[ꪶ ιzαя∂ѕρσтѕ.]

backing out. lost interest in this boy! good luck everybody!

[Zephara]

Mark~ what a handsome boy :0

[**Snowwhisper**]

Username;;**Snowwhisper**
Cat Name;; Ivypaw (Ivystorm)
Gender;; Female
Age;; 23 Moons
Clan;; Frostclan
Rank;; Apprentice

Prompt;;

It happened faster than she realized. Faster than any of them realized. One moment, they were playing a game and the next she was falling and then the next, pain and then nothing. At the time she thought that breaking her hind-leg was the worst thing that could happen, not only did it cause excruciating pain for moons, it also caused her apprentice training to be put on pause. While she laid in a makeshift nest in the medicine cat's den, she watched as her friends grew up without her. Moved on with their lives while hers was at a standstill.

"Come on Ivy, You're going to get better before you know it and then you'll be running laps around us." Sorrelpaw encouraged as she dropped off two mice for her. She gave one last sympathetic look at Ivypaw before leaving. 'Like you're not receiving you warrior name tonight.' Ivypaw thought bitterly. Turning her nose up at the offered meal, she wasn't hungry anyway. And as the sky darkened and Emberstar's yowl rang out for a clan meeting, she tried to ignore the burning in her chest and the tears gathering in her eyes and tried to sleep.

It was well after dark when Hawkfang came back into the den, commenting lightly, "You weren't at the ceremony, I thought you would have liked to see your friends honored for their hard work." He paused to look at her, " I hope you weren't sleeping again. I thought Emberstar's yowl could wake the dead if she wanted to." Ivypaw didn't comment, she didn't need to, and Hawkfang said no more.

As the moons passed, her leg healed and the pain lessened with each day but the cracks in her heart only worsened and her thoughts turned dark as well. While her friends tried their best to spend time with her, there wasn't much time with their new duties, and Ivypaw only sank deeper in her thoughts and the feeling of uselessness. Even as Hawkfang declared her able to train again, albeit gently, she still had a limp and it did nothing to ease the uselessness she felt. Now that she's back to training, Ivypaw hopes that her thoughts settle, especially since now a hope is starting to bloom again that she'll be able to join her friends as a fully accepted warrior.

[Ladyskittels]

Username;; Ladyskittels
Cat Name;; Duskcloud
Gender;; tom
Age;; 22 moons
Clan;; Glacial Blizzard Clan
Rank;; warrior

Prompt;; [500 / 500 words]

Duskcloud, born an only kit to the leader of Plainsclan - mortal enemies of Glacial Blizzard Clan - had everything laid at his feet from the day he was born. Whatever he needed- food, entertainment, lessons- he had access to. He had nothing to worry about as far as living comfortably went, although when he was 4 moons old he realized there was something different about himself.

At that young age, Duskcloud realized he had developed his first childhood crush on another kit of lower status than he. The two kits would run off together to the outskirts of the territory to play or just hang out. Everything was great until the leader, Dusk's mother, caught onto what her only child was up to in his free time and decided to put an end to it then and there.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked sternly, a disappointed expression on her face.

"Nothin' mama," Duskcloud replied, smiling innocently at the tom kit sitting next to him. "Nettlekit and I were just hanging out, is all."

His mother examined him with her stern eyes, a million questions on her mind. Finally she said, "You should know that boy kits don't just hang out by themselves like this. You're too young for that."

"Oh.... so if we were older it would be okay?" Dusk asked with a tilt of his head, not fully comprehending what she was trying to tell him. "Or would it not be...?"

"No," his mother stated, turning her gaze to Nettlekit. "My son will not play with other toms, and that's final."

Dusk still didn't understand, but did as he was told. He didn't hang out with Nettlekit again to appease his mother even though it made him sad not to be able to spend his days playing with him and hanging out with him. One day he talked to his mother about liking this kit and wanting to spend more time with him.

"I will not have a son that is gay, that is final." she spat, not looking at her child as she continued sorting through some herbs.

"Why can't I be gay?" He inquired, not sure what that even meant.

