#like if a calico had a different color patch of fur but Just on their head

[catmask]

Having a debate with someone

Would or would not, laika and roadboy impulsively dye their if they had the ability

oh they did. thats just canon

rb's hair is not dark blue or black his hair is the same white/light blue as his fur but he dyes it. laika had green hair at one point and if she was a human she would bleach her hair to be the cream color her fur is (she would probably have a darker hair color naturally, more like her ears)

[ladyshinga]

Wait. It's send you a tortie day today?

Hmm. Since this is technically an ask, I suppose I have to ask a question... Is tortoiseshell and white an acceptable addition to pure tortie?

Definitely a tortie! I think the key difference between a tortie and calico (I have not slept well this week and haven't double-checked this) is that a lot of calicos had MORE white fur than most and their other fur colors are usually in bigger separated spots (ie patches of orange or brown) and not all mixed together like a torties. This baby looks like a tortie with just a touch of white and mostly tortie <3

[polyboros]

there once was a stuffed cat who lived happily with the girl who had gotten them for a present. they were a soft calico—colors faded with time, and joints aching with worn seams, but held just as close as when they were new.

one day, the girl's father had to move for his job. the move was sudden, and unexpected, so the family had to rush to pack. in all the chaos, the little stuffed cat was left on the porch, and left behind.

they sat there for what felt like years, as the seasons and weather passed them by. the porch was only so much protection, but they stayed. the stuffed cat didn't know where their family went; the stuffed cat wouldn't even know where to start.

but then they felt a call, from somewhere very far away. the stuffed cat knew that must be where their family went, and so they mustered up all their strength, and made their little cloth-and-stuffing limbs walk.

it was a long walk. people that the stuffed cat didn't recognize occasionally offered them a ride, if they saw them on the side of the road. the stuffed cat had no way to talk, and so they kept stubbornly walking, following the call.

after a long, long time, the stuffed cat arrived in chicago. the call did not tell them where their family's house was—the call stopped telling them much at all. but it told them they belonged here, and they listened.

their little cloth-and-stuffing limbs finally gave out. in their journey, their fur had become unrecognizable, a mottled, dirty brownish cream. there were tears in their fabric, and most of their stuffing had fallen out. the stuffed cat couldn't fix themself. they didn't know what to do, but wait again.

a tall figure appeared in front of them, her eyes kind and curious. “you've come so far to see them again,” she says. the stuffed cat dips their head forward in a nod. “but you're falling apart. you will not be here very long, unless... would you like to help them one last time?”

the stuffed cat nods again. the figure picks them up, hands careful with their damaged limbs, and smiles. “you are from chicago,” she tells them, “and you are loved. those will be enough.”

for a long moment, the stuffed cat cannot see anything past the blinding light of a fire.

and then:

“—replaced by socks maybe!”

the stuffed cat opens their eyes. they are no longer a stuffed cat—they look more like their family, with an outfit like their girl's dad used to wear, in different colors. the jacket, puffy and covered in patches, is new. the call is a quiet thrum in the back of their head.

you will play blaseball, it tells them, discordant yet soft. socks blinks, slow. you will see them again someday.

socks is not sure how to stand, or how to bat. the voices around them are loud, and they can make a voice of their own. it's overwhelming.

but they want to go home. so they'll play.

[alarawriting]

Black Cats

Before the story starts I feel the need to remind people that I am an atheist and I use Christian mythology the way I’d use Greek or Gaelic, ie, as fiction. But, if you’re Christian and you feel that this story reads like a genuine Christian fiction, then great! Mainly I just want to help to protect black cats.

***

In the Garden, there were no black cats.

Back then, before the fall, cats were brown, or grey, or white, or orange, or some combination. Like the dog, the cat had been charged with being a friend to humanity, their job to chase and eat little creeping vermin who might befoul food. Adam and Eve didn’t truly need such an animal; within the Garden, food was plentiful and grew everywhere, and when they wanted to hunt, the dog was there to help them with the chase and then with disposing of the carcass. So the dog stayed by their side, all the time, while the cat remained aloof, coming by occasionally for a pet before running off to their own hunt.

To be aloof, however, does not mean to be wholly uninterested in. There was a calico cat who loved Adam and Eve for petting her, and for being warm – for even though Eden was warm enough that Adam and Eve slept naked under the stars, everyone knows cats prefer even more warmth than that. The calico cat would lie with them when they were sleeping, her furry body warming the human she slept on and taking warmth from them, purring until she fell asleep.

Humans have free will, but God, who sits outside time and knows all, knows what they will do before they have done it. God surely knew the Fall was coming, and that humanity would need the cat.

One day the calico cat tried to catch a serpent for her meal, but failed. And because food was plentiful, the cat didn’t pursue. There were easier targets. The cat, of course, did not know that the serpent was a demon sent to tempt humanity.

After Adam and Eve ate the apple and were driven from Eden, cats and dogs went with them, among them the calico cat and her grey tabby mate. The cat did not show it, for she had her pride, but she was humiliated and ashamed at her failure.  If only she had caught that serpent, her human friends would never have been driven from Paradise.

So she called on God, who in those days was more willing to come when called upon, and said, “I must atone for my failure. God, can you give me the power to hunt demons like the one that tempted my friends?”

“Your job is to hunt the rats and mice that will plague humanity,” God replied. “Now that they have been driven from Eden, they must grow food in the field, and the small vermin I have created will eat that food and despoil it with their droppings. You must chase and devour those small creatures to keep humanity’s food safe.”

“I understand,” the calico cat said. “But I want to do more, and my mate as well. I let the serpent be because I didn’t know what it was. Give me sight to see demons, Lord, and I will hunt them and harry them away from my humans as well. And give it to my mate, so that our kittens can do the same.”

“I will do more than that,” God said, and reached down and touched the cat on her nose. The white fur on the cat darkened to black. Her orange patches remained, but grown through with black fur, they were more like autumn leaves scattered on a bed of earth than a patch of orange flowers cut and laid out on white stone.  The cat’s mate came to see what God was doing, and God transformed him as well, so instead of a grey tabby, he was now all black.

“You are my black cats,” God said. “For demons come from the caves of Hell, where very often it is dark, and they love to come out in the night. You have the power to see those demons for what they are, and you can hunt and kill them and drive them back to Hell. Any cat who is your descendant and has some of your black fur will have the power you do.”

And so for many generations, the black cats harried demons away from humanity the way that all the cats harried the mice and rats and shrews who would eat their grain, and the birds who would steal fruits from bushes on the ground. (What grows on the tops of trees is given by God to birds, as well as to humans, who have a power few animals do: the power to climb trees, and to climb back down. Sometimes, cats, arrogant with their power over the hunt, forget this and climb a tree to chase a bird.  Many of those cats must be rescued by humans. The tops of trees were never given by God to the housecat.)

But Satan saw this and was angry. How could his demons reach humanity and continue to corrupt them and lead them to Hell?

Satan had a plan. What he knew, and what humanity forgot, is that a man who dedicates his life to God is still a man, prone to all of humanity’s temptations… including that of Pride. Men of God, believing themselves without sin because of their power to absolve the sins of others, were vulnerable to the whispers of Satan in their ear, just like any other man. And being proud, arrogant men who expected all to bend to their will… they did not like cats. For a cat has never been a human’s loyal servant, like a dog; cats do the work they choose, in their own time. They help humanity because it is the task God charged them with, not because they wish to please a human master.  The dog sees his human master as God, but the cat has spoken with God, and knows the difference between God and man. Any man.

Men of overweening pride and authority do not like how the cat will not submit to them. It was the easiest thing for Satan to whisper to them, “Black cats serve the devil,” and for them to believe it, without proof. For why would a creature be coal black like a demon from Hell, and yet not be a demon from Hell?

These men were men of God, not hunters, or they would know how the hunter clothes himself in the colors of the deer in order to hunt the deer.  And they were too certain of their own wisdom to consult anyone else.

By their decree, black cats were slaughtered, and other cats as well, and Satan laughed. And then he launched his greatest offensive against humanity since he sent the serpent. He sent demons to carry diseases and put them inside the bodies of rats. Too many cats had been killed; they could neither harry the demons away, nor kill the rats. And thus one third of all the humans who had heard and believed in the word of Jesus Christ died.

Eventually the plague ended, and humanity rebuilt, but there is no way to know how many stories, how many inventions, how many works of art, how many great scientists, how many people who bring kindness to all they touch… how many of them we lost, the people who were never born because their ancestors died of plague, all because men of God too easily trust the voice of Satan, and people with faith in God too easily trust men rather than the voice of God in their own hearts.  All those souls lost, whether in the end they went to Heaven or Hell, are humanity’s loss, and a victory for Satan.

When lies are set among the people by those they trust, those lies never come to an end, no matter how often they’re proven untrue. Even today, there are people who believe they serve God, who serve the devil by harming God’s black cats, believing that the cats are evil, and not that the falsehoods they were told about the cats were.

But the cats remain loyal to the task they accepted from God. Black cats, tortoiseshells, cats with white bibs, cats with white socks… any cat with black in her fur can see demons, and chase them away from your home. All cats protect humanity from vermin, but it was the black cats who were made black by God so they can better stalk demons.

[buckpaws]

Fawnpaw’s Way

(read ch. 1 and allegiances here!)

ch. 2 is done! :D it took a while, but here it is!

words: 8,924

Fawnpaw and friends take a trip to the medicine cats' den, but she gets lost in thought after it all goes less than according to plan.

    Though the sun’s warmth was a comfortable haze over Autumnclan’s camp, Fawnpaw felt cold after watching Fogbright’s outburst towards her apprentice, Plumpaw. The black tom was standing still in place, his green eyes murky as he watched the empty tunnel where his mentor had disappeared. Shadows cast themselves over the four apprentices, who were unwilling to move from their shaded spot to the warmth of the hollow. She resisted the urge to nuzzle his cheek, with his sister, Mistypaw, so close to him already. And he was soon shaking himself out and looking between Mistypaw and the other two apprentices with new optimism. Next to her, Mottlepaw offered no quip, which Fawnpaw found odd.

