in my mind [silverhawk]

[silverhawk]

_{it started with a low light}
SILVERHAWK
^{it's all in your mind.}

Name: Silverhawk
Gender: Tom
Age: 24 moons
Clan: RavineClan
Rank: Medicine Cat

Appearance:

Strengths:

• Speed
  
• Fighting abilities
  
• Strong nose.

Weaknesses:

• Strength
  
• Constant chatter
  
• Wandering mind.

Personality:

[/b] to him. His version of Hell would be a life without his clanmates. He loves them, lives for them. Every moment of his day is spent thinking of others. He became a medicine cat mostly so that he could help his clan. Otherwise he would have become the type of warrior who never seems to sleep, constantly hunting or patrolling. As a medicine cat, though, he is certainly more satisfied than he would be as a warrior. He loves feeling needed, although he'd adore his clan even if he wasn't. Just because he's a medicine cat, though, doesn't mean he wouldn't make an excellent warrior. His first mentor, Darkrain, once muttered it was a bit of a shame he chose his current path. His battle skills would be legendary if he ever actually used them. However, Silverhawk pretty much fails at hunting. While he's graceful and fluid in a fight, his paws become clumsy and awkward when hunting. His brother says he's an excellent example of "what not to do". Besides his paws, Silverhawk never seems very capable of shutting up. He's almost always talking, even if it's just to himself. Because of this, he does seem a bit of an idiot, but that's quite incorrect. When he's not healing or helping, Silverhawk spends his time observing his clanmates. It's really the only time he's ever quiet. He knows all of his clanmates perhaps better than he knows himself. He can almost always tell when there is anything bothering any of them. He's come to know all of the relationships in the clan very well, from the secret ones to the ones that are barely beginning. He fancies himself quite the matchmaker. And although his intuition on which cats would be great together is usually correct, his methods of setting them up aren't always. Sometimes he blunders completely, and it's only the will of the two lovers that keeps them together at all.[/ul]Likes:

• His clan
  
• Brownspot
  
• Gryffinwing
  
• Dreampaw
  
• Healing

Dislikes:

• Fighting
  
• Foxes
  
• Seeing clanmates hurt
  
• Fish
  
• Winter

History:

[/color]_____ HAPPY
Redmartin's paws padded swift and sure. A limp bundle of dark fur hung from his sharp, white canines. It was for Graywhisker. His beautiful beloved. The instant his mind turned to her, the fierce hunter turned into a swooning, lovesick puppy. He grinned through his fresh-kill, almost dropping it.

Without thinking or looking, he allowed his paws to pulled him closer to home. RavineClan. The perfect oasis. Redmartin's thoughts rarely turned to the other clans; and why would they? With such a perfect territory and such excellent clanmates, why look away? He purred a little laugh as he leaped down a path of large rocks and slipped into the ravine from which the clan drew its name.

Shadows danced in the darkness of the camp, the trees high above along the ravine's edge. Only a few sprinkles of light came down to him, flashing off his handsome auburn pelt. He dipped his head quickly to several of his clanmates, Rainfur and Darkrain, before turning and slipping into a den without light.

Their scents filled his nose at once and he smiled softly. The first and most prominent was Graywhisker's, her wispy scent suiting her long gray fur. But with it was more: the scent of milk and tiny new life. Redmartin's eyes adjusted quickly, and he grinned so widely that he really did drop his catch. Graywhisker purred a gentle giggle, smiling softly at him. Her pale amber eyes shined with adoration.

Curled up close to her were their perfect, beautiful kits. The first was the perfect melding of the two parents. It was a tom. His fur was Graywhisker's shade of silver, but with Redmartin's stripes. He lay with his tiny face hidden in her mountain of light fur. The second didn't look at all like Graywhisker. The queen didn't mind. In fact, she adored him more for the way his dark auburn pelt and thick stripes were exactly like his father's.

Not removing his eyes from his handsome sons, the thin warrior curled close to his mate, a smile plastered permanently to his face. They were all so young, all so naive. But they were a family. And they were happy.