"It angers the gods to be gay. Plainsclan is for creating the next generation as tom and molly. Not tom and tom."

"But... would it anger the gods for me to feel this way if they created me like this?" Duskcloud asked, feeling the annoyance growing in his mother.

"That's it," she said venomously, glaring into her child's very soul. "Get out- you don't belong here. It's obvious in more ways than one that you are unworthy of leading this clan one day."

Although he still didn't understand, he did as he was told and left the safety and comfort of his home where he had everything. In his new life, he had nothing; not even an extra pair of eyes to watch his back while he walked. Nothing could describe his fall from grace.

[Andromeda]

Username;; Bluebird-
Cat Name;; Gatorstripe
Gender;; Tom
Age;; 32 moons
Clan;; SeaClan
Rank;; Warrior

Prompt;; 409/500 - Accompanying Music

Gatorstripe had been wandering through the inland mangroves for quite some time now, weaving over and under the spindly roots that lined the river bank. He was always on the lookout for prey yet wary of the abundance in predators. Just above he heard the warbling of a cuckoo bird, the small white underbelly of the otherwise blue bird could be seen just above the river, roosting on a clump of mangrove branches. Never taking his eyes from it, Gatorstripe carefully and quietly climbed the mangroves, his claws sinking into the smooth wood.

There it was, just a couple feet in front of him. His dark, striped pelt hid him beautifully among the shaded leaves, the sun filtering in here and there dappling his coat and adding to the camouflage. Careful pawstep after pawstep brought Gatorstripe within swiping distance of the bird, but a snapper spawn in the water just below them leapt from the water to catch a small bug and splashed back down, sending the cuckoo flying off in a rustle of feathers. The sudden flight startled the tom and he lost his balance, sliding off the branches save for his two front paws hooked around a limb. The rest of his body dangled over the water as he kicked his back legs hopelessly trying to find a foothold. With a deep breath, the cat realized his only choice was the drop.

He sheathed his claws and fell down into the clear waters of the mangrove stream, his head popping up with an inhale as he paddled to the muddy bank quickly, well aware of the dangers that lurked in the blue-green water. With a violent shake, Gatorstripe attempted to clear himself of the water, his long, thick fur weighing down on him as he grunted and glanced irritably at the mangrove’s canopy before looking down into the river. His thrashing had stirred up the sand and, as it settled, he could make out the scaly brown figure of a small alligator lurking on the opposite bank, its slitted green eyes glaring at him, unmoving. The tom thanked StarClan he hadn’t fallen closer to the reptile, and he counted his blessings realizing had he swam to the other bank, he’d have been crabfood. With a last shake, the dark pelted cat lumbered home, dragging his feet through the sand and slinking halfheartedly over the mangrove roots until he disappeared into the beach grass bordering the mangrove forest.

[Schainukan]

Username;; Schainukan
Cat Name;; Kestrelwing
Gender;; Tom / Male
Age;; 27 moons
Clan;; Slateclan
Rank;; Hunter

Prompt;; Kestrelwing has an awful affinity for birds, he's fascinated by them and their ability to fly.

It's been a lush day out in Greenleaf and as so often, Kestrelwing was strolling through the woods, taking in the sound of birds singing and flying around. Sunlight dappling onto his brown tabby coat as he moved about, before climbing up the bark of a tree. From there, the cat leaped from branch to branch, the foliage brushing his pelt, feeling the resilient bark beneath his paws as he made his way to a large tree. Today, Kestrelwing felt awfully confident, he was ready to try his flight. The feline stood up there proudly, letting the breeze ruffle his fur as his gaze drifted across the scenery.

