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Post by trissea on Jul 21, 2008 18:06:53 GMT -5
They Call Me: Morning, for my bright pelt and dove for my gentle disposition.
They know I'm a: She-cat, because of my build.
I've seen: 44 moons, all full of loyalty.
I live in: ThunderClan, don't you know?
Where I am: Warrior, haven't you noticed?
What you see:
Pretty; I tend to come across as a pretty cat, with my pale ginger fur. It might be described as medium-length, and I always keep it quite clean. My stomach, chest, muzzle and legs are white, contrasting with the ginger tabby of the rest of my body. I have a small head with a sharp muzzle, framed by long white whiskers.
Small; To this I would never object- I am a small cat, not much larger than a senior apprentice. My paws are small, as are my ears, so when I was born it was obvious I wouldn't be a large cat.
What you don't see:
Loyal; I would die for my Clan and Clanmates in a heartbeat. This has always been the case with me; I protect each litter of kits as if they are my own. I hate to let down my Clan- when I lose a fight it gets worse every time and drives me to be better than I have ever been.
Intelligent; I may not speak often, but because of this I listen quite a lot. I learn from what I hear and what I see- a twitch of a whisker, a shuffled paw, the smallest blink- they mean much more to me than to other cats. Understanding is based on listening, after all, and I strive to be as understanding as possible.
Suspicious; I have never been fond of the other Clans; often I wonder about them. I don't trust any cat outside of my Clan, and although I am not hostile to them, I won't take anything they say seriously, which sometimes gets me into trouble.
Where I've Been: Morningkit; Ah, kithood... I was a carefree enough kit, and, like most, loved to get into trouble with my siblings, Pebblekit and Cloudkit. We played pranks on the other litters and snuck out of the den a few times, but other than that, we weren't that much of a burden to our mother, due to the fact that she was still greiving for our late father.
Morningpaw; Well, as an apprentice... I was given the mentor Raventail, who taught me to fight and hunt as well as he could (which wasn't very well, to be honest).
Morningdove; Warrior duties are harder than they look... My mentor, Raventail, died of breathing complications three moons ago. Since then I've done my best to fufill my position as a loyal Warrior of WindClan. My brother became the leader of our Clan recently, and I would support him with my life.
Opalgaze, mother, deceased [greencough]
Silverstep, father, deceased [infected wound]
Pebblestar, brother, alive [ThunderClan Leader]
Cloudgaze, sister, alive [ThunderClan Warrior, named after late mother]
Raventail, former mentor, deceased [breathing complications]
Yewstem, best friend, alive [ThunderClan warrior]
sobi.org/photos/Cat/Fethiye/DSC_2434.jpg
This is Me: It was entirely too quiet. There was a rustle in the grasses of the first hill as a pale shape freed itself from the early afternoon rainstorm, retreating into the shadow cast by the hill as she settled between it and another- a small patch of grass and shrubbery shielded, at this time of day, from the harsh rain. Two pale green eyes took in the warrior's surroundings as she surveyed the herb possibilities, standing as still as possible, mouth open to the scents that hung in the thickened air. Rabbit, rabbit, stale fox, rabbit, and then, suddenly, a new scent- mice. Make that two mice, close together. About two badger-lengths from the ginger-furred she-cat's current position, as far as she could scent. Once she had pinpointed them, she began to pad towards them, still pondering the strange silence of midday.
Her whiskers twitched in patience, then, suddenly, the wind changed, bringing a scent towards her that she hadn't noticed before. Towleg! Morningdove stifled an angry hiss. How could I not notice that? And why is a twoleg out here in the rain? Her fur was soaked, making her dark ginger stripes seem even darker, maybe brown. I wish I'd asked Yewstem to come with me, she thought, rueing her decision to go alone at once. She could hear a sharp yowl coming from the twoleg and a sudden crack- it thundered around her, echoing and creating a new smell- smoke, almost, but unnatural. There was a loud scream as another animal fell prey to the towleg- a fox, the once she had scented was stale. The wind had been hiding yet another predator from her scent. She could scent the death as it hung in the air, and she felt the vibrations under her unsheathed claws as the twoleg hurried, stomping, to it's fallen prey.
Morningdove shuddered inwardly, wishing she had at least brought somebody.
OOC- Pah. This is so short for me. >[ summer braindeadedness.
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Post by Roxie ! on Jul 21, 2008 18:56:27 GMT -5
Again, nice bio! I really like you're writing style. Accepted! |
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