    “Who does Fogbright think she is?” Mistypaw started up before he could say anything, causing Plumpaw’s tail to fall, clearly hoping to drop the subject. Fueled by moons of training together with Fallenwing and Fogbright every day, the apprentice ranted, “I swear, sometimes she just treats you like a stop to becoming deputy. How miserable!”

    “Let’s just get going, okay? The medicine cats might be getting ready to leave for the 'Cave soon,'' Plumpaw meowed, his words edged with his tenseness. Mistypaw didn’t seem ready to let the issue go, though all she let indicate it was a single whisk of her tail, and thoughtful irritation swimming in her blue eyes. Before anyone could follow Plumpaw’s lead, Fawnpaw felt an emptiness against her flank when Mottlepaw pulled away. Another feeling came - a heavy dropping sensation in her chest that made Fawnpaw’s legs quiver. Her balance was unsteady, and if there wasn’t a wall of rock on her other side, she might have collapsed. Unsure sounds were bubbling up out of Mottlepaw’s throat, and Fawnpaw knew the worst might be coming. White ringed her sister’s dark eyes.

    “No!” The first protest came, “Mapleflower will be mad too! No!” Her yowls rang off the red-rock walls, hardly muffled by the thick soil padding the ground and edges of the gorge. Mistypaw seemed totally taken aback, ears flattened. She backed up, and Plumpaw stood even closer to her, keeping his own pricked toward Mottlepaw. His fur remained flat. Where the gorge’s walls normally felt safe, arching over Autumnclan’s camp in shelter, they now seemed to trap the apprentices in a claustrophobic embrace.

    “Mottlepaw, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Mapleflower won’t be mad at you,” He tried to say in a soft tone, against Mottlepaw’s loud meowing and hissing. She had now backed herself next to Fawnpaw, as she struggled to stand herself. Her gaze swam, Plumpaw and Mistypaw blinking in and out of view as dark and light colored clouds. Mottlepaw’s cries overwhelmed her senses, almost blotting out the shaking pain of the muscles in her legs, threatening to take away her ability to pretend that she was fine. Without a voice, she tried to keep listening in to her sister’s meltdown. It felt as if her heart raged with any attempt she made to move. Starclan, where was her strength when she needed it? In her place, the older apprentices were left to manage Mottlepaw before she began to attract the attention of cats trying to rest after their patrols. At sunhigh, her outburst would be especially noticeable. Fawnpaw’s teeth ached from clenching her jaw. The thought of another aggressive confrontation against her sister made Fawnpaw want to whimper.

    “Shut up! I don’t wanna! I’m not going! No!” Mottlepaw was making shrill sounds after her words now, her normally thick tail now plumy with her frustration and panic. Her breathing was strained, the wet and painful sounds even worse when she raised her voice. Plumpaw pushed forward bravely with a step closer, gaze flitting between Mottlepaw and Fawnpaw. He lowered himself to the ground to seem less of a threat to the tortoiseshell apprentice, but she met his mercy with a nasty spit, leaving him sputtering backwards. His sister quickly stepped in with one paw in front of the black tom. Fawnpaw’s chest fluttered in vain to form words for Mottlepaw’s sake, her effort clawing at the air in her lungs like a butterfly floating just too high to catch. Around her, the air crackled with escalating tension, teetering on the edge of something she would not be able to fix. Mistypaw regarded Mottlepaw with a hard gaze

    “Mottlepaw, stop! Plumpaw just wants to help you!” Mistypaw exclaimed, her pale fur fluffing up to meet the other apprentice’s challenge, and Fawnpaw wanted to interject - she’s just confused! She isn’t like you! But her voice still failed to come, all energy spent keeping her paws upright. Shuffling against the wall of stone, Fawnpaw managed to whip her tail. Her sister needed her. As Fawnpaw expected, Mistypaw’s loud voice only exacerbated Mottlepaw’s protests. It was just as when they had all been kits together, but now, Mudpetal was not hovering closeby to handle her kit with love and seasoned paws. Plumpaw did his best to recover from Mottlepaw’s aggression where he crouched close to the ground.

    “That’s right, Mottlepaw. Aren’t we friends, Mottlepaw?” In response, the tortoiseshell hissed once more, quietly now. After the outburst, Mottlepaw’s body had begun shrinking down into her thick fur. Shades of black, brown and copper fluffed up to protect her from the overstimulating world in front of her, but it still couldn’t cure the distress she felt inside. The force of Fawnpaw’s sympathy hurt her heart, beating rapidly alongside her sister’s. Seizing the opportunity, Plumpaw advanced closer once more, and Mottlepaw let him this time. Once he was within a tail’s length of Mottlepaw, he tried to reach out and touch her paw with his. Mottlepaw did not move away, only staring warily between her sister and denmate. With a deep breath, Fawnpaw finally found her strength and turned her head to give Mottlepaw a reassuring blink.

    “Plumpaw i-is a good friend, isn’t he? He wouldn’t make you do anything scary.” She murmured to her sister, feeling a glimmer of hope when recognition shone back in Mottlepaw’s normally sweet green eyes. Fear and confusion still dominated the apprentice, her flattened ears and fluffed up fur continuing to protect Mottlepaw from the stimulation of everything around her. From her distance away, Mistypaw continued to watch her brother with disbelief. Plumpaw closed the distance from him to Mottlepaw, allowing his black pelt to become a kindly shadow pressing against her streaked fur. 

    “I can’t!” Her voice suddenly rose to a wail once more, and Fawnpaw caught the next cry before it came by slipping her head underneath Mottlepaw’s chin. She comforted her sister with broken purrs, enveloping Mottlepaw in warmth alongside Plumpaw. The steady sound reverberated between the cats huddled together, slowing the tortoiseshell’s rapid heartbeat. Mistypaw’s tail flicked back and forth now, uncomfortable, or maybe unsure, at the sight before her, though Fawnpaw found it difficult to care in her exhausted state. Relief washed over Fawnpaw profoundly as her sister began to calm down. As the quiet extended, so did the lengths of her purring. Minutes passed, giving even Mistypaw the chance to sit down and relax. She drew her paw over her ear in washing, as if trying to allow the other apprentices space. From where they huddled together, the sun was hidden from view behind one rise in the gorge, which left the stone cool and dew glistening on patches of shaded grass. Fawnpaw felt her eyelids grow heavy; Mottlepaw’s intense purring brought her back to being a tiny kit snuggled between her littermates. Plumpaw rested with his head on his paws, his long tail curled over Mottlepaw’s back. When one of the cats finally spoke, it was Mottlepaw in a whisper.

    “I’m sorry for talking like that to you, Plumpaw,” She mumbled into her paws, “I didn’t mean to.” Guilt was undeniable in Mottlepaw’s voice, and Plumpaw lifted his head, touching his nose to her ear.

    “Thanks for apologizing, I know you didn’t mean to. It’s still important to remember that it hurts other cat’s feelings when you raise your voice and get upset,'' He meowed with an assuring yet firm tone, rising on his paws only enough to stretch himself out. “Besides… that’s why Dappleheart is so nice, huh? She can use a cave-voice, even for an apprentice like you, Mottlepaw!” The glow in Plumpaw’s eyes was contagious, and Mottlepaw beamed back with a rumbling mrrow of laughter. Fawnpaw felt her heart soar with admiration. Plumpaw sounded like a mentor already, so wise and patient, when he hadn’t even been made a warrior yet!

    “Daring to call out Mapleflower, brother?” Mistypaw chimed in, and he gave her a fervent nod. The dark tom straightened himself out, his black fur sleek and prominent against the gorge’s curving red walls, even amongst their many shadows. He stood tall in pride for his bravery. Autumnclan’s medicine cat was well-respected, but no cat escaped her short temper and high expectations, least of all her apprentice, Dappleheart. Despite the shocking difference in their size and strength, Dappleheart seemed meek and innocent as a kit next to the compact calico she-cat whose yellow eyes could survey a group of cats with a warrior’s intensity. With any luck, she would be in a good mood when they entered her den.

    “Someone has to,” Plumpaw admitted, “She can be so grumpy, but the four of us can surely take her, right, Mottlepaw?”

    “Yeah!” Mottlepaw rose alongside him, which Fawnpaw used as an opportunity to also scramble to her paws. They ached with weariness, but the exhaustion would be manageable now until she could get to the medicine cats’ den and rest. For the time being, Fawnpaw leaned on Mottlepaw. Through her pelt, Fawnpaw could feel Mottlepaw’s heartbeat growing slower and calmer. In response to her brother, Mistypaw purred once.

    “Do you think you can manage without me? Runningpaw said he wanted to go check out a thrush nest when he got back from patrol. I should wait for him, it could be good hunting for tomorrow.” She meowed, already moving back towards the gorge. Mottlepaw made a disappointed sound at the mention of her older brother, though Fawnpaw jabbed at her sister with her tail. She began to protest, but managed to quiet down with a huff when Fawnpaw mumbled an unrealistic promise into her ear as conciliation.  Plumpaw had also shifted himself in front of the other two she-cats, waving goodbye to Mistypaw with a motion of his tail.

    “We’ll find a way. Tell Runningpaw I said hi.”

    “For sure. See you all later!” Mistypaw called over her shoulder as she trotted away, weaving around small rocks and gravel to find a clear spot of smooth limestone that had been warmed by a patch of sunlight. When she settled, her fur was a nearly-white glow amongst the gorge’s sheer, shaded walls. Shadows of birds overhead flickered across Mistypaw’s pelt, sleek from where she had groomed herself earlier. The grace with which she reclined in the sun and shut her sky colored eyes amazed Fawnpaw.