It was then that he suddenly heard a voice from below, surprising him visibly as his pelt prickled some. "What in Starclan's name are you doing, Kestrelwing?!" The cat questioned in a sharp tone, looking up at him. "I'm trying to fly." The tabby merely answered with a shrug. "You CAN'T fly! You're mouse-brained for believing you could!" They piped up with a lash of their tail, "Get down, NOW!". Kestrelwing rolled his eyes, "Uh-hu, not gonna happen." He mewed, slightly annoyed by now. The feline pulled back their lips, a growl escaping their maw, "We've been over this a couple of times, do you really intend to pull through??" Their voice on edge by now as well as their fur bristling. "Well, yes of course." He shot back, he couldn't quite understand why the other cat got so worked up about. "You're just going to crash and hurt yourself, could you just for ONCE see the consequences!! Do you really think you could fly?!" They huffed and puffed, angrily trying to lecture Kestrelwing but it wasn't going to stop him. He took a couple of steps back before taking a run-up and jumping off the branch, extending his limbs and stretching his paws. He started flapping them like one would do a wing but it didn't have any use, for a couple of seconds, which seemed like an eternity to him, he flew. However, everything after that went fairly quickly, Kestrelwing dropped in a straight line, his tail waving in the air before tumbling in a ball of fur along the ground. He released a short and sharp yowl of pain before coming to a halt. His clanmate raced after him, calling him as they gasped watching him fall. "You persistent piece of flea-dirt. Look at you now, I told you; you won't ever be able to fly, no matter how hard you try." They hissed with a disappointed shake of their head as they stood in front of him. "...it was worth it." Kestrelwing coughed a chuckle, a broad smile covering his lips. "Great Starclan, you will never learn, will you? Now let's get you patched up as far as possible because that front paw looks quite crooked.".
[494/500 words]

[SpaghettiOhs]

Username;; SpaghettiOhs
Cat Name;; Quietstorm
Gender;; male
Age;; 30 moons
Clan;; JuniperClan (link in sig)
Rank;; warrior

Prompt;;

StarClan must have thought that Quietstorm was the clumsiest cat in the world. He was constantly just... falling.

It began when he was barely more than a kit, long before joining JuniperClan. Back then, he was a rogue called Storm. At first, it was just him and his brother, Finch.

Finch was a liar, and Storm fell for his lies.

It began with little things.

"How did you get this rabbit? I didn't know you knew how to catch those!"

"Some strangers just gave it to me. I guess they had extra."

Eventually, the lies got bigger.

"Whatever happened to that kittypet that was hanging around here?"

"I don't know. Maybe her twolegs moved away and took her with them."

Storm believed it all.

After some time, Storm fell again. He fell in with a bad crowd.

Finch was charming. He easily collected a small collection of followers. Storm, following his brother's leadership, acted as something of a commander over a band of raiders, who chased off smaller groups of rogues and loners or raided their camps for supplies. He was surrounded by thugs and was led by a master manipulator. Still, he trusted that his brother acted in the best interests of the group.

Until Finch took things too far, and Storm finally saw what his brother had become.

Storm fell away from his brother.

He did the unthinkable. He could have saved him from that fox, but he chose not to. He left his brother for dead.

He felt as if he had fallen into a deep, dark pit. A pit so deep, he could hardly see the light so far above him. He had fallen so far and so often, he didn't believe he could ever climb back out again.

Ironically, falling again was what saved him.

Storm fell for a she-cat with silky white and fawn fur and blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed.

Robinfrost lifted him from the pit he had fallen into, and she carried him back to his new home and family in JuniperClan. He never spoke to anyone about his past, thus earning himself a new name: Quietstorm. He silently vowed to himself that he would never fall again, and he would do everything he could to protect this new life he had fallen into.

[ienrir]

Username;; ienrir
Cat Name;; amire (darkwillow)
Gender;; male
Age;; 35 moons
Clan;; cryptclan
Rank;; keeper

Prompt;;

The world was bleak and grey when the wailing young kitten finally opened his eyes. Everything darkened a shade by the biting rain. He withdrew further into the comfort of his mothers pelt, finally turning his pale gaze upwards to meet her stern, amber eyes. She had quite a broad muzzle, which seemed to be wrinkled up in disgust as he attempted to take shelter by her side. But her sent was soft and milky; undeniably that of the queen who had been nursing him tenderly. "Don't be such a coward." Her voice was colder than the occasional gales of wind, making his fur fluff up indecently.
"He's just a kit, Flutter." Amire swung his head around so fast, he could feel the swirl of motion in his ears. His father's voice was like an ebb of warmth, melting away his timid nature. Feeling slightly more encouraged, her clambered clumsily to his paws and padded over the the large tom; eyes rounded with burning curiosity.
"You're really big." Was the first thing that slipped out of his mouth; earning a light chuckle from his father.
"One day, you will be too."

