Post by wolflover1458 on Nov 9, 2009 18:08:13 GMT -5
((Because I don't have enough cats already. 7 1/2 pages on word. History is 5 of those pages. Proves I have way to much time on my hands. Took me a day to finish too.))
Name and previous names: Whistlefalcon (Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, Whistlepaw)
Gender: She-cat
Clan: GaleClan
Ranking: Warrior
Age in moons: 19 moons
Physical description: Whistlefalcon could fit in well in ThornClan, perhaps because of her small size. She looks very much like an apprentice or even a kit, but not to much a warrior. Whistlefalcon can see the advantages to this, like pretending to be a lost apprentice or kit, but Clan cats always seem to think different things than she does. Her paws are relatively big, and she probably trips on herself more than any other GaleClan cat does. Probably should have found a different Clan to join up, one where she might seem more like the actual Clan cats. It’s not likely they would have let her in though, and she does okay in GaleClan, so it’s fine for her right now. She doesn’t have problems with being small, after all. Well, only a few tiny problems she learns to cope with.
“Tiny problems” include doing poorly in most every physical activity. Her stamina, strength, and speed all suffer due to her small size, and her agility suffers because her big paws trip her up. She is also quite skinny, and used to hunger like any Clan cat should be. Whistlefalcon doesn’t always harbor sickness well though, and can often get sick in leafbare, especially when she’s starving. That’s dangerous for her because she’s already weak enough. Her real strength is in short bursts of anger, when she dishes out most of her damage. Mostly, she just doesn’t do any fighting unless there’s a battle going on, or something’s attacking. Whistlefalcon has never play fought with her Clan mates, even when she was an apprentice and would have had a slight advantage with knowing everything already.
Her small body holds quite a clash of colors. Her base color is a mix of orange and brown that is quite bright as well. She has lighter, tan areas around her eyes and mouth and on the bottoms of her paws and on her belly as well. Black stripes are on her face and legs, typical markings. Darker flecks, more brown than orange, appear on her pelt here and there. She has large whiskers and paws, both looking larger in contrast to her size. Whistlefalcon’s eyes are a pale blue color not always seen, but still around.
Her fur isn’t to thick or thin, average rather than anything else. This is definitely useful to her, as it merits neither good nor bad points, just being plain average. Whistlefalcon knows about average, and she quite likes it. Bad things come with good things, but nothing bad has to come with average things, even if nothing good comes either. If bad things cancel out good things, than everything is mediocre anyway, so it might as well start out that way.
Mental description: Your average tiny cat is expected to be shy, cautious, quiet, kind, and gentle, right? If that’s what you think when you think small, you might not want to meet Whistlefalcon. She’s very nearly the opposite of all things stated above. Her physical abilities have not changed, and for the most part she’s bad at every physical activity. Even so, try not to mess with her. For a short summary of her, she’s bold, brave, daring, outspoken, and even ferocious sometimes. Part of it could be her small size. The part of her few cats really understand is her imagination and creativity.
Quick to find the uses of something others might miss, Whistlefalcon can be a large asset to many things if given the chance. Sometimes she is surprised when she thinks of something others don’t, and yet it all comes naturally to her. She is often found lost in thought, immersed in a story of her own creativity. Her main strength is her level of imagination and creativity. This might not seem as amazing as good strength or speed, but Whistlefalcon is used to it and she likes it. Whistlefalcon is the kind of cat that looks for everyway to corss a lake or swamp, and takes the easiest way. This might involve going around it, going through it, or dropping things into it to cross without getting wet, but Whistlefalcon will find it and do it, whatever it might be. Whenever she gets bored, she comes up with a little story in her head, just something random involving her and others she knows. This can give her an odd, glazed look and also a tendency to not hear you the first time. This doesn’t change how she acts though.
Whistlefalcon has always been brave, even recklessly brave when it has to do with things she seriously dislikes. She has no problems letting her opinion known to others. While she might look like a cat that would be easy to control, she isn’t, but that doesn’t stop her from taking advantage of first impressions. Whistlefalcon loves acting like an innocent, scared kit around anyone who doesn’t know her. She would even pretend to be a kit or apprentice because her size fits that. This doesn’t work out should someone give her away, but otherwise she can get away with it until she proves herself different from how she acted.
Daring to her core, Whistlefalcon is willing to try the risks. Though Falcon had tried to discourage all the recklessness, she never gave up on it, and it resurfaced stronger after she left to find the Clans. She’ll run the risk of spying on another Clan, or tracking down a fox if someone asked her too, and she’d do it gladly. She doesn’t think one needs to be experienced or older to do that kind of thing; they just have to be good and want to do it. Maybe she does seem a little strange for it, but it isn’t something she plans on changing anytime soon that might happen to be coming up on her.
Whistlefalcon isn’t scared of a lot of things, and that includes StarClan. The idea of supernatural beings intrigues her, but the fact that they may have a part in controlling her life is less than welcome to her. Whistlefalcon is in control of her own life, and no matter what someone throws at her, she is keeping it that way. She had a strong will to go with everything else, and is always ready to stand firm, even if everyone else should fall down to the things around her. Maybe she can’t rally anyone around her, but she can always stand there alone if no one will be there with her.