    She didn’t have time to look long, as her group had moved on without her. Fawnpaw followed quickly, leaving Mistypaw to sun herself until the morning border patrol returned. With Plumpaw in the lead, the trio of apprentices padded away from the sunlit gorge and its dappled warmth, back to the tunnel which led into the camp’s underbelly. However, rather than plunge down as Fogbright and the other warriors had done, Plumpaw traced the solidly packed dirt along the tunnel’s edge in easy strides. It formed a path upwards, gently sloping up to higher ground where the gorge’s walls converged closer, creating a tighter space around the flat stone marking what would be the roof of the cavern below. However, where the forest floor met the edge of the gorge, soil was easy to move and shape; brambles and shrubs wove together as a testament to generations of warriors working to manipulate earth and foliage around them into their camp’s main exit. On her first night as an apprentice, while her littermates enjoyed the excitement of a Gathering, Mudpetal had told Fawnpaw of her own father, Hayjaw, before they retired together to the nursery. He had succumbed to greencough before her litter could open their eyes to meet him. Although her eyes strained against the brightness of silverpelt shining through the woven tangles, Fawnpaw had searched its magnificence for her grandfather amongst the stars. The moon, bright and full, shone back at her as an unblinking eye. Even now, Fawnpaw craned to see the sky through the bramble tunnel, but clouds peered back at her this time.

    A new wind of excitement to get out in the forest made Mottlepaw scamper after Plumpaw without protest, and Fawnpaw followed close behind her sister’s tail. Underneath her paws, the soil sloped up even higher, becoming darker and softer until thick brambles gave way to lush undergrowth. She didn’t have to wriggle to get through the bushes like her cohorts, her small frame slipping easily through a hole Without sunken earth to muffle the winds and sounds above, Fawnpaw felt the entire forest roll over her senses, making her whiskers quiver. Mottlepaw’s dilated eyes flashed excitedly at the trees, teeming with chittering prey in greenleaf. The sea of birch trees framing the sky above created a blue-and-green warmth inside of Fawnpaw, familiar beyond her years, even when she blinked.

    Plumpaw did well to keep his friends on course, guiding Mottlepaw with his tail along the stretch of ground, the leaves and grass there flat from many pawsteps. Briar thickets helped to keep the pathway enclosed and safe from being worn away completely, and the apprentices ducked under their longest branches for a few fox-lengths. When they emerged, the tangle of brambles and bushes gave way to a small knoll sporting viburnum bushes flowering white, and prickly larch trees. Its south-facing side held the den’s entrance. It was a cave of its own, much smaller, and rich with moss and ferns clinging to its stone interior, damp from a steaming underground pool. A thick sheet of dried willow vines secured at the cave’s mouth by stones shielded the tumble of rocks that lead into the den of Autumnclan’s healers. When leaf-fall came again, the withered vines would be replaced by the medicine cats with ones that were freshly fallen. Mottlepaw shimmied her haunches to stalk a stray catkin as it came under her paw, but the older apprentice stopped her with a small cough. The sound pulled Fawnpaw from her thinking.

    “Come on, Mottlepaw,” He said easily, and she trotted after him.

    Once the apprentices had passed underneath the willow vines, the air around them quickly became cool, quiet, and still once more. It always felt exactly how she left in when she moved back into the nursery, save the mess of two busy medicine cats with an apprentice den full of rambunctious cats. Today, though, the herbs were laid in neat piles and fine rows, as if great attention had been paid to them.

    In the further darkness of the cave, Fawnpaw saw a pair of glinting eyes glow back at her. Almost at once, the large, golden she-cat presented herself, dark spots shifting across her pelt as she lowered herself from a stone cleft full of flat pink flower petals. The divot was nearly halfway up the cave wall, its contents hidden to any cat below the medicine cat’s towering height. Fawnpaw admired her powerful frame as she approached the apprentices with an amiable look in her honey sweet eyes.

    “Welcome! I was hoping you’d stop by.” Dappleheart meowed in greeting, giving a friendly blink to the three young cats. The kind tone of Dappleheart did little to calm the guilty feeling that sparked in Fawnpaw’s chest.

    “We tried to get here earlier.” The tabby mewed, beginning to sputter with her lack of excuses. In truth, it was not expected of Fawnpaw to follow her sister at all times, but it made her a little nervous not to know when or whether Mottlepaw had taken care of herself. Considering that Vixenbreze had not been with her, it was likely that her sister had been so helpfully assisting Plumpaw without her mentor’s permission. Even as she grew restless and confused from pain associated with her condition, Mottlepaw popped up around camp to help others, and Fawnpaw loved that about her. She just wished that there was some way to poke around inside her sister’s brain, dislodging whatever froze her up, or pinched her nerves at the thought of eating herbs.

    Tilting her head to one side, she gave Mottlepaw a curious look, but the apprentice was avoiding all eye contact in favor of an invisible bug somewhere between her paws. Plumpaw sat next to her, his tail relaxed, only his eyes appeared to be more focused on the exit of the den than what was happening inside. Dappleheart observed her for a little longer in the quiet, before rising to her great paws.

    “She needs to have thyme before sunhigh,” Dappleheart murmured, more to herself than Fawnpaw, and she padded off quickly. The length of her tail meant a small bit stuck out from the crevice of rocks, and after just a few moments, the tall she-cat emerged fully with a few thick pieces of thyme in her jaws. Dappleheart laid them before Mottlepaw, who reluctantly lapped them up and began to chew after Fawnpaw gave her a reassuring gaze. “This is a calming herb. It’s good for feeling better when you get overwhelmed,” She explained to Mottlepaw in a practiced tone that indicated just how many times she had gone over this with the stubborn tortoiseshell. Fawnpaw still listened intently, always ready for a chance to learn how to help her sister. If something went wrong, or the medicine cats were gone from camp, surely it would fall to Fawnpaw to administer her sister’s necessary herbs. This newest outburst made her realize just how much she would have to train to be ready for that moment. She couldn’t help but feel her ears droop; she had nearly collapsed during Mottlepaw’s fit. If Plumpaw and Mistypaw hadn’t been there, she would have had no way of helping her sister without becoming a problem herself.

    Fawnpaw wanted to shake her head fiercely to clear her ever-churning thoughts. No. They were not problems. If cats were supposed to be perfect, they wouldn’t have to be apprenticed at all. For now, she tried to focus her attention back on Dappleheart, who was now fetching Mottlepaw the rest of her herbs, which she had wrapped neatly in an ivy leaf. Fawnpaw let her short tail rest on Mottlepaw’s flank as she settled down in a resting position and lapped up the deep blue berries before her first. Plumpaw also gave her a friendly bump of his head to hers in encouragement. With some prompting, Mottlepaw also took a couple of light green leaves, each sporting rounded points, into her mouth and eventually swallowed them. Some had still stuck to the cleft in her lip, but she licked the mess away quickly. Dappleheart was patient enough to wait until she had cleaned herself to continue.

    “If Pinekit didn’t need the last of our coltsfoot to get over his kitcough, I’d use that for your breathing. This is feverfew; it’s best for fevers, of course - but I think it does well with thyme for your chest and your headaches, Mottlepaw.” Dappleheart spoke, though she only really directed the words at the pair of sisters. Fawnpaw felt her memory ache at the different herbs. Were the medicine cats so overworked that Dappleheart needed to pass on all this important knowledge to the apprentices? Or did she just know how much the small cat needed to watch out for her innocent sister? Fawnpaw vowed to learn as much as she could, for Mottlepaw and her other littermates, who needed to focus on learning about other aspects of clan life. The elders’ and medicine cats’ dens were already more familiar to her, anyway. She glanced at Plumpaw to see if he was listening, and saw that he was once again looking at the mouth of the cave. The tips of his ears twitched, but not in the direction of the medicine cat’s teaching.

    “They’re so gross…” Mottlepaw whined once she had swallowed the last of the herbs. She had now taken to shredding the ivy leaf wrap. Fawnpaw nudged her flank gently with a paw, drawing her attention back to Dappleheart’s lesson. Obliging, Mottlepaw’s ears faced the tall she-cat once more. Amber eyes blinked gratefully back at Fawnpaw for her help.

    “That’s why we only use them when we have to,” Dappleheart meowed evenly, before adding in a more earnest voice, “And why you need to have them consistently. The more you forget, the more yucky herbs we’ll have to use to treat you, Mottlepaw.” The medicine cat’s honesty made Mottlepaw sheepish, once more staring at her paws instead of making eye contact with the large she-cat. Fawnpaw knew that her sister was aware of how important the herbs were to her health, and moreso, knew better than to skip her daily visit with the medicine cats. Still, the young apprentice often seemed unable to help herself from running away, or becoming upset at her routine. Vixenbreeze did well in the last few moons to teach Mottlepaw to accept that she didn’t get to choose patrols, or when to help the elders. Despite her cool appearance, her sister’s mentor put in a clan’s worth of effort into her apprentice - a labor of love that often went unnoticed by other members of Autumnclan. It was no surprise that her son would have his mother’s compassion, and perhaps his father’s as well, though Fawnpaw couldn’t say.

    “Thanks, Dappleheart…” Mottlepaw mewed, looking up at the medicine cat apprentice for her approval. When Dappleheart leaned down to nuzzle her head with her nose, the tortoiseshell gave a squeal of delight. Dappleheart purred, loud and song-like. The small tabby she-cat’s throat felt tight with her happiness, how the medicine cat still treasured the apprentices which she had saved as kits. Though it was her home no longer, this richly green cave brought the same warmth to her chest as it did when she was an even smaller cat. The cacophony of herb-smell no longer bothered her, either. Dappleheart’s eyes had moved from Mottlepaw to where she sat quietly.

    “How about you, Fawnpaw? Are you feeling okay?” She asked kindly. Fawnpaw nodded, feeling hesitant to mention her fit of weakness around Mottlepaw for fear of upsetting her once more. She also wasn’t very interested in mentioning her weakness around Plumpaw, either. Instead, she searched Dappleheart’s gaze for understanding. Within a few moments, it registered in Dappleheart’s eyes what the young tabby was asking of her without speaking. She purred again, touching Fawnpaw’s own head with her muzzle. Her breath carried a hint of some of the sweet herbs she had worked with earlier that morning.