From then on, Amire became somewhat of a curious kit; constantly testing the boundaries of his parents, and questioning every word they said. Naturally, he found it difficult to stay out of trouble, something which was dangerous when born into a rogue gang. It was only with the careful guidance of his mother that he learned the rules he'd have to follow. Rules were the only thing that'd keep him alive after all. Regardless, the young kitten despised being told what to do, and even at the tender age of four moons, he questioned the ethics of his mother hoarding the bones of her enemies. She tried to explain that it showed she was strong, but settled for telling him that he'd understand when he was older. Of course, he couldn't wait for that time of understanding to come. Though, it never really did.

The young tom spent a lot of time with his father, who would often steal Amire away so they could speak in private. Despite sporting admirable scars across his pelt, the older tom expressed great remorse for having to teach his son to be an 'foxhearted brute'. But he was a decent enough tom, sticking by the rules; if only to have a safe place to stay. He was constantly by Amire's side as a conscience of sorts; counteracting anything his mother uttered to him. He constantly voiced what was right and wrong; often challenging the laws that gang had laid down. But, of course, Amire was never allowed to tell anyone about his father's morals. It was to be their little secret. They could get in trouble if anyone found out about their treasonous conversations.

But as the little kit grew older, he often found himself torn between his parent's views; the lines of what was right and wrong constantly blurring, and changing. On one had was his mother, encouraging him to be ruthless and strong, and on the other, his father, telling him that everything he'd ever been taught was wrong. There was no doubt that Amire was a conflicted young cat; drowning under the pressure of keeping his father's secrets. He was nine months old the day Slater came to him with the biggest choice he'd ever have to make. A choice that he'd later come to refer to as the worst mistake of his life.

"You want to leave? What do you mea-"
"Amire, listen to me." His father's words were surprisingly abrupt, causing the young tabby to falter in his speech. This wasn't a joke, he could tell from the somber blue gaze his father had fixed him with. "We have to leave. This place isn't right, I don't want you to grow up like this. You're a good kit." His voice was hushed, but the urgency in his words were unmistakable. He was scared.
"But mother said-"
"It doesn't matter what your mother said!" Slater's hackles bristled in a moment of furry, before he attempted to continue on; relatively calmer this time. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. She's crazy. In fact, half the cats here are crazy. And the other half? They're just cowards!" Amire opened his mouth to speak in defense, but felt it snap back closed. He didn't know how to respond to his father's sudden outburst. "Amire, listen. I was a coward too. I've been afraid to leave here. I set aside my own morals, just so I could have a place to stay. I don't want you to do the same." For a moment there was nothing but silence between them, and gentle scraping of tarmac as his father's claws kneaded the ground.
"Where... would we go?" Amire began hesitantly, once again sounding like a lost little kit. His father's features softened considerably, as he continued on.
"I met a housepet just before you were born. She was kind, and willing to share her home with me."
"A housepet?" The young tom interrupted, frustration seeping through his words.
"She's a good cat, Amire. We can live a happy life with her."
"But what about mother? She hates housepets!" The tom practically spat, though his expression soon dropped into a grimace of realization. "You want to leave her don't you? You've been going of and seeing this housepet for moons, and you're going to steal me and leave her with nothing!" He'd never felt so infuriated in all his live; the thought of running away, and leaving the cat who'd cared for him all these moons. His father had betrayed them both.
"It's not like that. Your mother and I, don't see things the same way anymore. She would never understand that this is the right thing to do."
"Shut up, traitor! I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses. And I don't want to leave with you!" Amire felt the anger scorching under his skin; his own claws sliding out to graze across the ground. He wanted so badly to hurt his father. He wanted to make him take it back. But instead, he turned on his heels and briskly padded away; not bothering to cast a glance back as his father called out.
"I'll wait here, tomorrow at sun high. I know you'll make the right choice, Amire."