Personal history: I was actually born a kittypet, I believe. I can say this with some certainty because I have a vivid memory of a mother and a father, and twolegs. No idea how long I was actually there, and when I started fending for myself, but I know that I was born a kittypet. Memories of my younger life are a bit vague, and I believe I spent most of my time outside, playing with my siblings. That would always be fun. Difficult, though, being the smallest. I always was smaller than everyone else, wasn’t I? Yes, and they could punch me down fast as they please. Always picked on me and pushed me around, but I always stayed around them anyway. I have no idea why I ever put up with that kind of nonsense. Today I never would of. Of course, I was a kit then, so that could always be why, couldn’t it? Don’t ask me what my mother, father, or siblings might have looked like, or how many siblings I had, because I really don’t know. Not everyone can remember that kind of stuff, it isn’t to nice to ask them if they don’t know. Never assume someone knows something, find out first. It’s harder to embarrass yourself that way. Good lesson to know. Anyway, I spent my young life there. Sometimes I even slept outside, which is part of the reason I’m not entirely sure about the kittypet thing.
Okay, I lied a little, I do know how old I was when I ended up leaving my home, I just didn’t know right away. While I’m not entirely sure how I got away from there (and I’m glad I did, that place was terrible when I think back), I believe I might know the gist of it. Envision a few kits playing in grass, with only a few trees around. The larger ones are play fighting while the tiny one, the one that looks only a little bigger than the others did when they were born, is sitting off by the side, watching them. One of them comes at her, and she gets knocked over. Upset a bit more than usual because they keep doing it, the kit goes off to get away from them. She looks into the shiny things that keep them enclosed, seeing all the many holes in them, and thinking about all the things those didn’t keep out or in. There’s a mouse outside, nibbling at seed in the grass. Intrigued, the kit tries to reach at it. The mouse is startled, and looks up. Unable to reach it, the kit tries to squeeze through one of the holes. Finally succeeding, she makes a dash at the mouse, or flees. She follows it further and further until she loses sight of it after a while. Then she looks around and finds herself lost, and unable to get back. As the only one to fit through those holes, no one would be able to come get her. Done envisioning? I think it went something like that, anyway.
As stated above, I chased a mouse and then got lost in the forest outside. As a kit, scent trails weren’t big on my list of things to follow, and I ran too complicated to be able to follow it back anyway. I wandered around lost the rest of the day, and curled up miserably in a little hollow in a tree truck at the end of the day. All I succeeded in doing was getting even more lost than before. No idea how I survived that night, guess I was just lucky. By the next day, I was hungry, and pretty thirsty. I wandered around until I ran into a pond. It was pretty filthy, at least to my standards then when I was used to water ridiculously clear. Still, I was to thirsty to think about it, so I bent down to lap it up, and fell over the way-to-high ledge into the water. I splashed around, squealing the whole time, crying out for help. That isn’t how a kit expects to get a drink, after all. Luck again: I was suddenly yanked up out of the water and placed on the ground, maybe a little to harshly. The cat sat there, looking at me. I didn’t know he would be the most important cat in my life at the moment, or that the only reason he found me was because he was headed that way anyway. It just happened that way, which was good for me.
He asked me what my name was, but all I managed was a high-pitched squeal, out of fear and almost drowning. He found that amusing, and said he would call me Whistle since a squeal isn’t much of a name (No, I have no clue what name I was born to anymore). Then he told me his name was Falcon. Some time after I started living with him, he said his full name was Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, but that was to long to really be a name. I agree, since a long name like that is hardly useful. If you were warning him about danger, by the time you finished his name, trouble would be there already. For that reason, he was Falcon for me, and I was Whistle for him. That doesn’t mean long names can’t be fun or anything, of course, so don’t thinking that.
Falcon took me in and raised me as his own daughter. The first problem was my age. He had taken me to his home, a hollow area in between tree roots, and told me to rest. It was pretty small in there, but I was way smaller. I dozed off, but woke at the smell of vole. Falcon gave me m first taste of wild animal, and I savored it. Afterwards, he took one look at me and asked if I was a moon old or what. I said no, I was sure I was older. Falcon asked me to think through my life to find how old I was. I had no clue, but I went though every day of my life I could remember, and every night I could remember seeing the moon and said what it looked like. A long time later, Falcon said he was pretty sure I was 4 moons old, tiny or not. Whether or not that was correct at the time doesn’t matter to me, I’m going by what Falcon said.
From then on, Falcon started to teach me, and I was eager to learn. Being hungry for the first time since you were born and had only ever know being full really makes one want to learn. He taught me to hunt, to hide, to stalk, to see the near invisible, to hear the hard-to-hear, and to sniff out dull scents. Nearly every wild-living cat learns those skills, but I was the only one to learn from Falcon. He was patient with my many weaknesses, trying to improve them but let me use my strengths as well. Despite my eagerness to learn and his willingness to teach, we had trouble: me. I was to small to have any real speed, stamiina, or strength. I probably should have made up with that in agility, but my big paws for in the way of that. I was bad at fighting because I was small, weak, and clumsy. I was bad at swimming because I was weak. I was bad at sprints and long runs because I was small and weak. I was bad at hunting because I was weak and clumsy. I was bad at… well, you get the idea I’m sure.
