets Tearoot fuss over her, at least a bit.

Littleleap believes that Tearoot is her center, keeping her grounded and sane, and the source of her compassion.




* Tearoot is currently just a concept and hasn't actually been made into a rise clan member yet.

[Micki.]

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Mousestar has been in Littleleap's life since the day that she and Whiterush brought the young molly into the clan. Littleleap has her to thank for her suffix - she was the first cat that Mouse gave a warrior name to. Mousestar gave her the suffix "leap" in honor of her speed and quick wit, but, more importantly, in hopes that the name would inspire the younger she-cat to, one day, take a "leap of faith" - a twoleg phrase Mouse picked up from her housefolk - and learn to trust people more easily.

And, ever since, she has been there, faithfully looking out for Littleleap. The two have a very deep bond and consider each other sisters. Like sisters, the two can often be found squabbling, even now that Mouse is the leader of Bearclan. But, like sisters, the two can never stay angry with each other for very long. One moment, they'll be arguing about something silly - who's better at catching prey, which flower smells the best - and the next, the two will be gossiping and laughing.

As with most siblings, it's usually the younger one, in this case Littleleap, annoying the older one. Littleleap gets endless amusement from annoying Mousestar, truth be told, and can often be found flicking her in the face with her tail.

Mousestar does have to stay impartial when it comes to Littleleap's tendency to do a bit of rule-breaking, though, because she is the leader and believes that it's her duty as leader to be just. This can get on the younger she-cat's nervous and cause squabbles between them, but she does understand why Mouse does it.

Littleleap believes Mousestar is her moral compass, keeping her on the right path, and the source of her honesty.