_____ HEARTBROKEN
The prickle of small feet moved down his side. For a split second it disappeared entirely, then suddenly reappeared with a jolt on the tip of his tail. Redmartin slowly lifted his head, looking over at his silver-pelted son with cold, empty green eyes. He cringed, trying to push it away, but the name surfaced in his mind anyway: Silverkit. Named after Graywhisker.

The dark-furred warrior closed his eyes, face tranquil, but claws digging into the ground. It wasn't easy to look at either of them. They both had her name written all over them. Even Brownkit, who was the spitting image of his father, reminded Redmartin of his lost mate. She had named the kit. He could still recall the spark in her eyes as she looked playfully up at him and declared the name: Brownkit. Redmartin had returned the favor with Silverkit. He now wished he'd named his sons something else, anything else. Just so he could look at them again.

He lay his head back on his paws as Silverkit's weight moved off his tail. He could hear the tiny tom's small paws shuffle over to a leaf and begin stomping on it, presumably just to hear it crinkle loudly.

Redmartin sighed softly, cursing StarClan themselves. They should have done something... anything. It had all begun with a landslide. Little ones weren't uncommon in RavineClan's steep territory. But this one had been much larger. And it had left death in its wake. Sorrelsky, the clan's deputy and Graywhisker's best friend since very early kithood, was buried in the rubble. The silver queen's mind slowly cracked.

She couldn't have helped it; she had always been a soft, gentle creature [it was why he loved her]. She had never been witness to death before. And her first experience had destroyed her. It had taken a moon to drive away her will to live. Her life just slowly wasted away. Other queens had been nursing Silverkit and Brownkit since they were a moon and a half old.

It was quiet. Much too quiet. Redmartin quickly opened his eyes, lifting his head and snapping it around. Brownkit was sitting in the sunlight, his tiny tongue sweeping over his forepaw. Where was Silverkit? The frantic father leaped to his feet and was about to begin searching when Silverkit darted out of the warriors' den without a word and began to pummel his brother's face with sheathed claws. Redmartin let out a relieved sigh. Silverkit had too much energy for his own good. He was ever getting into trouble.

The dark warrior lifted his eyes. Silverkit gave Brownkit another few smacks before one tiny, brown paw came out and whap! hit Silverkit between the eyes. Redmartin was laughing before he realized it. His voice echoed into the silent camp, chasing away the horrible sorrow. Several cats looked out from their dens, surprised. So great was his amusement that he was soon rolling on the ground, struggling to breathe. Finally, he fell silent with a content sigh. He opened his eyes once more and found both Silverkit and Brownkit staring at him with looks of alarm and concern.


_____ FIGHTER
Silverpaw tilted his ears back, listening until the sound of his brother's paw steps fully disappeared. Brownpaw's words still hung in his ears. "Imma go find Ivorywind." The sleek silver tabby clicked his teeth, shuffled his paws, and let his ears rise back up to their forward-facing position. Darkrain was sure to be there any moment. The two brothers had been training for nearly a moon, even though they were only a quarter-moon over six moons of age.

There was a visible change in the young cat. His ears seemed to droop, and his pale amber eyes softened in what seemed to be sorrow. He didn't like to think about it. Most cats would have been thrilled to receive their mentors early, but it had been a sad event for the entire clan. The ceremony had been held at sunset, three days after Redmartin's death. Darkrain, a black-furred she-cat who had been a friend of both Redmartin and Graywhisker since kithood, had accepted Silverpaw as her apprentice with a prideful stance, but the young silver tabby had seen the sadness that had lingered in her beautiful blue eyes. The clan's deputy, a patched she-cat named Ivorywind had taken over Brownpaw's training.

He forced himself back to the present, hearing a twig snap behind him. There was a little rustle, and the apprentice was on his feet at once. The instant he'd turned, he was shoved backwards against the ground with an audible oof!, the breath knocked out of his small body.

"Not good enough." The dark-furred she-cat stepped back off her apprentice, frowning in obvious scorn. "If I were an enemy warrior, you'd be dead by now." Silverpaw nodded like an obedient apprentice, but flashed her a glare all the same. His ears fell back once more, and he ground his teeth together in angry annoyance. The warrior had taken a few steps back and shot him a look of equally deep annoyance. "Well, don't just sit there! Make up for it; come at me."

Unlike other, more reservered cats his age, Silverpaw didn't hesitate. He didn't even take the time to fully prepare himself. Instead, he pushed hard against the ground and flew at his mentor when she was only partially prepared. But Darkrain was a skilled warrior and a very adept fighter. As Silverpaw's paws connected with her shoulders, she let her body move with him, falling over to her back, then using her back legs to fling him back over her with his own momentum. He landed heavily, but leaped to his feet quickly.

"That's a start. It was good thinking to attach before you thought I was prepared, but a bad move on your part because you are far too untrained just yet to attack properly without preparation. Besides," she snorted, lip curling, "A cat of your size and stature should never use an attack like that. It would have been perfect for a cat like myself or your brother: broad shoulders and large size. But you're too thin to use your weight to overpower a cat." She flicked her tail in the direction of his legs. "Look at your legs. They're thin, but long. What kind of attacks does that suggest you should use?"

"Speed," he answered after a brief second's thought. She nodded lightly, then flicked her tail for him to begin again.

This time he hesitated a second, contemplating her demise. She was so smug and demanding; he's show her! He lashed his tail to the side and shot forward. His first attempt was feeble, he'd admit. He leaped close to her right shoulder, reaching out to nip at her faintly-striped forearm. She surprised him, however, with her left paw coming quickly out and batting him twice in the face. He leaped backwards, away from her attack. This time, there was no hesitation or thinking. He pushed off from the ground even harder than the first time, aiming for her throat.

"No!" she snarled, and dropped her head as she prepared to launch up to meet him. Silverpaw moved without thinking. He dipped his head low, tilted his tail down and pulled his legs out in a graceful mid-air bow. Her head was still half-dipped when he reached her. Instead of trying to barrel her over, he simply let gravity work. His small paws connected with her forehead, and the weight of his body pushed her face down quickly, into the ground.

He pushed off her head quickly, giving it another jolt into the dry ground, and landed a few foxlengths away. Turning back around to face her, his look of smug satisfaction disappeared quickly. Her ears were flat to her head as she pulled her face from the dirt. Darkrain shook once, then turned to look at him. Her black-furred face was covered in dust. Tail down, Silverpaw prepared himself for the worst.

But the look in his mentor's crystal blue eyes wasn't fury. In fact, it was the emotion he'd least expected: pride.

_____ FEAR
For the first time in his life, Silverpaw was truly and completely terrified. It was odd, he knew. When he sprinted a few steps ahead of Darkrain and the other warriors, heading for StarClan knew what fate, he hadn't felt a flicker of fear nor doubt. But, now, sitting just outside the medicine cat's den, he felt so frightened that the emotion threatened to overwhelm him. His silver paws shook, and his tail was more still than he thought it had ever been before. He unsheathed his claws and let them sink into the ground, trying to steady himself. He clamped his eyes firmly shut, trying to quiet the wave of horror within him. Silverpaw opened his eyes, wincing slightly at the pain that thudded in his cut ear. Blood ran freely from it and down onto his shoulder. But it paled in comparison to... He couldn't keep himself from shuddering, shoulders and head sinking as the emotions inside pulled his heart down.

"Don't worry, Silverpaw. I'm sure everything will be alright," a warm, male voice told him. The silver apprentice lifted his head, pale amber eyes looking in the direction of the speaker. It was a golden-furred tom with dark spots adorning his coat. Cheetahstar. Silverpaw dipped his head lightly in respect, but didn't feel any less terrified. The large leader passed by him, pausing to whisper a few words to Darkrain. Silverpaw looked away, feeling embarrassed. He wanted to urge Cheetahstar to go more quickly and discover what news he could from the medicine cat, but he felt like he was eavesdropping when he watched the two adults speak so quietly and gently to each other. He glanced back over just as the two cats brushed muzzles and Cheetahstar turned away to slip into the medicine cat's den.

"Have they said anything yet?"

Silverpaw jumped in surprise, not having heard anyone approaching. Beside him stood a young warrior named Gryffinwing. She was only a moon or two older than him, but her skills were still far beyond what he'd learned in his training. She was loner-born, and she had lived on her own for moons before joining RavineClan only a moon or two previously. Most of her fur was a pale sand-brown, darkening around her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were a brilliantly dark blue. She seemed to share Silverpaw's fear more than any of the others.

"I mean, StarClan wouldn't let Brownpaw die, would they?" her light voice rang with nervousness, but also faith.

The tabby apprentice turned his head away, looking down at his paws. He hadn't thought of it that way. Would StarClan refuse to let Brownpaw die? Would they work for hours and hours like the medicine cat Watermint to keep the life from seeping from his still-growing body like the blood that had already flowed so easily from him? Silverpaw shuddered violently, the memory of his brother's wound coming to mind too forcefully. It was a large, gaping wound on his back right leg, reaching from his mid-thigh down to his ankle. Worse than the blood even was the horrible angle at which Brownpaw's auburn leg hung.

Silverpaw growled aloud, digging his claws into the ground and leaping to his feet. The two she-cats--Darkrain and Gryffinwing--watched as he began to pace back and forth with great agitation. Gryffinwing tried feebly to get him to sit back down and try to remain calm, but Darkrain didn't say a word. Silverpaw imagined it was because she already knew what it was like to loose a sibling.

He hated them. Hated those horrible creatures with fiery fury that swelled up in his chest. Clanners were taught to show compassion for other animals and never kill unless necessary, but Silverpaw felt a burning need to kill every fox within a moon's journey of RavineClan. He wanted to feel his claws sink through their coarse fur and into soft flesh. He craved to feel their foul-scented blood ooze out between his toes. The vivid visions of slaughtering foxes--dogs, vixens, and kits all the same--ran wild in his mind as he paced angrily back and forth.

He heard a voice suddenly, cutting through his thoughts. He looked up, surprised to find Cheetahstar, Darkrain, and Gryffinwing all staring at him expectantly. A fourth cat appeared to have been talking to him, although he'd missed his words. "Come, Silverpaw." It was the medicine cat, Watermint. His long, tabby fur was ruffled and seemed to have some blood in it, but his very pale eyes were alight with emotion."You may come in now. I think Brownpaw is going to be just fine..."

_____ ALONE
The air was silent around him. The sun hung low in the sky, preparing to vanish below the horizon. Silverpaw knew he should be hurrying.

But the weight on his chest was simply too much. He didn't even think as he came to a gentle stop and sat down. The silver tabby didn't even have the energy to pull his ears flat to his head and demonstrate the turmoil that filled his entire body.

Three days.

Only three days had passed since his life had begun twisting and turning so drastically. In reality, it had begun several moons ago, when Brownpaw had been so terribly injured in the fox attack. Each day since had brought Silverpaw further and further from the cat he once was.

At first, only concern for his brother had kept him sitting in the medicine cat's den so frequently. He was careful to watch over his dark-furred brother while he slept and slowly began to heal. After half a moon, though, Brownpaw slipped out of danger. From that point, he just sat around all day, refrained from walking about or training only because Watermint forbade it. His leg was set with several sticks, wrapped in cobwebs. It was often falling off, so Brownpaw was told to sit or lay down almost constantly. Watermint would allow him the short five or six steps out of the medicine cat's den so he could sit out in camp all day to watch the clan move around without him. By that point, Silverpaw was already hooked. He visited his brother more than once a day as if Brownpaw were still dying. He skipped out on his training so he could make sure his brother was eating his herbs daily. Day by day, it came to have less to do with Brownpaw and more to do with the mystery of healing.

Silverpaw was ensnared by Watermint. The aged tom's air of secrecy and power held the young silver tom captivated.

[not done yet, but i am sooo bored of working on it]

[/ul]
Family:

• Redmartin, father, brown tabby
  
• Graywhisker, mother, long-haired silver
  
  
• Brownspot, brother, thickset brown tabby
  
• Gryffinwing, sister-in-law, light brown-and-creme
  
• Nieces: Robinkit, Faithkit
  
• Nephews: Fogkit, Lionkit, Graykit
  

Roleplay Example: n/a


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