That was the proposition he'd been offered, the gang, or his father. When he returned to camp, his mother was instantly at his side; fussing over the tears that had unknowingly began snaking down his cheeks. He was so angry that his father had considered leaving. So angry that he couldn't just follow the rules like a normal cat; like a brave cat. Traitors should die. Of course there were times when the gang's rules seemed too harsh, but it was the price they had to pay for choosing to live with them. He couldn't imagine any other way of life. When his mother scolded him for crying, and attempted to coax him out of his distraught state, the young tom felt his wavering mind grapple with three words.

"Father's a traitor."

His mother cheered the loudest when his father was killed. She cheered like some sort of frenzied animal as the gang tore his pelt. But even in his dying moments, Slater stole a glance at his son; both sets of eyes locking, conveying so many words that neither would have a chance to say. I'm sorry... I forgive you. And then when the commotion died down, and the example had been set, his mother turned to him; eyes welling with pride. "You did the right thing, Amire. You really are a good kit."

Only three moons had passed since his father's death, and the remorse had settled heavy in young tom. He was less than content with his life, but had learned to hide behind a mask of enthusiasm. He'd managed to befriend a young tom named Adrian; a reckless cat, with a bad attitude. Yet, the two were pretty much inseparable. As far as friends went, Adrian was the best Amire could have hoped for. Strong, intelligent and fun, he quickly became somewhat of a role model. Someone that Amire looked up to and loved as though they were flesh and blood. They might as well have been brothers.

He'd never wanted to be a bone collector. Not really. That was all he could think when he saw the petite housepet passing over into gang's territory. He was a fighter, a loyalist, as devoted to the rules as his mother was... but as he met eyes with the stranger, all he could see was his father's accusing blue gaze staring back at him. And for a split second he felt it. The guilt that he'd been trying so hard to suppress, when he'd ratted out his own kin. Just that split second was enough to make him regret it; the choice he'd made moons ago. He should have left with his father, and lived as a housepet. He should have been a better cat. He knew that now. But it was too late. And when the cat timidly inquired about Slater, there was nothing Amire could do to conceal his crime.

He offered the she-cat some food, and warned her not to return to the territory. Slater wasn't going to be seeing her anymore. For the first time he seemed to realize that this wasn't how he should be living; how much longer could he continue follow rules that he'd begun to doubt? The kittypet told him that the offer she'd made to his father still stood, and he took it. He'd go with her to live with the twolegs; perhaps it would give him a change to figure out his morals.

But Adrian had seen it all. He'd seen the small act of kindness towards the house pet, and he wasn't about to let it slide. Amire had shamed the rules he'd sworn to abide by, he'd insulted their way of life and he was going to turn tail and run like a coward; a traitor. Like father like son.

Stripped of his rights and set as an example before the gang, it wasn't a question of if he'd die, but when. No food, no water, no eye contact from anyone. Only two days had passed by before he was groveling at his mother's paws, begging for something, anything to drink. But she turned her back on him, just as she had done to his father. Just as he had done to his father. The irony was thick, but he couldn't eat irony, he could only be taunted by it. Adrian was a constant presence; trailing after him to make sure he suffered for what he had done; a guard to ensure his slow demise.

Amire couldn't bare the hunger, the pain. But worst of all he couldn't bare that no one was willing to help. He was so lonely, in a crowd of cats. Passing out was the most merciful thing his body had done for him; though he couldn't tell whether it was the hunger or the pain that had caused it. When he came too, his mother was crouched by him; encouraging him to eat the food she'd brought. Her usually icy gaze was filled with maternal worry, as she helped her son to his paws.

"Eat something. Eat something as fast as you can, and then run." It was only then that he noticed the blood staining her paws; the gashes across her cheek.
"W...where'sAdrian?" His words came out in a barely intelligible tumble, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. Though the question was so obviously written in his perplexed expression.
"You killed him. You attacked me, and then you ran away before I could catch you." She moved forward to rest her tail over his shoulders, the implication she was making pretty obvious to him. This was his chance to escape. She was offering him the freedom that he'd longed for.
"You won't come with me?"
"I can't. This is my home, Amire. But it can't be yours any longer. Now hurry, before anyone notices you're gone."
Amire pressed his face into his mother's fur, feeling a rush of affection for the sharp feline. He didn't know if her story would be believed, but regardless, he wasn't about to ruin her only effort to protect him. He'd dragged her down with him in his fall from grace.
"Thank you, mother."

[ataraxic_gone]

Username;; dewly_noted
Cat Name;; Kestrel Flying
Gender;; male
Age;; 67 moons
Clan;; Fallen
Rank;; King

Prompt;;
There was a heavy expectation on the leadership of the clan. The first was to lead, as you would expect, the second was to ensure the royal blood line continued into the future; that no matter what children of their first leader, who's name had long since forgotten, remained in power.

He understood why it was so important, only those with the first leader's blood held the power to gain nine lives, to grace deaths door and return unscathed. It was why they were so effective as a tribe, the cats could trust them.

And yet, here he stood above a litter of kits, three his own, one from another.

They hadn't really spoken about it- they hadn't really spoken at all. Leaping Hare had shaken him awake when her kits were due and as was the tradition they travelled across the territory so that their kits could be born in the sacred place. They had spent a week alone together, deciding their kits first names and relishing in each other's company.

On their way back is where things had gone so wrong- a small kit alongside the lake, white fur to match Leaping Hare, a near striking resemblance to the rest of the litter. Maybe it was maternal desire to protect and nurture but the moment Leaping Hare saw the kit it was theirs. Kestrel made no attempt to sway her, they simply locked eyes and knew.

It wouldn't be a problem, how could it. When the time came for him to retire his children, those with the royal bloodline would rise above a stray from the highlands.

He didn't expect for Rising Fox, his adopted son, unbeknown to his clan, to become the most worthy of his line. He didn't expect for the following of his adopted son to become so great that the weight of his lie would bear down on him and his health. Despite his heritage he said nothing.

He could feel the burning judgement of his ancestors. He had fallen from their standards, abandoned his families standards for the sake of his people's future. They would never be able to forgive him for letting this happen but he couldn't let his people have anything less then the best. They deserved Rising Fox, they deserved the best.

"Ancestors forgive me."

He asked, even though he knew they wouldn't.

He had fallen too far from their grace. [401/500]

[NaCl]

Username;; NaCl
Cat Name;; Tallpine
Gender;; Male
Age;; 45 moons
Clan;; Fadedclan (will move to second clan)
Rank;; Warrior (will be Ursa Major/Leader)

Prompt;;
There was a pause, a silence, in the normally lively and loud forest of Celestialclan’s future territory. In the middle of the forest lay the spirit of a cat, his bark brown coat dotted with white was almost masked by the browning leaves on the ground around him. His coat danced with small stars that slowly faded with time, as more leaves and snow piled on his form.
Eventually, the snow melted and the leaves blew away, leaving a tall and disorientated cat standing in the middle of a clearing, his soft grass green eyes opened for the first time. He was there without a name but there with a purpose, he was there to make a clan that worshiped everything about the night sky, Starclan included.
He cleared out the space he fell down to, even moving a rock right to where he had woken up, calling the large stone “Ursa’s rock.” It was perfectly shaped for meetings, and some wonder how he was even able to move it to where it was, but no one questioned his power, because they didn’t need nor want to.
And the night he placed the rock and slept beside it, he was greeted by the star coated cats he was once a part of, telling him how proud they were of him, but he didn’t know who they were. The star cats said their sorries, telling him that they are Starclan, that he was chosen to fall from the stars to the ground, to make a clan dedicated to them, to lead it for nine lives, that his name was Tallpine, they told him he was referred to as Ursa Major among the starry ranks of the ancestors.
Tallpine spent all night with them, telling them all of his ideas for what would become Celestialclan, how he would choose the perfect Ursa Minor to become Major after him, how he would dedicate the clan and its legacy to them, to Starclan, because that’s what he was put on the earth to do.
[The Legend of The First Ursa Major, Tallpine, told by Elders and Queens]
[352 words]