faith like a [gryffin]

[gryffinwing]

basics

i am called gryffinwing
i am a ravineclan queen
i am a she-cat
i have lived 26 moons
i have given my heart to brownspot

going deeper

face value: Gryffinwing is an oddly beautiful she-cat. Her stature is slender, her carriage agile and swift, which is rather common for cats. Yet her tail is longer than average, and not quite as fluffy as others. Her main pelt color is a light brown, yet her paws are ringed with white, and her tail-tip is also ringed with it. She has dark brown accents just above her fierce eyes, and on her ears. Cream shadows her light brown pelt on her chest, neck, and underbelly. Her eyes are a deep, expressive midnight blue. Her claws are a dark black, an odd color for claws, yet everything about this oddly-named cat is unique. When she is with the kits, or her mate, she is gentle and kind, teasing and playful. Yet the instant she is thrown into battle, her whole appearance is striking, imposing, the look in her eyes enough to kill. She is covered in light scars, but her most prominent ones are on her underbelly, from a tragic punishing long, long ago. One of the more intimidating scars is one in the shape of teeth on her belly. image

beneath the surface: Gryffinwing has always been a cat of two faces: the reserved, quiet, nearly invisible she-cat who fades into the background, and the happy, loving, tender she-cat whose personality shines quietly. Her tender and sweet nature manifests itself mainly in actions, not words, though her velvety soft voice can croon sweet nothings into the ears of her beloved Brownspot as easily as she breathes. But she suffers from anxiety levels far higher than healthy for a she-cat with a mate and kits, for she finds herself prone to having panic attacks. She can handle worry and stress, but under certain circumstances it can nearly kill her with worry. Out of her tender love and affection is created a natural-born worry wart. It's one of the traits that she's trying to smother. Other than that and her fear of heights, she's a pretty even-tempered sweet cat full of love.

into the past: Gryffinwing was born into a group of cats who called themselves the Survivors. That's all. It was spring, and prey was plentiful, the water was flowing. Her name, as a kit, was Faith. She had two brothers from her litter- both larger and more muscled than she. The largest was named Fog, and the next to largest was Fort, then Faith.

Her mother was kind and gentle to the kits, whose name was Flower. Faith's father was named River. (As a kit and 'apprentice,' all of the kit names stayed the same. Yet, when they became old enough to care for themselves, each new Survivor could choose their own name.)

Faith, Fort and Fog had fun together. They would romp and play, and Faith's outlook on life grew from timid to excited. All of her Survivor-mates seemed to dote on the kits, except for River and some older Survivors. Summer came, and everything brightened even more.

Fall descended. The Survivors began to ignore the trio of happiness, who were befuddled and confused. It didn't seem fair- why were all of their older friends ignoring them? Their mother tried to stop their questions, their flood of curiosity, but she was too kind, and failed.

One day, when the Survivors were having a meeting, Faith and Fog crept up to try and listen, try to understand why they were being ignored.

That was one of the biggest mistakes of their lives. Lucky Fort, had elected to stay behind, to 'keep watch.' (Really, Fort was the shiest of the three; he took greatly after Flower, who preferred to keep the rules.) The Head Liver, Claw, punished them both. Severely.

He took them out of the camp, one by one, and Faith was first. He gave them a stern talking-to, and Faith was so used to being liked, that she cried. He punished her even worse; physically. His claws scarred her underbelly, and those scars are visible to this day, especially an oddly shaped one that looks like teeth marks.

Fog was next, and he returned to the Young-Den with similar cuts and similar amounts of blood. They never asked a question again, for the last phrase that Claw had said to each of them, in his gravelly, merciless voice was, "Do. Not. Ask. Questions."

Winter arrived, and Faith's world was shadowed again. She realized what the Survivors really were. As many grew thin, a ceremony came, the first Moon of Dead-season. Fog was summoned.

He was placed upon a rock, and told to close his eyes, and he obeyed. Faith was ordered not to watch, but she peeked. The strongest Survivor padded resolutely up to Fang, and delivered the fatal blow.

One by one, the weakest cats came to Fog, and began to tear pieces off of his body. By now, Faith was shaking, her eyes streaming with tears. After what seemed like hours, there was only a bony, furry pile where Fog's happy, cheery body was.

Faith was never the same. Her happy-go-lucky attitude diminished, and her protection of Fort increased. They drew together, closer and closer, until the next Dead-season came.

Fort was next. This time, the Strongest Survivor was someone they knew. River. Fort's anguished pleas to his father were pointless; River killed him, ignoring the anguished screams coming from Faith. And River was the first to bite into Fort.

Noone ever told Faith why these ceremonies were practiced, but she didn't care. They were barbaric! The instant that she became old enough to leave, she did, disappearing into the night, tears falling. After that day, she knew that memories of Fort and Fang would haunt her forever. Blood would reign through her dreams. And she was right. Sometimes in the night, she wakes to find herself screaming the name Fort, or in a cold sweat.

She gave herself a new name, one that she had heard on the tongue of a house cat. Gryffin. But that didn't sound good enough; Gryffinwing

She travelled many moons, learning how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive. Finally, she came upon a home- RavineClan. In it, she found a place where she could safely stay secluded in her fear and memories.

That is, until she met Brownpaw and Silverpaw, two toms about the same age as she. She realizd that she was unable to keep herself away from them, that she was making friends. They hunted together, and had fun together, until Silverpaw was called to be medicine cat.

He was busy, then, training; for an entire three days. Then, his mentor, the beloved Watermint, died. Gryffinwing fretted over Silverpaw, and drew close to Brownpaw as well. She was determined to get Silverpaw out of his shell.

After his trip to the moonstone, he returned Silverhawk, a Medicine Cat accepted by StarClan. Gryffinwing rejoiced with the rest of the Clan, no matter how hard it was. She realized slowly that she was falling in love with Brownpaw, and that there was nothing she could do about it.

(She loves him. She loves him so much that her worst nightmare is of the Ceremony; with Brownspot on the Rock.)

One day, just about the time that the foxes started to take over, she fell ill with a bellyache. She couldn't figure out what it was, until Silverhawk figured out, the smart friend he is. She was pregnant; with Brownpaw's kits.

She was so excited! She was going to tell him, right after his warrior ceremony, which was going to come soon, but it never did. The foxes were getting too strong, so they beat a hasty retreat out of their beloved home.

She never had the chance to tell him, for the journey was too hard on her changing body and her aching paws. But he caught on; he was quick. Soon, her pregnancy was full-term, and the kits were born.

They didn't survive the Journey. It was hard on Gryffinwing, the lover of kits, but she lives each day, and drew closer to Brownspot for strength. They leaned on each other and became closer than soul-mates: Brownpaw became Brownspot and they became inseperable. Then they finally became parents. And now she has more to love and more to care for, and her life couldn't be better.

[gryffinwing]

Finito!

[starclan]

accepted as warrior of ravineclan.
her kits will be just over a moon old now.