    “Good… But it can’t hurt to have a little something for your strength,” Dappleheart meowed, returning to the crevice full of berries and herbs. Mottlepaw gave her a horrified look, as if prompting her to protest before she too received the yucky herbs, but Fawnpaw just gave her a playful cuff on the ear. This time, Dappleheart’s jaws were clamped around a few sorrel leaves. For as long as she could remember, the medicine cats had given her the sleek leaves on her worst days to build up her strength and give her any appetite at all. They would settle nice in her belly when she had the chance to pick something up from the fresh-kill pile. Fawnpaw gratefully chewed the green leaves until they lost their shape completely, hoping to wash the ache from her legs. When she was done, she looked up to see Mottlepaw playing with the scraps of ivy leaf once more. At least she wasn’t trying to dig up the ferns and moss that Mapleflower and Dappleheart carefully cultivated in the cave. It had taken a quarter moon for the former to forgive Mottlepaw, which only made administering her herbs that much harder.

    “Thank you, Dappleheart,” Fawnpaw echoed her sister, but her tone was sincere. Dappleheart blinked slowly down at the apprentices, finally sitting before them with her strong white paws neatly together. Even though the cave was dim, with a jagged, sharp peak of a roof that bathed much of the den in heavy darkness, the comfort of Dappleheart’s presence was a constant warmth to Fawnpaw. As a kit, all shadows had seemed darker. Even in the medicine cats’ den, where her every cry was met with Dappleheart’s comforting hush. She loved the verdant space and steaming pool it offered, but when peeking moonlight found its way into the cave, sprouting foxglove and ferns had created flickering, dark ghosts between their fronds. They whispered to each other shadow-y words, and fear nurtured the pain and weakness of her muscle aches. Dappleheart was the one who had nuzzled her during those sleepless nights.

    “Of course,” Dappleheart said cheerily, her pelt the same color as the yellow bells growing in clustered shoots around the cave; flowers which no longer scared her. Sensing the end of her visit, Mottlepaw nearly jumped to her paws. Her fluffy tail was swishing in excitement. She looked to Dappleheart expectantly, and the golden cat dipped her head. “Remember to stop in tomorrow morning, Mottlepaw. I don’t want a single mouse caught until I’ve seen you!” Her meow was as stern as the easy-going she-cat could muster, although her affectionate gaze revealed just how much of an effect the tortoiseshell apprentice had on her. “And thank you, Plumpaw,” She said more quietly to the dark apprentice who had waited so patiently for his younger denmate. He gave her a polite nod.

    “Yeah!” Mottlepaw yowled eagerly, spinning around and bounding up to explode out of the cave’s mouth back into the forest. Willow vines buffeted each other in her wake. Her quiet sister was seemingly forgotten. 

    “I guess that’s my cue. Bye, Fawnpaw,” Plumpaw meowed, leaving with a swish of his tail. She wished that Plumpaw would stay longer, and her gaze trailed after him until his lean form was gone through the vines as well. Dappleheart just shook her head, watching after the bombastic she-cat and quiet tom trotting behind her humorously.

    “She’ll be a great warrior once she learns to slow down a little,” The medicine cat mused. Fawnpaw thought she might agree, but didn’t say it out loud. Without Mottlepaw to distract her, the den felt very quiet. Dappleheart turned her attention back to the remaining apprentice. Her amber eyes flashed with interest, causing Fawnpaw to sit up straight. “By the way, how’s your training with Mudpetal going?” Feeling a little sheepish now that she was on her own, she averted her eyes from Dappleheart. 

    “It’s good. I think I’ve really got the Warrior Code down to memory now,” Running through her typical day, went on, “I always try to make good arrangements for the elders’ den, and get them the best moss, too.” Fawnpaw meowed.

    “That’s good to hear. I’m willing to bet Marblecoat has taught you more about moss than even your mentor, though,” Dappleheart snorted, giving her shoulder a lick. “I get all of his complaints so that Mapleflower won’t ring his tail.”

    “Maybe…” She murmured indulgently, before looking up at Dappleheart with curiosity. “Where is Mapleflower? She hasn’t gone to the Cave without you, has she?” In response, Dappleheart shook her head. The she-cat’s long, spotted tail abruptly twitched, the dark tip shifting like a beetle. Her claws scraped lightly on stone. Fawnpaw wondered what had her so nervous, and recalled her conversation with Mudpetal earlier that day. We’re facing some difficult times.

    “No, she’s out picking horsetail,” While she spoke, Dappleheart indicated the piles Fawnpaw had noticed earlier, and she started to make out  “This would usually be enough for the season…” She murmured. Something about her tone made Fawnpaw think she didn’t want to keep going. Seeing Dappleheart’s confidence falter made Fawnpaw’s heart thud with worry. Seeming to notice the apprentice’s stare beginning to grow panicked, Dappleheart sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, there’s a lot on my mind. We’re lucky to have as many herbs as we do, and Mapleflower will only find more. She should be back any minute now.” Relieved at the return of her warm gaze, Fawnpaw nodded along. The thought of difficult times rested underneath her desire to connect with Dappleheart like a snake in tall grass. If there was any pair of cats that could handle a challenge, it would be Mapleflower and Dappleheart; Fawnpaw tried to reason with herself against her own unease. 

    A quiet bubbling from the steaming pool was all that broke the den’s quiet. Drawing a paw along the edge of her piles, the medicine cat hummed, “Say, it should be your turn to come with us to the Cave one of these moons.”

    That peaked Fawnpaw’s interest, her swivelling ears betraying the fact. “Are you taking Volepaw this time?” Her boisterous brother had to be her first guess. Volepaw had been devastated when the medicine cats chose Brindlepaw last moon. She knew that his constant bragging could be exaggerated, but even still - she thought his catches were quite impressive when he showed them to her on the fresh-kill pile. He would do well to protect the medicine cats. Looking up from the array of fresh and dried leaves she had now moved around, Dappleheart shook her head.

    “Runningpaw was our choice, actually. I think that he’s ready this time around. Not to mention, Yellowbirch can keep up with us, unlike some of our warriors,” Dappleheart puffed out her chest, but seemed to catch herself on some realization, to which she leaned back down to Fawnpaw’s level to nuzzle her cheek. Fawnpaw shrank shyly into herself as her tone went sweet once more. “Well, the Cave of Bones and Moonlight is a very long way away. Most apprentices find it intimidating their first time around, even me. It’ll be easier once you’ve gone to a Gathering at the lake. Let me show you,” She separated some berries, rich and red, and began to place them in a line. The thought briefly crossed her mind that Mistypaw must be disappointed that Runningpaw would have to leave camp before they could go hunting. She would also have to enlist Volepaw or Brindlepaw in getting Mottlepaw to eat before going to sleep if her father was on evening patrol … Fawnpaw blinked to clear her thoughts of responsibilities, and observed the movements of Dappleheart’s paw with fresh intrigue. Two of the berries sat relatively close together, only about a mouse length apart, while the third remained far out of reach. “This is our camp. It’s only a few hillcrests to the Gathering-Place, sure, but we have to go past Acaciaclan’s territory and a few twoleg villages to even get close to the Cave.”

    “Why go all that way if silverpelt is above us no matter where we are?” The thought dawned on Fawnpaw before she could hold it back, her mind’s eye conjuring warriors she saw looking up at the night sky when they thought they were alone. A smile gleamed in Dappleheart’s eyes. 

    “It’s not just about finding a place to talk to Starclan. It’s about seeing the world out there, and seeing it through the eyes of the other clans, too. When we travel, we go under the darkest phase of the moon. We have to trust that we all know the way, even without the moon to show us. There’s no squabbling about borders if you want to have an easy time about it.” Fawnpaw’s eyes widened at the she-cat’s confidence.

    “What if you can’t work together and you get stranded in the dark?” She mewed.

    Dappleheart laughed, “What places your mind goes, Fawnpaw,” A small shade of seriousness tinted her clear amber eyes as she went on, “Disagreement is part of life. It’s completely natural to feel differently than others around you, especially when they’ve lived very different lives. I like to think I’ve learned a lot from the experience of the other clans.”

    “I think that makes sense. I guess Starclan would protect you too, since you’re all medicine cats, right?” Fawnpaw asked, only to be met with a thoughtful look from Dappleheart that suggested she hadn’t answered entirely correctly.

    “Maybe they’re watching out for us, but it’s the cats we choose that really protect us on the journey. We’re safer in numbers, and better for it if we cooperate instead of fight.” Fawnpaw was enthralled, only for Dappleheart to falter suddenly in her passion. Her line of sight was fixed behind Fawnpaw, who turned to see what had stopped her.

    Mapleflower stood at the precipice of the cave, her yellow gaze cold when it landed upon the pair of them. All at once, Fawnpaw went quiet as well. Without greeting them, the medicine cat made her way down into the cave, the clumps of wispy horsetail swaying between her jaws until she dropped them at Dappleheart’s paws. One of her black-tipped ears twitched in annoyance.

    “If Starclan picked Runningpaw, they made a mistake this time,” She said, her strong voice resounding in the cave. “Put these with the rest of our supply. I’m going to have to find a new apprentice to take with me.” Her words were gruff. The echo of difficult times slithered from the tall grass of her mind, baiting Fawnpaw to step within its range to strike. With her brother’s name in the conversation, she felt a cold stone drop in her stomach,  

    “What happened to Runningpaw?” Dappleheart mewed in worry once the horsetail had been placed in one of her piles.

    “Blazingbird said he fell out of a tree,” Mapleflower shook her head. “He’s lucky it wasn’t a break. We can hardly waste the herbs.” The comment made Fawnpaw look away when the medicine cat immediately went to the main herb store and pawed through its contents with a dissatisfied noise. She was clawing into the same place where Dappleheart had retrieved Mottlepaw’s herbs. The thyme she inspected in her upturned pad was dry and nearly falling apart. “I’ll need to get more of this too…”

    “Fawnpaw suggested Volepaw earlier-” Dappleheart tried to offer, only to be cut off by her mentor.

    “We’re not taking Volepaw, he’ll get us killed,” Mapleflower said harshly, whipping towards the brown and white apprentice and dropping the herbs altogether. “What do you know about our journey to the Cave? Has Mudpetal even taken you out of camp yet?” Fawnpaw’s ears went flat to her head at the unpleasant sheen in her scrutiny. Why did she have to bring up her mother in that tone? Her tail wrapped protectively over her paws. She didn’t know if Mapleflower actually wanted a response, so she just stared quietly back up at her. The marking around the medicine cat’s muzzle curled into a smirk for just a moment. Fawnpaw felt an unbearable heat rise to her face.

    “What about Plumpaw, then?” She blurted out. Heat sparked in the yellow eyes bearing her down. Teeth bared, the calico she-cat took in a sharp breath and leaned forward as if she was going to tear into her, reminding Fawnpaw of a great owl spreading its wings. Dappleheart wasted not one more breath before she stepped between them. The large she-cat blocked Fawnpaw’s view of Mapleflower, until she sat back down with her tail resting in front of the apprentice. Her suggestion had been completely on impulse this time around, thoughts of her friend apparently still flickering in her flustered mind. Dappleheart’s pushy interjection took some of the pressure off her. As long as Mapleflower wasn’t staring at her in the way she did, there was still a chance to recover her nerves. Though, the she-cat’s orange and white face wasn’t obscured for long as her apprentice’s posture once again relented to her respected mentor.

    “He’s a great choice! Maybe it is better we take an experienced apprentice this time around.” As quickly as it had come, the fire in Mapleflower’s eyes was gone, and she let out an exasperated sigh. Fawnpaw caught a glimpse of dullness replacing their intensity when she turned away, shouldering past Dappleheart to the herb store. Fawnpaw’s throat felt tight.

    “It’s going to be a long journey,” Was all that Mapleflower offered in reply, before her attention was back on her current task. Speaking without looking at them, the terseness in her voice was authoritative. “Now, unless you have any more helpful suggestions, I’m going to deal with this while we still have some daylight left. Dappleheart, bring that dried thyme and come with me. It’s about time Fawnpaw went back to the nursery.”

    Her words were biting enough to make Fawnpaw stare at the ground, imagining the sheer stones under her paws were pure white and she was in the moon’s territory instead. The surety of her mentor’s command left Dappleheart floundering to mediate the older cat’s callousness. Dappleheart was left instead to awkwardly sit amongst her herbs while Mapleflower got whatever else she needed. With a practiced skill even faster than Fawnpaw had seen before from Dappleheart, Mapleflower plucked several ivy leaves from a shelf along the opposite cave wall, and laid them flat next to her. Each one was swiftly filled identically with leaves that were clustered with tooth-like edges, topped with small yellow and white flowers. Her paws followed an effortless rhythm - folding each leaf into itself twice, and then flipping them over to keep them secure. From behind, Fawnpaw stole a look at the medicine cat, and saw twigs and dead leaves from the undergrowth stuck to her hindquarters and tail; she had come straight from the forest, preoccupied and unthinking to clean herself up.

    When the leaf wraps were ready, Mapleflower emerged with a mouthful of spine-like green stalks, adorned with a dried poppy head which she balanced gingerly between her teeth. She didn’t set them down to say anything else, only looking tiredly at the pair of younger cats before her. The fierce she-cat was only as old as Fawnpaw’s mother, yet seemed so much more weathered when her gaze bore down into the young apprentice. 

    Her message to Dappleheart needed no more words, anyway. When her tail tip disappeared through the curtain of vines, Dappleheart let out a breath. Although the spotted she-cat was polite enough to not run off without her, it was still clear to Fawnpaw that she was being prompted to take her leave. She scooped up the ragged thyme into one of the leaves Mottlepaw had not torn apart, but spoke before she carried the herbs out after her mentor.

    “Remember - all apprentices get their turn!” Dappleheart blinked hopefully back at Fawnpaw as she added, “Think about what we talked about earlier, too. Mapleflower will learn from you, just as you should from her.” Kind in intention as they were, her words didn’t help the way Mapleflower had made Fawnpaw feel. Numbness tingled in her paws as she followed Dappleheart with her tail drooped and dragging along the softly sprouting ferns of the cave. She was always the last one in and out of the den, it seemed. Forest-tinted light engulfed her view, replacing the dim cave, and Dappleheart’s spotted pelt only shone a greater shade of gold. In the sun, the intricacy of her dark markings were striking in contrast to the soft white of her muzzle and paws. One last touch of her tail to Fawnpaw’s flank was her goodbye. All around her, the forest continued chirping and crackling with life and activity, but she still felt it was too quiet without another cat beside her.

    The short trek through the forest back to the cave did little to raise her spirits, even when she passed Marigoldtail and her kits playing out in the sunshine. Rosekit and Pinekit bumped around her paws, spouting their ambitions and teasing each other. She purred at them, but the sight of the good-humored white and orange queen rolling in the grass with her litter made Fawnpaw’s thoughts spiral further. Mapleflower and Marigoldtail looked so much alike with their orange-and-black speckled white pelts; both were her kin. And yet still, she couldn’t please the reserved medicine cat who had also saved her during her delicate kithood. Did she stop caring, or did she never care in the first place? The thought so thoroughly sapped any good mood she had left that she missed a sparrow swooping through the rustling leaves around her and into the grass where she had paused without realizing. Its brown and white little body rustled in its feathers as it ate an unlucky worm with a satisfied toss of its dark brown head back. Frozen, she watched it seemingly gloat, unaware, in its catch.

    For several moments, Fawnpaw watched the sparrow and held her breath. How could she approach it without rustling the leaves and clumps of clover and grass around her paws? Would the bird fit between her tiny paws, or slip through and fly away? For almost half a moon, she had asked Runningpaw to show her his crouch-and-leap, but the time never came around. Now, with the impulsivity of her short talk with Mapleflower fresh in mind, it left her hesitant and timid. And in just the second that she lifted a paw to get closer, it flitted off in a streak of oak and white colored feathers.

    Just as Dappleheart advised, Fawnpaw tried to replace her mishap of a hunt with what they had discussed. Everyone relies on each other, in the clan and as clans together. She traced a different path that wound away from the medicine cat den, feeling the thick forest floor give way to a steep shelf of sandy earth where a riverbed once held a stream. Slipping into it, she kept going without truly feeling her paws. They ached, but that was nothing new. The greater river gurgled along nearby, unaware that one of its ghostly limbs was her way home. Her thoughts and stomach churned with thought like its bulging water. Every link in the clan is important, even if their role seems small or they can’t hunt like other cats. She stuck to the riverbed until it tapered off to a wider dip where both edges met a side of the cave that any cat might miss under the tall weeds and shrubs that had grown there since the water shrunk. 

    Fawnpaw eased herself under the gap in the rock, and found herself once more in the lower half of camp. This was the closest entrance from the forest to the nursery; it was the gentle white smudge along the eastern cave wall, inviting her to follow its sloping cave back to her mother. However, she lingered a little ways away from where she had come, at the shelf that marked the apprentice burrow. On the surface it was only a tunnel inside of an already winding cave, but patches of flowers and muddy pawprints leading inwards made it feel personal, lived in. Even more, she could hear voices, and wondered which apprentices were there. She thought of Runningpaw with his sprained leg wrapped in rush to keep it straight, with Brindlepaw or Mistypaw comforting him with teasing and balls of moss. Plumpaw could already be back at the medicine cats’ den, forcing down travelling herbs for the long journey to the Cave.

    She jolted with realization. If Mapleflower did go with her spur of the moment suggestion, Plumpaw would have to wait for his warrior assessment. He would be across a stretch of land immeasurable to her. Would Applestar go ahead with the assessment and name Mistypaw before her brother even returned with the medicine cats? Guilt ate at her as she stared down at the apprentice’s den. She had to face away, resigning herself to her nest for the rest of the night until her instincts as a sister called to her again. The grit of the cave gave way under her paws to petal-dusted marble. Within a few fox lengths, she shifted left past Marigoldtail’s empty nest, and found the hollowed cove where Mudpetal was weaving a few strands of honeysuckle onto a lengthy bramble. Each sharp thorn held a blossom in its grasp.

    “Welcome back, sweetheart.” Mudpetal crooned when she saw Fawnpaw’s return, her eyes twinkling with love like tansies soaking up greenleaf sun. Fawnpaw’s heart ached with affection, and she touched her nose to her mother’s. While she fielded questions about her day, the static feeling crept back into her periphery; it reminded her of its presence starting with a throb in her hind legs, which only escalated when Mudpetal invited Fawnpaw to weave alongside her. As she stood, one paw buckled suddenly beneath her, causing the bramble to fall over and scatter some unsecured vines. Mudpetal helped her up, and nosed at her thin legs.

    “It’s time to do some stretches, I think.” Her mother meowed, and Fawnpaw obediently stood up once again. She hid the quiver of the one paw stinging by shifting her body away from the tortoiseshell. Mudpetal began to brush the mess of bramble and honeysuckle aside, also clearing bits of fern to make solid room for the pair to train. Their den was a sizable one in the nursery, a deep crater in the marble cave that looked out over a part of the greater structure below - but it still felt cramped to train in at times, most often near the end when she was pushed to her limits. After a short period to recover from the brief shock in her paw, Fawnpaw stood at the ready.

    “Keep your front paws steady, and then pull your left back foot forward.” Mudpetal instructed concisely, reminding Fawnpaw that she was still her mentor just as well as she was her mother. She unsheathed her claws and held to the soft marble as she lifted a back paw off the ground. Without any struggle to keep it there, Fawnpaw’s pale yellow eyes craned at the thick-furred tortoiseshell watching her. “Now, the other one.”

    Fawnpaw nodded and switched paws.

    “Lift it higher and hold it, while crouching on your other paw,” Mudpetal meowed, beginning to lightly test her apprentice’s boundaries. Again, Fawnpaw followed her instructions and bent her opposite knee. Immediately, she felt the strain as her front paws carried the tension of her supporting leg. She waited for her next move, but Mudpetal just waited and watched her. The time stretched on, and in what was only a few minutes, her stance had begun shaking.

    “What about the other one?” She hiccuped in her heavy breathing.

    “We’ll get there, my sweet,” Mudpetal reassured her with one lick to her cheek. She soon sat back a few tail lengths away, with gentle determination in her expression. The pain of supporting herself on one back leg only grew as more minutes passed, and Mudpetal introduced straightening and bending the leg in addition to holding the other up higher and higher. It was a merciful command to switch paws, and Fawnpaw blearily pushed herself to follow it. They continued like that for a while, engaging different parts of her lower body until her mouth fell open in a pant.

    “You’ve improved since you last did that one.” Fawnpaw’s ears shot forward, momentarily dissolving her body’s burning strain as she recognized the voice. Foxburrow’s scent filled the nursery, bringing with it heavy notes of the forest, earthy and sunbaked on his wavy fur. Restraining herself, all Fawnpaw did was raise her tail stock-straight and kinked at the tip of her tail. Mottlepaw would have barreled towards him; the smaller cat wanted to make her father proud of her for staying focused on her training. After all, this was part of it, and she knew it was important, even if her older siblings didn’t have to work so hard to keep their muscles strong. Knowing that her father was also spectating her progress was an extra wind under her wings.

    For a long while longer, Mudpetal continued to coach her through the stretches, until at the conclusion of a particularly grueling exercise of pressing her back propped to the wall and lifting her legs up, she finally gave her apprentice the okay to stop. Promptly, Fawnpaw collapsed on the floor of the den.

    “You get better every day,” Mudpetal murmured into her ear fluff as Fawnpaw sprawled along the floor, enjoying its cool touch on her heated fur. She hardly processed the words in her tiredness, or her father joining and nuzzling the back of her neck, but gave her parents a stuttering purr. She just laid there for a time, shutting her eyes and getting her breath back. Mudpetal’s tongue rasped over her ears.

    At some point, Foxburrow’s dark paw pushed a fat shrew towards her, and her mouth watered. She hadn’t eaten since that morning before her nap.

    “Eat up, Fawnpaw. You’ve earned it.” Her father’s airy meow made her quiver in happiness at the combined praise. She worked at the shrew in small bites at a time, savoring the taste until she couldn’t take it and wolfed down the last few morsels with a lick of her lips. Foxburrow and Mudpetal had settled together, sharing a rabbit.

    “Nobody catches them like you.” Mudpetal purred into her mate’s neck, also swiping her tongue over her jaws. Having finished his half, Foxburrow drew a paw over his prominent white whiskers.

    “I do what I can,” He said confidently.

    “And nobody does what you can,” Mudpetal reiterated with a hum. “You trained Gorsewind well, though. She brings me ones almost as juicy as this.”

    At the mention of his recently named apprentice, Fawnpaw saw her father’s eyes shine with pride and amusement. “You’re definitely right, there. She’s faster with one eye than I ever was at her age, or with two.”

    Mudpetal nodded, “She’s exceptional, even after everything she’s been through. What an awful day when she finally told you…”

    Foxburrow’s eyes briefly averted from his mate, as he seemed to recall the same memory as Mudpetal. “It was bleak,” He admitted, adjusting the moss in her nest. “We’re lucky to have your sister and Dappleheart. I wasn’t giving up, but without their healing, it would have been a steep hill for her.”

    At the mention of the medicine cats, Fawnpaw remained quiet and listening with her eyes shut, and her head resting on her small white paws. Her parents went on like that, reminiscing and talking, until Foxburrow had to slip away to check on his other kits. She hardly noticed when he was gone, as gentle waves of sleep rushed over her like the orange light of the setting sun.

                                                         ***

    When Fawnpaw awoke again, she didn’t know how much time had passed. The space around her was completely dark, and Mudpetal slept beside her, paws twitching in her dreaming. Foxburrow had also returned at some point in, and was a lithe shape entwined with Mudpetal’s large frame. His sleeping head rested on her back, with his large ears poking up as black points rising from his mate’s flank. The gentle snoring of her father in the den could normally lull her back to sleep when he joined them, but tonight that sound nagged at her sensitive ears. 

    No moonlight filtered in through the mouth of the den, leaving her senses unoccupied yet on alert. Her shadowed vision crawling with memories of the day; of Plumpaw’s tail disappearing into the forest, and the way Brindlepaw ducked her head to avoid her younger sisters. Mapleflower’s eyes shimmering like a yellow moon cast their own light in her mind, to a chorus of powerful elders unamused by her presence in their court. Truly, the real moon above held only a bare sliver of light as it faded into its darkest face. It would give the medicine cats of all five clans the cover of darkness that they would need to see silverpelt 

    She pawed at a catkin sticking up from the nest. Her front paws itched with urgency, and yet her hind legs trembled at the thought of going back outside of the nursery. Stretching them for her training session with Mudpetal had drained the last little droplet of strength that she had. Sleep continued to evade her despite her exhaustion. With a small flip, Fawnpaw curled back against Mudpetal, who didn’t stir at her daughter’s tossing and turning.

    There she stayed for what felt like a long time. She wished that the moon was full enough to call her out of the nursery. With its light, she would walk to the edge of camp, feeling strong as it pulled her. Where the edge of the gorge met the forest completely, Fawnpaw would angle her ears to the night birds above. As it was, the nursery was too deep underneath stone to carry the forest sounds to her worried mind.

    Even birds have to sleep, came a small voice in the back of her mind, sweet and unlike her spiraling thoughts. Fawnpaw leaned into the rise and fall of Mudpetal’s flank and closed her eyes, picturing a sparrow sleeping nestled on a softly rustling branch.

[oliveheart-worldbuilding]

im really, really sorry if either of these cats arent genetically possible, but could you please help me figure out what kind of kits this leucistic tom and this she-cat (who i belive counts as a calico tabby) might have?

Hey there, I’m not sure how long this has been sitting in my askbox, I’ve been rather busy trying to adapt to online classes and studying for many exams and worrying about not dying so sorry about that.

Once again I’ll remind anyone that, since these submissions are being sent to me, people are asking for my opinion which is just that, *My* opinion. If the person that sends it does not agree with my opinion or would like to continue with their own ideas, they are welcome to do so. Now, since I follow a somewhat “realistic” approach to my own OCs I will give my opinions on that base, that is, from a genetics-friendly point of view. If anyone would prefer receiving advice from a different approach I recommend asking another blog. I’ll just jump to it:

Okay, I’ll just start by saying that the calico molly’s design does not make a lot of sense. While you are right, it does somewhat look like a tabby calico, there’s a couple of things that don’t really work. You see, red (that is the sex-linked gene that produces orange coloration on cats) is epistatic to nonagouti. What does this mean? Well, it means that red cats, even when they are genetically nonagouti (solid color, only one color with no stripes whatsoever) will still have tabby fur. Solid red cats will have low contrast stripes, sure, but they will still have them. Meaning that this cat having solid red fur is not really possible. Adding to this, since the cat is a tortie, and her “black patches” look reddish, I would say that she is a cinnamon torbie. For her cinnamon patches to be striped (agouti) she would need to have at least one allele for the agouti (tabby) gene and, this gene being dominant for having stripes in contrast to not having them, means the cat is indeed a tabby cat. Because the cat is a tabby, and red is epistatic for nonagouti, this cat should be tabby all over, red and cinnamon patches alike. So, in order to answer this submission from a genetics point of view, I’ll view this cat as a shorthaired cinnamon tortie with medium white, since her markings look classic, I’ll go with that, classic tabby.

Now, the tom. I had to research this because, in all honesty, I had never in my life thought about leucistic cats. I’ve seen leucism and studied it in may animals but never cats, so bear with me. Leucism is what happens when pigment cells (the cells that produce color in pretty much the cat’s whole body) are defective in a way or another (it may be because the pigment cells had problems while differentiating during development or maybe because they had trouble migrating from the neural crest to the skin/fur) which results in the entire surface or patches of the body lacking cells capable of producing pigmentation. Now, in cats, missing pigmentation translates to…a white cat. Therefore, considering how broad the definition is, any form of white or white spotting in a cat can be translated to leucism as long as it doesn’t affect the eye color. The cat that you sent is, well, none of this things. It looks like a cream cat which is just diluted red. Since I’m not sure if you know what leucism or not, I’m going to consider two different possible tom-cats in this case: a longhaired white tom with orange eyes (which will represent the writing part you sent, that is, a leucistic cat) or a longhaired cream classic tabby tom with orange eyes (representing the drawing you sent). In the white case the cat has only one dominant white masking allele to add a bit more of color to his offspring and, underneath the white, he carries the colors you chose for your drawing, that is, diluted red with classic tabby markings.

Now, onto the actual submission, the possible offspring these two cats can have. I’ll consider two possibilities:

(In order to make my job easier I’m just going to consider none of them carry colorpoint. I’ll also consider both are heterozygous to dilution and agouti, and that the molly is heterozygous to short fur too)

shorthaired cinnamon classic tortie with medium white molly and a longhaired white tom masking diluted red with classic tabby markings, the offspring can be:

-Completely white masked mollies and toms (just white cats).

-If not white and tabby, always classic tabby pattern: red tabby toms with or without white spotting, depending on the black-based colors the father carries they can also be black, chocolate or cinnamon tabbies or their diluted variants. Tortie mollies with black, chocolate or cinnamon black-based patches, with or without white spotting (meaning they can be torties or calicos) diluted or non-diluted or entirely red molies diluted or not.

-If solid: black, chocolate or cinnamon toms. Black, chocolate or cinnamon torties or calicos mollies (the black based patches would be solid, the red patches will still show classic tabby markings if a bit faint). (Reminder: the toms can be genetically red solid, they will however still show tabby patterns therefore I’m not adding it as a possibility even if it is because it won’t show up as a solid red.) Both can have white spotting or not.

-All of them can have short or long fur.

-Eye genetics are weird, it varies and is difficult to explain. They can have many colors, just remember that cats can only have blue eyes if they have some sort of white spotting on them and that white masked cats with blue eyes have an up to 80% possibilities of being deaf.

The other possibility (this one reflects on the drawing you sent, not the wording you used) shorthaired cinnamon classic tortie with medium white molly and longhaired cream classic tabby tom with orange eyes:

-All classic tabbies: red toms with or without white spotting, depending on the black-based colors the father carries they can also be black, chocolate or cinnamon or their diluted variants. Tortie mollies with black, chocolate or cinnamon black-based patches, with or without white spotting (meaning they can be torties or calicos) diluted or non-diluted or entirely red molies diluted or not.

-If solid: black, chocolate or cinnamon toms. Black, chocolate or cinnamon torties or calicos mollies (the black based patches would be solid, the red patches will still show classic tabby markings if a bit faint). (Reminder: the toms can be genetically red solid; they will however still show tabby patterns therefore I’m not adding it as a possibility even if it is because it won’t show up as a solid red.) Both can have or not white spotting.

-All of them can have short or long fur.

-Eye genetics is the same as above except there’s no risk of deafness now.

AAAAAnd that’s it. This was very long and time consuming. I hope it’s somewhat readable, I didn’t really have a lot to work with so that only made it more difficult. Thanks for sending this question, I’m sorry it took so long to review and I’m sorry I had to remake the characters to give you an answer I hope it’s OK. Now I’m going to go lay down for a bit.

[stormyblue90]

Patches the Calico Plush

So in response to lovely feedback of my headcanon involving Celebrimbor and a patchwork plush cat. Found here. I decided to write a little ficlet of the scenes mentioned. Enjoy the cuteness!

After what felt like an age, he'd done it. Feanor had finally crafted a suitable gift for his grandson Tyelperinquar. It was but a simple, snow white cat plush he spent weeks researching and learning how to make. Finally it was complete and to his satisfaction. The toy had to be perfect, like all his other creations, but able to withstand all that a toddler could throw at it.

He modeled it after the family cat he had as a child, one he named after his mother due to its silvery white fur. He'd let little Tyelpe decide on this ones name later.

Curufin held his tiny newborn son in his arms, sitting by the window. Tyelpe's soft black curls on his head shining in the warm sunlight. It was clear he'd take after his father and grandfather with raven black hair. He snuggled closer to his father's chest as Curufin gently stroked his hair, already fairly thick for a newborn.

A knock at the door captured his attention, his wife answering and letting their guest in. Curufin smiled as his father made his way over to him, hiding something behind his back.

"What brings you to visit us Atar?" Curufin asked.

"I have a present for little Tyelpe. I would have presented it on the day of his birth, but it took longer than expected to make. It was not something I was accustomed to."

"Is that so? Branching out to new creations are we?"

"Just for this little one. Nerdanel and few others helped."

Before Curufin could ask was he needed his mother's help with, Feanor presented the gift. The plush cat was soft, well stitched, and as big as the newborn himself.

"May I?" Feanor asked, gesturing to hold his grandson.

"Of course." Curufin delicately placed his son in his father's arms who brought the toy close to Tyelpe.

The newborn instinctively grabbed at what was placed near his tiny hands. Feeling that it was soft and smelled of grandfather, Tyelpe snuggled into the soft, plush fabric.

Curufin smiled, "I believe he likes it."

Feanor returned the smile, "Good, I made it just for him." Gently his kissed his grandson's head as he yawned, clearly ready for a nap.

                       *                                    *                                          *

"ATAR!" screamed a distressed toddler. Tyelpe ran down the hall looking for his father. Finally he found him with his mother, about to prepare dinner.

Curufin hearing his son's distress turned, expecting to see him hurt with another scrapped knee or elbow. Instead he saw Tyelpe, eyes full of tears, sniffling and holding up his plush cat. 

"M-m-my cat got hurt!" he whimpered, "REALLY BAD this time!"

Curufin looked as he saw on the plush cat's head a big opening, cotton leaking out of it. It was bigger than the usual tears that were a simple fix. This time it looked as if it needed a patch.

Curufin bent down, comforting his distraught son.

"Shhh shhh, it's ok my son. We'll make sure they're all better."

Tyelpe sniffed and whimpered, hoping his favorite toy would be ok.

"Uncle Moryo can fix that up right away." He turned to his wife. "I'll be back shortly, I'm gonna take our son's cat to my br-er, the healer's to get patched up." Afterwards he left for his brother Caranthir's house.

That night Curufin came back and entered his son's bedroom, his mother trying to tuck him in for bed. Tyelpe however refused to go to bed, not until he had his cat.

"Tyelpe," Curufin called. "I have someone for you."

Tyelpe looked up, eyes hopeful.

Curufin then presented his plush cat, now mended and with a little blue silk bow around the neck as a collar.

His son gasped and reached out for his toy, happy the cat was ok. Curufin handed it to him, but something was different about it besides the bow.

Tyelpe looked quizzically at the black patch where the tear had been, then back to his father.

"Moryo said he didn't have any more of the white fabric that was used, but we agreed he could use a different color to make it more special." he told Tyelpe.

Tyelpe looked back down to his cat, then hugged it tightly to his little chest.

"It's ok!" He said, "I'll call her....Patches now!"

Both his parents smiled and lightly chuckled.

"Alright little one," his mother said, "you and Patches better get some sleep."

"Ok!" he replied as he nestled into his warm bed, cuddling Patches. "I love you! Good night!"

"We love you too. Goodnight Tyelpe." His father replied, both parents giving their son a goodnight kiss on the head before leaving.

                            *                            *                               *

Several decades had passed, young Celebrimbor's childhood was ending. It seemed innocence had been lost after all the death and destruction of recent events. The Kinslaying, leaving his home for a foreign land, the death of his grandfather, and now seeing his uncle bedridden and bandaged. 

It pained him to see Maedhros in such a state. He always knew his uncle to be strong, fierce, and protective. Now he saw a weakened, scarred, and nearly crippled elf before him. Celebrimbor hated seeing him that way. It was wrong. He hated how distant his uncle felt, how he struggled to move when he needed to get out of bed, how he often screamed himself awake at night, or how he glared at the stump where his right hand had been. This was not the uncle he knew and loved, and it broke his heart. They had already lost his grandfather and great grandfather, he didn't want to lose his uncle too.

Celebrimbor sat in his room, even though he was old enough to attend any meetings his father and uncles held, he never cared much for them. Not now. Not when they were all the same topic. How to retrieve the Silmarils, to defeat Morgoth, where they should go. He didn't want to think of any more hardships and destruction. So he sat alone in his room, holding Patches. 

Despite long since outgrowing the need for such toys, the cat always brought him a sense of comfort and relief. Now, he seemed to need such comfort more than ever. Over the course his childhood, Patches naturally attained more wear and tear, more patches. What was once a pristine, snow white cat, now became a calico. Celebrimbor liked it even better that way. Despite the damage it went though, it was still well loved.

It was then an idea struck him. A childish, maybe foolish idea, but he didn't care. He wanted to do something for his recovering uncle, but didn't know what he could do, until now. Celebrimbor set out to search for some scissors, thread, and a needle so he could go forth with his task.

Maedhros stood in front of the window to his room, tired of laying in bed. He hadn't bothered to eat the food left for him, he had no appetite and had gotten so used to feeling of hunger whilst in captivity, he payed little attention to it. A soft knock caught his attention, he sighed and turned, expecting one of his brothers or Fingon to be at the door, acting like a mother hen to him.

"Come in." He said. However when he saw who walked in the door, he was a bit surprised. "Tyelpe?"

"Hi Uncle. Uhm, I wanted to give you something." Celebrimbor replied, a bit sheepish.

"What is it?" Maedhros asked, gesturing to bed as he sat down.

Celebrimbor walked over and sat next to his uncle. He then held out Patches, now with a missing right paw.

Maedhros looked at the plush, confused.

"I don't understand."

"I want you...to have Patches." Celebrimbor answered. "I know you get nightmares at night. I can hear your screams."

Maedhros looked away, guilt in his eyes at the thought he was disturbing his young nephew.

"I don't know if it might help, probably not. But when I was little and had bad dreams, I always hugged Patches close, and I felt better. I didn't have nightmares after that." Celebrimbor continued. "I also see how you glare at yourself in the mirror, how you hate that you lost your hand, your dominant hand too. But that doesn't mean you're broken!" Celebrimbor held up the cat for emphasis.

"Patches went through a lot of stuff too, a lot of tears. But she was never broken, and I loved her just the same. Now, she's missing a paw, just like you're missing a hand. But it doesn't mean she's broken. Also...this is all we have left of Grandfather. He made it. I think you should have something he made since we don't have anything else."

Maedhros gave a soft smile, the first in weeks, to his nephew before taking the plush cat. His nephew was still young, still had some childish innocence left in him, even that simple wisdom children could sometimes have. He saw Celebrimbor was only trying to help

"You're right." he replied. "It's also a little bit of home. Thank you Tyelpe."

Celebrimbor smiled, happy this small, seemingly insignificant gesture gave some joy to his Uncle.

                             *                            *                            *

It was nearing the end of the First Age, two more Kinslayings had occurred, this time leaving only two of the original seven sons of Feanor alive. Maedhros and Maglor now trying to move on in their lives, attempted to forsake the Oath, even if only for a short time.

With them, a pair of twins, victims of the last Kinslaying were with them. Elrond and Elros they were named. At first they had it in their minds to use them as ransom to retrieve the Silmarils, but this thought quickly vanished from their minds. In an attempt to find some hope of redemption, or even try to take responsibility for their actions, Maglor suggested they raise the twins.

Maedhros remembered the Second Kinslaying, how followers of his brother Celegorm cruelly left a pair of twins, the uncles of the two currently in their care, to die. He did not want to repeat his failure at trying to save them. He agreed with Maglor to raise them, if only to help ease some guilt and give a small amount of light in the darkness that had become their lives.

A storm had awoken the twins one night, and they cried out in fear. Maedhros and Maglor immediately ran for their room, the former grabbing a dagger, prepared for a fight.

When they found the twins were safe in bed, merely frightened by the violent storm, they relaxed. Maedhros sheathing the dagger at his belt while Maglor sat next to the pair, humming soft soothing melodies, and assuring them they were alright. Maedhros sat on the other side, going through the motions of comforting children. He was used to this as he came from a very large family, was the oldest of seven, and even helped raise Celebrimbor. At the thought of his nephew, an idea struck him

"Wait here little ones, I have something that may help you sleep tonight. She always helped me when I was too scared to sleep." he assured them.

Maedhros walked out of the room, towards his own. Maglor smiled, knowing what his brother was going to bring them.

Moments later Maedhros returned, carrying something in his arm. Elrond and Elros looked up, the latter clutching his blanket to his chin.

"I want you to meet Patches." Maedhros said, offering the old patchwork calico plush Celebrimbor had given him so long ago.

Elros lowered his blanket, and with his brother reached out for the cat. "Patches?" they repeated.

"Yes," replied Maedhros. "She's a very special friend and member of our family. She likes to help young elflings go to sleep when they're scared."

Little Elrond held up the cat, marveling at the colorful patches. "She's missing a paw! Just like you." he exclaimed. 

Maedhros nodded, "That's right, and just like me, she'll help keep you little ones safe."

The twins smiled and hugged the plush in between themselves and snuggling under the blankets. Maglor began to softly hum a gentle lullaby, one he sang often for his brothers and cousins growing up. Moments later the twins drifted off the sleep. Once again, the patchwork calico had been passed down to those who needed it.

                              *                             *                              *

A new age had dawned, the Fourth Age, the Age of Men, and the elves of Middle Earth made the great voyage to the Undying Lands. Many were eager to reunite with lost loved ones from ancient battles passed. By now many slain elves of the First, Second, and early Third ages had been re-embodied, leaving the Halls of Mandos to find their friends and family.

Elrond had been joyful to see his beloved wife again. She still bared the scars of her attack by orcs, both in body and heart, but Elrond no longer feared for her life. Celebrian too was joyful to see her husband again, although she felt bittersweet at the fact her only daughter chose to stay and live a mortal life. Nonetheless the two were happy to find each other.

After a few weeks of getting used to land of Valinor, a realm Elrond had only read stories and history about, he set out to find a specific elf, one he'd hoped had been reborn.

He made his way to a large forge, near the home of Nerdanel. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the elf working there. Celebrimbor had been released from the Halls.

"It is wonderful to see you again Cousin." Elrond spoke, gaining the other's attention.

Celebrimbor looked up. "Elrond? I can't believe it! The last I saw of you you were helping build an elven city."

"Imladris, yes. It served its purpose well throughout the Third Age. I only wish you could have seen it. However I do have something for you."

"Oh? What would that be?" Celebrimbor asked.

"An ancient family heirloom of sorts. It is only fitting it be returned."

Celebrimbor's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The only family heirloom he could think of were the Silmarils, but that was impossible. His confusion faded when he saw Elrond bring out an old, but very familiar plush cat. Patches.

"I-is that?"

"Patches?" Elrond answered. "Yes, yes it is. This little cat was given to me by your Uncle Maedhros. In turn I passed it down to all three of my children. It has soothed many a restless night for my family. As I have no grandchildren that I will be able to visit, I see it only fitting to return this to the original owner."

Elrond handed the plush to Celebrimbor, who gingerly took it in his hands. He was amazed to see it had survived all these ages. It was very well loved, even sporting a few new patches as well. 

A tear came to his eye. "Thank you." he said. "This means a lot to me."

A small piece of Celebrimbor's childhood and innocence survived. Something crafted by his grandfather out of pure love and devotion survived, untainted. A piece of his family was returned to him. Perhaps if he had children himself he'd pass it on to them. Truly Patches had become a family heirloom. The one that truly mattered, for it was full of love and beautiful, even sad, memories of days gone by. The journey of Patches the calico plush, had come full circle at last.

[slowgo123]

Persona 5 Familiar AU

@ren-amamiyaa (hope you don’t mind me tagging you since you were interrested in the AU)

This will be just a more in detail post from the AU I brought up.

This AU was created and developed by me and my friend @oracle-nila. 

More under the “read more” because this is long because I don’t know when to stop

The basic idea behind it is that each of the PT’s persona have an animal form they use in the real world to follow around their user, look after them, give them advice or be a be a nuisance if they want to be.

Each of the persona’s can only be understood by persona users, normal people will only hear animal sounds. Each persona has the general needs of the animal they are and not taking proper care of them can affect fighting inside the Metaverse, meaning that each Phantom Thief has to properly research of how to take care of their respective animal. Depending on animal and personality they are varying degrees of hard to keep alive, they can get sick and even “die”.

Death is not that permanent for Persona. A Persona dying in the real world means that they will be unable to be used for a short while and be weaker than normal until growing back to full strenght. During this time the user of the respective Persona will also be affected, they suffer from a lack of energy and will be pretty tired, their Persona dying will also cause an emotional imbalance. (Using persona uses SP more often then not which is pretty much “mental energy” or at least it’s referred to such in pq  so I think it makes sense for their death to affect their user mentally)

Now I’ll just go into detail about each persona for a bit:                                           Also hope no one is bothered my unrealistic desings and hhhh art abwfk also tumblr sucks and likes to resize images so rip me

Arsene:

Arsene is a Raven (not a crow as some heathens from shujin would like to make you believe) I mostly made him one because of Arsene’s majestic wings (also fun fact: a group of ravens is called an unkindness or a conspiracy)

Arsene stays around Ren 24/7 having a habit if sitting on him (I mean Ren’s hair is basically a nest awnflfw) which confuses some students at Shujin and does bother some of the teachers (though I can’t recommend trying to throw a piece of chalk at him)

He is smaller than the average raven making it easy to mistake him for a crow

He also has the habit of stealing things from students at Shujin (he steals a lot of different things, mostly food, but he has stolen a wallet before)

He’s also a pretty good spy if need be

It isn’t suprising to see Mona or Loki get annoyed with him (he does get along with Carmen tho so not the entire cat squat wants him dead awfbkbw)

Zorro:

[ He’s a small bug and I didn’t have the energy to make a desing for him so there’s nothing here]

Zorro is a mosquito. Why you ask? because he reminded me of a mosquito when I first saw him and was 100% convinced he looked like one. (and because it’s funny)

He is the most fragile of all of the Persona (even if he says otherwise) this is used to tease him most of the time

Zorro is a male mosquito so he doesn’t drink any blood, though that doesn’t mean that that everyone isn’t going to be worried if he were to complain about hunger

Stays in Mona’s fur most of the time for safety reasons

Kidd:

Kidd is dog, more specifically a border collie. The border collie is a dog breed originating from the scottish border, we thought it’d fit more than some other dog breeds because: scottish breed - scottish pirate

Both eyes work fine, but he has the eye patch because pirate aesthetic

also has a scar on his right hind leg but my idiot butt didn’t reallly make any kind of ref for how the scar looks and didn’t really draw it in the only drawing I have of him

Carmen:

Carmen is a calico cat and also extremely fluffy

She’s a little taller than Mona

She often comes to school with Ann and charms people into giving her food (she’s quite talented at it)

She uses her close connection to Ann to her advantage when she can by manipulating Morgana or making small deals with him (that almost always end up with her not actually holding up her end of the deal)

Goemon:

Goemon is a ferret and possibly the least realistic and most colorful desing of all of them

[haha he hasn’t actuallly gotten that much development]

Johanna:

[also hasn’t gotten a proper desing/drawing made yet]

Johanna is a swan

HONK HONK

one of the least convinient persona to care for since Makoto not only has to explain to Sae why a swan keeps following her around at some point, but also is way too big or heavy to be carried via bag (though the latter thing could also be said about all of the other bigger/heavier persona)

Makoto can usually be found around the park because of her persona

Makoto is team mom and I’m 100% convinced Johanna is team mom for all of the persona

Necronomicon:

Neccie is a bat (the desing was based of a brown bat specifically)

They’re nobinary and I’d give my life for them

Futaba and Neccie have both terrible sleep schedules due to both staying up when they should be sleeping (being the only nocturnal one of the group is hard)

They try to make Futaba go to bed at more resonable times, but often get too invested in whatever Futaba is doing at the time

They also like cuddling (which is good with Futaba’s tendency to manhandle animals)

has a tendecy to swear when angry

Milady:

Milady is a fox, looks cute but can be still quite dangerous (her desing is mostly based of a red fox)

[she also hasn’t gotten much development, sadly]

Robin Hood:

[doesn’t have a desing yet]

Robin is a golden retriever (golden retriever RH ftw)

He is trying his best to help Akechi (he has gotten both gotten the nickname of “Akechi’s self control” and “what’s left of Akechi’s moral compass” by me)

He actually likes to cuddle

Robin is also larger than the average golden retriever

Robin and Loki can bud heads from time to time, but they can still get along

Robin urges and tries to get Loki to interact with the other Persona whenever he can

has a habit of picking up Loki by the neck when needed

He also follows Akechi during bike rides (being a dog means that he needs proper daily exercise)

Loki:

Loki is cat, he’s a lot bigger than the average cat and is a short hair. (and also gets second place in least realistic desing) 

I like describe the relationship between Loki, