Post by hopepaw on Apr 28, 2009 23:24:21 GMT -5
HOPEPAW
[/size]my light's gone out and my time's run up [/center][/font][/color][/size]
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blessed with HOPEPAW
chromosomes DOUBLE X | SHE-CAT
bound to BROOKCLAN
in trials of faith NINE MOON APPRENTICE
a perfect image A SOFT-PELTED IVORY SHE-CAT WITH BLUE EYES
under the veilHAVING HOPE IS LIKE HOLDING HANDS IN THE DARK, she says. It is, while living, the power to grasp at the stars when everything seems as dark and black as the seamless sky. It is the most strongest, most passionate feeling and yet seems to appear in the most quiet, shyest way. Hopepaw should know this. She was named after it.
Aptly named, this young she-cat is pure and sweet and holy in all means necessary. When she was born, there was no doubt that her parents were wishing for something special to happen -- they needed a miracle after everything they went through and while their new kits were not the miracle they had been searching for, they were the next closest thing. Perhaps Wingedheart saw her daughter's brilliant ivory coat and soft blue eyes, like that of a StarClan cat's, and knew that Hopepaw would be the future. Their future.
She is a cat who is quiet, but not shy, a cat who is warm and sweet with a sort of innocence around her, surrounding her in a golden veil, that draws so many to her. You can see in her eyes - the sparkle, the light - that she still has not lost her childhood, as so many cats have already. At times the young cat is naive, even labeled a pushover by some, but at others she is completly wise, with a strange authority that seems foreign.
The ivory she-cat is not a daddy's girl, but she does harbor a great affection for both of her parents and even hopes, someday, that she might be able to have a love like the one that exists between her two parents, as if it was fated in the stars. Like her father, she bears a great talent for weaseling herself out of sticky situations but when it really comes down to it, she often finds herself feeling guilt and anguish over the smallest deed -- for now she is weak, perhaps because she was - like so many others - spoiled and cared for. This does not change the fact that she has a quick wit, and an equally quick tongue to boot, with a humorous twinkle that often makes cats laugh along with her jokes, even if they would not - coming from any other lips - seem very funny at all.
No doubt will she grow up to be a strong-minded, passionate feline that cats from all over will come to admire -- she will grow into the type of warrior everyone looks up to and loves, with her bright smiles and silver laughter, a cat that looks as if she's grown out of her childhood - as everyone assumes is supposed to happen when we reach a certain age (although for some, maybe like her, it will never be lost). She is true, she is pure.
She is hopepaw.
through the layersA BLESSING IN DISGUISE, they say. Take a look at this young she-cat and cats are often blinded by the intensity of the color of her fur. The color itself is not interesting, nor is the lack of patterns on her fur, but the way the shade seamlessly flows through ivory strands is outstanding in itself. There seems to be a sort imperfect perfection in the hue, making her both cute and tantalizing, soft and strong, at once.
There is a golden touch to her blindingly white, as though sprinkled with the softest snow, fur. It is not laced with dark, brilliant gold bands like the eyes of her grandfather, nor is it pressed with patches of either shadowed black or the smoldering autumn hues of her mother; no, instead it is a gently pressed feeling of light that seeps through her bones, lending her strength whenever she may need it.
If anything is completely clear and utterly defined by looking at this sweet, soft-pelted she-cat is that she looks nothing like her siblings and instead, her genes probably consist of something farther than her parent's patched colors. She shares her grandmother's blue eyes - all twinkling and sparkling and perfectly blue, like pristine water off a lake - and seems to bear the same coat as Mosstail (the mother of her father), a pale hue patched with unseen tabby patterns.
In matters of build, it could be said that she looks like her mother more than her father -- and while this is reasonable, this can also be argued that this is not utterly true. With a slim figure and a slender build, this young she-cat is smaller than most and has a tendency to trip over her too-big paws and too-long limbs. She has a quiet dainty nose, a soft pink, and two wide ears that sit atop her round head, with a laughing smile that brings hope to your heart.
rewind it back IT WAS CHAOS. It was like being born into the war. Kolette's army of foxes had attacked the forest and had taken complete control of it. Fernstar had grown ill and was slowly dying as Swiftclaw took control of the clan in his sister's absence. It seemed as if there was no hope, that BrookClan had no choice but to amend to the other three clan's wishes and simply die off, a punishment that they shouldn't have to face or any cat should have to, for that matter. Yet, despite this, death loomed over the once-powerful clan in ways it hadn't before, not even when the drought almost destroyed them. Almost everyone had lost hope.
In an effort to save the clan, Swiftclaw and Wingedheart had joined together. They were warriors who barely knew each other, but their loyalty and devotion to the clan bonded them. Before long, even in the despair of death wavering over them and the clan, Wingedheart found herself pregnant with a new litter of kits, whom of which belonged to Swiftclaw. At the time, she did not think she loved him, but she did love the small, mewling bodies inside her that shared his warmth and color.
When Hopekit and her siblings were born, Kolette and her army of followers still had control over the entire forest. There was no saying whether or not this white-furred kitten, named after the hope that flowed in her parents' hearts, would be mauled alive and whether or not, her laugh would die away, her heart would cease to live, and everything that Wingedheart and Swiftclaw had strived for would waste away or be murdered as so many other warriors.
Some would say she was lucky. Why? Because Hopekit and her siblings did not die. In fact, there were the epitome of hope and faith. They, along with their father who had unofficially been named leader of BrookClan, keeped the clan afloat in their fluttering smiles and bright eyes. When they scuffled, most of the clan watched -- simply because the idea of such an innocence, such ignorance of what was going on around them, was lost on them, forgotten in the moons that they had had to fight for their lives.
Then, suddenly, even with the blackness of death already crushing down upon their shoulders, light peeked through the broken forest. A yowl had broken through the camp and Swiftclaw admitted to killing Kolette, the bloodthirsty fox who had led her army of followers of chasing cats out of their food and home, who made more than half of Fernstar's warriors to abandon her, including Redstorm, her deputy and eventually, led to her death.
Even after this uplifting news, most cats were wary of what would happen to BrookClan now. They could not live in the forest, for it would be moons before it would be able to return to their former glory after Kolette and her army had maliciously destroyed it. Yet, they could not die and give up. BrookClan would not die.
She was six moons when that yowl broke into camp. It had not been long since her ceremony and she did not have a mentor to tell her that it was alright, only a mother who she could follow out, with wide-eyes and panicked hearts, only to be so suddenly relieved to see the blood-stained pelt of her father, to see him breathing and living, that she nearly jumped on him in sheer happiness. Yet, as innocent and ignorant she was at the time, young Hopepaw did not miss the crackling silence of the other apprentices or the warriors around her. She knew that they were not out of the woods yet.
But, loyal to her name, she had hope that they would survive and everlasting faith, as well. She would always be like this, had to be like this -- if they were not, why would she be named as such? So she followed her father and mother with neverending trust, knowing that they would eventually reach a home in which she could laugh and smile and play without feeling the blackness fogging the air she breathed and death choking every step she took.
In the moons that they journeyed to her new home, the young she-cat did not have any silly ideas that she would meet the other clans again or that, if she did, any of the other clans would forgive them. Hopepaw did not care, simply because she had not gained the knowledge she should have and forged the friendships she otherwise would have. Instead, she became closer with her siblings and her clan, learning from each warrior in a way that was better than having a single mentor.
Now, imagined her surprise, at reaching her new home and knowing that the other clans are here too. Not only this, but soon she will have new siblings who will grow up in a world where the air is clean and the sky is blue. They will grow up knowing that their parents love each other, that the warriors are not afraid of anything anymore, and they will teach the clan to have fun again, to laugh again.
And that, my friends, is something Hopepaw cannot wait for.