At this point you may be asking if I was kidding about the strengths thing. It depends on hoe you look at it really. In the physical world, I was toughing it out to be even mediocre. It’s the rest of the “worlds” like mental and spiritual I really had something in. I’ve always had a great imagination, and I’ve always been good at finding the possibilities of a situation, especially those everyone else manages to overlook. Falcon liked that part of me, and he always encouraged me to keep using it to find the possibilities everywhere. Like any good student, I was pleased to do so, and I did. That’s my main strength right there, imagination and creativity. So many cats lack those two things completely essential to my life. I often found things Falcon overlooked, and it confused me at first. I saw him as everything that was good, with no faults whatsoever. I was wrong, and that’s when I started to find that out. Then I started training myself in those strengths just as much as in my weaknesses.
After a few moons, I had been taught all the basics from my loving mentor. All there was to do was improve on them. Somewhere around that time, I started thinking about what it would be like to have a unique name, one no one else has ever had, like Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon. I never called him that, but it was still Falcon’s name, and it got me thinking. I asked him about his name one night. He said he had been born a loner, and lived with his siblings for a while, but left when he was older, he though around 12 moons. He had named himself, because his old name reminded him of his family who he was leaving behind. He saw a bird moving faster than he would of thought possible, hurtling towards its prey. A feather flew off and landed right next to him, and so he named himself, but decided to go by Falcon. The next day I went off by myself to do a little hunting and think. While I didn’t want to lose the name Whistle, I wanted to have a unique name. I stayed out, then came back with a plump shrew and announced that if Falcon was Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, then I was Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest. Falcon smiled at that and said that if I wanted to be Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, I could be, but he would still be calling me Whistle. That was exactly what I had wanted from him too, which is nice. Those few days after that were some of the days when I was happiest, even if they weren’t the best days.
I was still a runt though. Even after a few moons, I looked like a kit though I had outgrown that stage already. It was something I Had to cope with, but it did cause a few problems. The one thing I really wanted to learn was to fight. I demanded practice whenever we had time and energy for it. I had little rest over the next moon because I wanted to learn. If Falcon was to tired, I would tear up plants or sticks. I found I had the most strength in short bursts of anger. Those went away pretty fast, but it was when I actually fought well. I remember the day we found a strange scent in our little “territory.” A lone cat could be a threat, so Falcon said we were going home and we were staying there when we didn’t need to go out, to hunt, get a drink, or something similar. The scents continued through the next few days. We didn’t see the cat until a while later, when we were both out by the tree that held our den. This cat came out of the shadows, and he smelled just like the scents.
He wasn’t really that big of a cat, but he was to me. Falcon was tall, but he was skinny like me, which probably stunted my growth as well. This cat seemed way healthier than us. Falcon asked him who he was, and the strange didn’t answer but asked why Falcon had a kit with him. That made me mad. I wasn’t a kit! No one says kit to me anymore; I look like a young apprentice to them even though I’m not. That gets me mad, but I prefer that to this. My whole body bristled, and I lunged at this strange cat. Falcon interceded and took the blow he aimed at me. The two of them started fighting, and I was standing there watching. Falcon went down to this other cat, but not before he did his damage too. The flung him aside and stared right at me, breathing heavily. He was bleeding quite a bit, but he had hurt Falcon. That threw me in a rage. Despite my size, I flew at him. The surprise of the stupidity of that action and his injuries kept him from reacting. I knocked him over and bit right into his neck. I think Falcon was yelling at me to stop, but the pounding in my ears made it hard to hear. Tiny me suffocated that stranger right there. First cat I ever killed and all I felt was satisfaction.
Falcon expected remorse out of me for the poor stranger. Once I figured that out, I tried to fell it. I always aimed to be what Falcon wanted me to be. Remorse proved impossible for me, though. Al I felt was the satisfaction of ridding us of that threat. It was right then that something happened between me and Falcon. A gap appeared that I don’t think he ever noticed. I didn’t need to be what he wanted out of me, and sometimes I couldn’t be. That thinking ended up separating us in a hard-to-see way. I acted a little different. I tried to do what he wanted, but it wasn’t the same. After a while, Falcon seemed to all but forget the incident with the stranger. The scents and wounds were gone, and we were to busy for that anyway.
Some higher-up being didn’t seem ready to forget it, or forgive me until I actually felt sorry for it. First it was just little things. At that time I never got the feelings any supernatural being was out to get me. Prey was harder to find than it should have been, and the pond started to dry up when it didn’t rain for a few days. It’s not like it was really anything that affected Falcon or me to much. It wasn’t until the tragedies affecting use for steadily worse I started to suspect anything. We both caught some sickness of sorts, and that made us start starving. Even after, hunting was hard. A downpour filled the bottom of our little den with water and a tree limb fell down that trapped us inside until we managed to push it out of the way. That was about when I decided someone was displeased with my actions earlier and wanted something from me.
I’m not scared of supernatural beings. When I was alone one day, I looked up at the sky since I assume that’s where they are, and dared them to throw their worst at me. I could handle anything anyone wanted to throw at me, and I wasn’t going to change how I felt either. For a little while, nothing horrendous happened. Some of the old things even stopped happening. It might not have been some “other” beings; it could have just been bad luck. When a storm blew in, we stayed inside to avoid it. Falcon told me about how he came from here after a long journey. He left his family far behind. They lived near a place where cats lived in Clans, and took care of each other. Sometimes Falcon had said to his mother he would be a Clan cat one day. Never happened, but not everything can. Falcon said that one day he wished he could go back there. Since he didn’t five me a good reason, I wondered if he missed those Clan cats or something. Falcon said we could go there someday, and he explained his trip to me, in the hopes I could find my way should I ever want to leave him.
I didn’t plan to leave him anytime, anywhere. Someone else seems to do some planning though. Fate and all that stuff just walk along. I don’t want to explain the events that led to it (though it wasn’t my fault if you’re wondering), but Falcon sort of drowned in a river. I got there soon enough to see his body following the current. Someone was clearly out to get me at this point if they hadn’t been before. I looked up at the sky and asked if this was the worst they had to throw at me. It was pretty good, but it wasn’t going to stop me from anything. I don’t need someone else trying to control my life, thank you. I stayed alone for a while, tucked under that tree quite safely, but less than happy. I remembered Falcon saying how he wanted to go to these Clan cats of his. He had even told me the way, just in case. Without Falcon there was nothing keeping me there anymore, so I decided to make a journey.
Falcon must have failed to just distance well, because hat journeying took a long time. I think it was close to a full moon of wandering around, trying to find a place I had never been. While that shouldn’t work out well, I eventually found myself in a place that seemed like what Falcon had described. In fact, there were a lot of scents around here. Silly me, wandering into the territory of other cats. I was looking for them anyway, but it wasn’t a bright thing to do. One of those GaleClan patrols found me. Now that I think back, they must have though I was a lost apprentice or kit from another Clan. I was 10 moons at the time, but I clearly looked way younger to other cats. One of them was a new apprentice, and he was bigger than me. The leader of the patrol, I suppose, asked me what a kit like me was doing out. Not sure if that was meant to be an insult or if he meant it, but I informed him that I was 10 moons and capable of taking care of myself. He asked me what my name was and what I was doing there. I said I was Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, trained by Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, here to seek out the cat Clans.
The looks on their faces suggested they only heard Whistle of the Meadow Lark before I lost them. He asked me to say it again, slower, and I repeated it. They still didn’t seem to get it, so I said they could call me Whistle and the one who had trained me Falcon. That seemed to work, but he asked me what I was doing because I evidently didn’t get it through to them the first two times. Once again, I said I was looking for the Clans. He didn’t seem to get I wasn’t from around here, since that didn’t make much of an impact. After a bit of accusation from them about being on their territory (which was when I figured that out, sadly enough) when I should know to stay off, I pointed out I’ve been traveling for a moon and didn’t know it was their territory. That seemed to get to them, and it was alone with having a weird name. There was silence until I asked what one did to join a Clan. The apprentice said Clan cats were born that way, but the patrol leader smacked him down and said anyone who promised to be loyal to their Clan could be a member of GaleClan.
I believe they wanted me because they needed cats. They probably didn’t think I would amount to much, but I could be useful. I didn’t know their reasoning at the time, but I had reached my goal. Falcon had always wanted to come here, and I had made it for him since he couldn’t. They led me to their camp and had a quick talk with their leader, who came over and asked me to prove myself. That made no sense, but when she lunged at me, I fought back. I failed to impress her doing that since fighting your new leader was wrong in my opinion at the time. They had a little ceremony and said my name was now Whistlepaw. I objected, because my name was Whistle without a ‘paw’ at the end of the name. They said a cat in training, called an apprentice, had ‘paw’ at the end of their name until they became a warrior and got their warrior name. I said I didn’t need training, but they didn’t believe me on that. I got a mentor, Redfeather, and went to sleep in an Apprentices’ Den.
The next few days I learned all about being a Clan cat, not anything about fighting or hunting or anything, though I already knew it all anyway. After learning the code and life of warriors, Redfeather started training me, only it became apparent I knew it all already and the training was useless. Redfeather appealed to the leader, and a few moons after being called Whistlepaw, they named me Whistlefalcon. I objected to that, because at the beginning, I had hoped they would honor Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest as my name. That wasn’t how warrior names worked though, so they wouldn’t do it. I’m sure they called me Whistlefalcon because everyone in the Clan had heard about Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon. I doubt now that anyone was really sure he existed, but my nonstop talk of how Falcon had trained me was rubbing off on them. I wasn’t pleased with the name, because I wasn’t to be just Whistle. It was only later I figured that maybe Falcon was following me around, being a supernatural being like the ones out to get me and all. So, while I would prefer to be Whistle, I’ll be Whistlefalcon for those Clan cats. That way, Falcon can be here too, in a way.
I begin to wonder how long they would want me around if they knew how I felt about Clans. I find them organized with a few to many rules and not enough imagination for new things. I’ve tried the loyalty thing, but it doesn’t always work out. I don’t get how a cat can’t have friends in other Clans, and why they all can’t just get along. Sometimes it seems they live to fight. I wouldn’t say I fit in well, most of the cats are good fighters and I’m too small for that. GaleClan has changed a bit, and I don’t mind. Everything changes at some point, and that’s fine. I’ve always been curious what would happen without all the rules, though. I’ve also never had an apprentice yet, but I’m okay with that. Teaching someone bigger than you seems strange, and I would probably never be Deputy anyway, not being ‘Clan-born’ and such.
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Places role-played in:
Name and previous names: Whistlefalcon (Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, Whistlepaw)
Gender: She-cat
Clan: GaleClan
Ranking: Warrior
Age in moons: 19 moons
Physical description: Whistlefalcon could fit in well in ThornClan, perhaps because of her small size. She looks very much like an apprentice or even a kit, but not to much a warrior. Whistlefalcon can see the advantages to this, like pretending to be a lost apprentice or kit, but Clan cats always seem to think different things than she does. Her paws are relatively big, and she probably trips on herself more than any other GaleClan cat does. Probably should have found a different Clan to join up, one where she might seem more like the actual Clan cats. It’s not likely they would have let her in though, and she does okay in GaleClan, so it’s fine for her right now. She doesn’t have problems with being small, after all. Well, only a few tiny problems she learns to cope with.
“Tiny problems” include doing poorly in most every physical activity. Her stamina, strength, and speed all suffer due to her small size, and her agility suffers because her big paws trip her up. She is also quite skinny, and used to hunger like any Clan cat should be. Whistlefalcon doesn’t always harbor sickness well though, and can often get sick in leafbare, especially when she’s starving. That’s dangerous for her because she’s already weak enough. Her real strength is in short bursts of anger, when she dishes out most of her damage. Mostly, she just doesn’t do any fighting unless there’s a battle going on, or something’s attacking. Whistlefalcon has never play fought with her Clan mates, even when she was an apprentice and would have had a slight advantage with knowing everything already.
Her small body holds quite a clash of colors. Her base color is a mix of orange and brown that is quite bright as well. She has lighter, tan areas around her eyes and mouth and on the bottoms of her paws and on her belly as well. Black stripes are on her face and legs, typical markings. Darker flecks, more brown than orange, appear on her pelt here and there. She has large whiskers and paws, both looking larger in contrast to her size. Whistlefalcon’s eyes are a pale blue color not always seen, but still around.
Her fur isn’t to thick or thin, average rather than anything else. This is definitely useful to her, as it merits neither good nor bad points, just being plain average. Whistlefalcon knows about average, and she quite likes it. Bad things come with good things, but nothing bad has to come with average things, even if nothing good comes either. If bad things cancel out good things, than everything is mediocre anyway, so it might as well start out that way.
Mental description: Your average tiny cat is expected to be shy, cautious, quiet, kind, and gentle, right? If that’s what you think when you think small, you might not want to meet Whistlefalcon. She’s very nearly the opposite of all things stated above. Her physical abilities have not changed, and for the most part she’s bad at every physical activity. Even so, try not to mess with her. For a short summary of her, she’s bold, brave, daring, outspoken, and even ferocious sometimes. Part of it could be her small size. The part of her few cats really understand is her imagination and creativity.
Quick to find the uses of something others might miss, Whistlefalcon can be a large asset to many things if given the chance. Sometimes she is surprised when she thinks of something others don’t, and yet it all comes naturally to her. She is often found lost in thought, immersed in a story of her own creativity. Her main strength is her level of imagination and creativity. This might not seem as amazing as good strength or speed, but Whistlefalcon is used to it and she likes it. Whistlefalcon is the kind of cat that looks for everyway to corss a lake or swamp, and takes the easiest way. This might involve going around it, going through it, or dropping things into it to cross without getting wet, but Whistlefalcon will find it and do it, whatever it might be. Whenever she gets bored, she comes up with a little story in her head, just something random involving her and others she knows. This can give her an odd, glazed look and also a tendency to not hear you the first time. This doesn’t change how she acts though.
Whistlefalcon has always been brave, even recklessly brave when it has to do with things she seriously dislikes. She has no problems letting her opinion known to others. While she might look like a cat that would be easy to control, she isn’t, but that doesn’t stop her from taking advantage of first impressions. Whistlefalcon loves acting like an innocent, scared kit around anyone who doesn’t know her. She would even pretend to be a kit or apprentice because her size fits that. This doesn’t work out should someone give her away, but otherwise she can get away with it until she proves herself different from how she acted.
Daring to her core, Whistlefalcon is willing to try the risks. Though Falcon had tried to discourage all the recklessness, she never gave up on it, and it resurfaced stronger after she left to find the Clans. She’ll run the risk of spying on another Clan, or tracking down a fox if someone asked her too, and she’d do it gladly. She doesn’t think one needs to be experienced or older to do that kind of thing; they just have to be good and want to do it. Maybe she does seem a little strange for it, but it isn’t something she plans on changing anytime soon that might happen to be coming up on her.
Whistlefalcon isn’t scared of a lot of things, and that includes StarClan. The idea of supernatural beings intrigues her, but the fact that they may have a part in controlling her life is less than welcome to her. Whistlefalcon is in control of her own life, and no matter what someone throws at her, she is keeping it that way. She had a strong will to go with everything else, and is always ready to stand firm, even if everyone else should fall down to the things around her. Maybe she can’t rally anyone around her, but she can always stand there alone if no one will be there with her.
Personal history: I was actually born a kittypet, I believe. I can say this with some certainty because I have a vivid memory of a mother and a father, and twolegs. No idea how long I was actually there, and when I started fending for myself, but I know that I was born a kittypet. Memories of my younger life are a bit vague, and I believe I spent most of my time outside, playing with my siblings. That would always be fun. Difficult, though, being the smallest. I always was smaller than everyone else, wasn’t I? Yes, and they could punch me down fast as they please. Always picked on me and pushed me around, but I always stayed around them anyway. I have no idea why I ever put up with that kind of nonsense. Today I never would of. Of course, I was a kit then, so that could always be why, couldn’t it? Don’t ask me what my mother, father, or siblings might have looked like, or how many siblings I had, because I really don’t know. Not everyone can remember that kind of stuff, it isn’t to nice to ask them if they don’t know. Never assume someone knows something, find out first. It’s harder to embarrass yourself that way. Good lesson to know. Anyway, I spent my young life there. Sometimes I even slept outside, which is part of the reason I’m not entirely sure about the kittypet thing.
Okay, I lied a little, I do know how old I was when I ended up leaving my home, I just didn’t know right away. While I’m not entirely sure how I got away from there (and I’m glad I did, that place was terrible when I think back), I believe I might know the gist of it. Envision a few kits playing in grass, with only a few trees around. The larger ones are play fighting while the tiny one, the one that looks only a little bigger than the others did when they were born, is sitting off by the side, watching them. One of them comes at her, and she gets knocked over. Upset a bit more than usual because they keep doing it, the kit goes off to get away from them. She looks into the shiny things that keep them enclosed, seeing all the many holes in them, and thinking about all the things those didn’t keep out or in. There’s a mouse outside, nibbling at seed in the grass. Intrigued, the kit tries to reach at it. The mouse is startled, and looks up. Unable to reach it, the kit tries to squeeze through one of the holes. Finally succeeding, she makes a dash at the mouse, or flees. She follows it further and further until she loses sight of it after a while. Then she looks around and finds herself lost, and unable to get back. As the only one to fit through those holes, no one would be able to come get her. Done envisioning? I think it went something like that, anyway.
As stated above, I chased a mouse and then got lost in the forest outside. As a kit, scent trails weren’t big on my list of things to follow, and I ran too complicated to be able to follow it back anyway. I wandered around lost the rest of the day, and curled up miserably in a little hollow in a tree truck at the end of the day. All I succeeded in doing was getting even more lost than before. No idea how I survived that night, guess I was just lucky. By the next day, I was hungry, and pretty thirsty. I wandered around until I ran into a pond. It was pretty filthy, at least to my standards then when I was used to water ridiculously clear. Still, I was to thirsty to think about it, so I bent down to lap it up, and fell over the way-to-high ledge into the water. I splashed around, squealing the whole time, crying out for help. That isn’t how a kit expects to get a drink, after all. Luck again: I was suddenly yanked up out of the water and placed on the ground, maybe a little to harshly. The cat sat there, looking at me. I didn’t know he would be the most important cat in my life at the moment, or that the only reason he found me was because he was headed that way anyway. It just happened that way, which was good for me.
He asked me what my name was, but all I managed was a high-pitched squeal, out of fear and almost drowning. He found that amusing, and said he would call me Whistle since a squeal isn’t much of a name (No, I have no clue what name I was born to anymore). Then he told me his name was Falcon. Some time after I started living with him, he said his full name was Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, but that was to long to really be a name. I agree, since a long name like that is hardly useful. If you were warning him about danger, by the time you finished his name, trouble would be there already. For that reason, he was Falcon for me, and I was Whistle for him. That doesn’t mean long names can’t be fun or anything, of course, so don’t thinking that.
Falcon took me in and raised me as his own daughter. The first problem was my age. He had taken me to his home, a hollow area in between tree roots, and told me to rest. It was pretty small in there, but I was way smaller. I dozed off, but woke at the smell of vole. Falcon gave me m first taste of wild animal, and I savored it. Afterwards, he took one look at me and asked if I was a moon old or what. I said no, I was sure I was older. Falcon asked me to think through my life to find how old I was. I had no clue, but I went though every day of my life I could remember, and every night I could remember seeing the moon and said what it looked like. A long time later, Falcon said he was pretty sure I was 4 moons old, tiny or not. Whether or not that was correct at the time doesn’t matter to me, I’m going by what Falcon said.
From then on, Falcon started to teach me, and I was eager to learn. Being hungry for the first time since you were born and had only ever know being full really makes one want to learn. He taught me to hunt, to hide, to stalk, to see the near invisible, to hear the hard-to-hear, and to sniff out dull scents. Nearly every wild-living cat learns those skills, but I was the only one to learn from Falcon. He was patient with my many weaknesses, trying to improve them but let me use my strengths as well. Despite my eagerness to learn and his willingness to teach, we had trouble: me. I was to small to have any real speed, stamiina, or strength. I probably should have made up with that in agility, but my big paws for in the way of that. I was bad at fighting because I was small, weak, and clumsy. I was bad at swimming because I was weak. I was bad at sprints and long runs because I was small and weak. I was bad at hunting because I was weak and clumsy. I was bad at… well, you get the idea I’m sure.
At this point you may be asking if I was kidding about the strengths thing. It depends on hoe you look at it really. In the physical world, I was toughing it out to be even mediocre. It’s the rest of the “worlds” like mental and spiritual I really had something in. I’ve always had a great imagination, and I’ve always been good at finding the possibilities of a situation, especially those everyone else manages to overlook. Falcon liked that part of me, and he always encouraged me to keep using it to find the possibilities everywhere. Like any good student, I was pleased to do so, and I did. That’s my main strength right there, imagination and creativity. So many cats lack those two things completely essential to my life. I often found things Falcon overlooked, and it confused me at first. I saw him as everything that was good, with no faults whatsoever. I was wrong, and that’s when I started to find that out. Then I started training myself in those strengths just as much as in my weaknesses.
After a few moons, I had been taught all the basics from my loving mentor. All there was to do was improve on them. Somewhere around that time, I started thinking about what it would be like to have a unique name, one no one else has ever had, like Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon. I never called him that, but it was still Falcon’s name, and it got me thinking. I asked him about his name one night. He said he had been born a loner, and lived with his siblings for a while, but left when he was older, he though around 12 moons. He had named himself, because his old name reminded him of his family who he was leaving behind. He saw a bird moving faster than he would of thought possible, hurtling towards its prey. A feather flew off and landed right next to him, and so he named himself, but decided to go by Falcon. The next day I went off by myself to do a little hunting and think. While I didn’t want to lose the name Whistle, I wanted to have a unique name. I stayed out, then came back with a plump shrew and announced that if Falcon was Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, then I was Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest. Falcon smiled at that and said that if I wanted to be Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, I could be, but he would still be calling me Whistle. That was exactly what I had wanted from him too, which is nice. Those few days after that were some of the days when I was happiest, even if they weren’t the best days.
I was still a runt though. Even after a few moons, I looked like a kit though I had outgrown that stage already. It was something I Had to cope with, but it did cause a few problems. The one thing I really wanted to learn was to fight. I demanded practice whenever we had time and energy for it. I had little rest over the next moon because I wanted to learn. If Falcon was to tired, I would tear up plants or sticks. I found I had the most strength in short bursts of anger. Those went away pretty fast, but it was when I actually fought well. I remember the day we found a strange scent in our little “territory.” A lone cat could be a threat, so Falcon said we were going home and we were staying there when we didn’t need to go out, to hunt, get a drink, or something similar. The scents continued through the next few days. We didn’t see the cat until a while later, when we were both out by the tree that held our den. This cat came out of the shadows, and he smelled just like the scents.
He wasn’t really that big of a cat, but he was to me. Falcon was tall, but he was skinny like me, which probably stunted my growth as well. This cat seemed way healthier than us. Falcon asked him who he was, and the strange didn’t answer but asked why Falcon had a kit with him. That made me mad. I wasn’t a kit! No one says kit to me anymore; I look like a young apprentice to them even though I’m not. That gets me mad, but I prefer that to this. My whole body bristled, and I lunged at this strange cat. Falcon interceded and took the blow he aimed at me. The two of them started fighting, and I was standing there watching. Falcon went down to this other cat, but not before he did his damage too. The flung him aside and stared right at me, breathing heavily. He was bleeding quite a bit, but he had hurt Falcon. That threw me in a rage. Despite my size, I flew at him. The surprise of the stupidity of that action and his injuries kept him from reacting. I knocked him over and bit right into his neck. I think Falcon was yelling at me to stop, but the pounding in my ears made it hard to hear. Tiny me suffocated that stranger right there. First cat I ever killed and all I felt was satisfaction.
Falcon expected remorse out of me for the poor stranger. Once I figured that out, I tried to fell it. I always aimed to be what Falcon wanted me to be. Remorse proved impossible for me, though. Al I felt was the satisfaction of ridding us of that threat. It was right then that something happened between me and Falcon. A gap appeared that I don’t think he ever noticed. I didn’t need to be what he wanted out of me, and sometimes I couldn’t be. That thinking ended up separating us in a hard-to-see way. I acted a little different. I tried to do what he wanted, but it wasn’t the same. After a while, Falcon seemed to all but forget the incident with the stranger. The scents and wounds were gone, and we were to busy for that anyway.
Some higher-up being didn’t seem ready to forget it, or forgive me until I actually felt sorry for it. First it was just little things. At that time I never got the feelings any supernatural being was out to get me. Prey was harder to find than it should have been, and the pond started to dry up when it didn’t rain for a few days. It’s not like it was really anything that affected Falcon or me to much. It wasn’t until the tragedies affecting use for steadily worse I started to suspect anything. We both caught some sickness of sorts, and that made us start starving. Even after, hunting was hard. A downpour filled the bottom of our little den with water and a tree limb fell down that trapped us inside until we managed to push it out of the way. That was about when I decided someone was displeased with my actions earlier and wanted something from me.
I’m not scared of supernatural beings. When I was alone one day, I looked up at the sky since I assume that’s where they are, and dared them to throw their worst at me. I could handle anything anyone wanted to throw at me, and I wasn’t going to change how I felt either. For a little while, nothing horrendous happened. Some of the old things even stopped happening. It might not have been some “other” beings; it could have just been bad luck. When a storm blew in, we stayed inside to avoid it. Falcon told me about how he came from here after a long journey. He left his family far behind. They lived near a place where cats lived in Clans, and took care of each other. Sometimes Falcon had said to his mother he would be a Clan cat one day. Never happened, but not everything can. Falcon said that one day he wished he could go back there. Since he didn’t five me a good reason, I wondered if he missed those Clan cats or something. Falcon said we could go there someday, and he explained his trip to me, in the hopes I could find my way should I ever want to leave him.
I didn’t plan to leave him anytime, anywhere. Someone else seems to do some planning though. Fate and all that stuff just walk along. I don’t want to explain the events that led to it (though it wasn’t my fault if you’re wondering), but Falcon sort of drowned in a river. I got there soon enough to see his body following the current. Someone was clearly out to get me at this point if they hadn’t been before. I looked up at the sky and asked if this was the worst they had to throw at me. It was pretty good, but it wasn’t going to stop me from anything. I don’t need someone else trying to control my life, thank you. I stayed alone for a while, tucked under that tree quite safely, but less than happy. I remembered Falcon saying how he wanted to go to these Clan cats of his. He had even told me the way, just in case. Without Falcon there was nothing keeping me there anymore, so I decided to make a journey.
Falcon must have failed to just distance well, because hat journeying took a long time. I think it was close to a full moon of wandering around, trying to find a place I had never been. While that shouldn’t work out well, I eventually found myself in a place that seemed like what Falcon had described. In fact, there were a lot of scents around here. Silly me, wandering into the territory of other cats. I was looking for them anyway, but it wasn’t a bright thing to do. One of those GaleClan patrols found me. Now that I think back, they must have though I was a lost apprentice or kit from another Clan. I was 10 moons at the time, but I clearly looked way younger to other cats. One of them was a new apprentice, and he was bigger than me. The leader of the patrol, I suppose, asked me what a kit like me was doing out. Not sure if that was meant to be an insult or if he meant it, but I informed him that I was 10 moons and capable of taking care of myself. He asked me what my name was and what I was doing there. I said I was Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, trained by Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, here to seek out the cat Clans.
The looks on their faces suggested they only heard Whistle of the Meadow Lark before I lost them. He asked me to say it again, slower, and I repeated it. They still didn’t seem to get it, so I said they could call me Whistle and the one who had trained me Falcon. That seemed to work, but he asked me what I was doing because I evidently didn’t get it through to them the first two times. Once again, I said I was looking for the Clans. He didn’t seem to get I wasn’t from around here, since that didn’t make much of an impact. After a bit of accusation from them about being on their territory (which was when I figured that out, sadly enough) when I should know to stay off, I pointed out I’ve been traveling for a moon and didn’t know it was their territory. That seemed to get to them, and it was alone with having a weird name. There was silence until I asked what one did to join a Clan. The apprentice said Clan cats were born that way, but the patrol leader smacked him down and said anyone who promised to be loyal to their Clan could be a member of GaleClan.
I believe they wanted me because they needed cats. They probably didn’t think I would amount to much, but I could be useful. I didn’t know their reasoning at the time, but I had reached my goal. Falcon had always wanted to come here, and I had made it for him since he couldn’t. They led me to their camp and had a quick talk with their leader, who came over and asked me to prove myself. That made no sense, but when she lunged at me, I fought back. I failed to impress her doing that since fighting your new leader was wrong in my opinion at the time. They had a little ceremony and said my name was now Whistlepaw. I objected, because my name was Whistle without a ‘paw’ at the end of the name. They said a cat in training, called an apprentice, had ‘paw’ at the end of their name until they became a warrior and got their warrior name. I said I didn’t need training, but they didn’t believe me on that. I got a mentor, Redfeather, and went to sleep in an Apprentices’ Den.
The next few days I learned all about being a Clan cat, not anything about fighting or hunting or anything, though I already knew it all anyway. After learning the code and life of warriors, Redfeather started training me, only it became apparent I knew it all already and the training was useless. Redfeather appealed to the leader, and a few moons after being called Whistlepaw, they named me Whistlefalcon. I objected to that, because at the beginning, I had hoped they would honor Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest as my name. That wasn’t how warrior names worked though, so they wouldn’t do it. I’m sure they called me Whistlefalcon because everyone in the Clan had heard about Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon. I doubt now that anyone was really sure he existed, but my nonstop talk of how Falcon had trained me was rubbing off on them. I wasn’t pleased with the name, because I wasn’t to be just Whistle. It was only later I figured that maybe Falcon was following me around, being a supernatural being like the ones out to get me and all. So, while I would prefer to be Whistle, I’ll be Whistlefalcon for those Clan cats. That way, Falcon can be here too, in a way.
I begin to wonder how long they would want me around if they knew how I felt about Clans. I find them organized with a few to many rules and not enough imagination for new things. I’ve tried the loyalty thing, but it doesn’t always work out. I don’t get how a cat can’t have friends in other Clans, and why they all can’t just get along. Sometimes it seems they live to fight. I wouldn’t say I fit in well, most of the cats are good fighters and I’m too small for that. GaleClan has changed a bit, and I don’t mind. Everything changes at some point, and that’s fine. I’ve always been curious what would happen without all the rules, though. I’ve also never had an apprentice yet, but I’m okay with that. Teaching someone bigger than you seems strange, and I would probably never be Deputy anyway, not being ‘Clan-born’ and such.
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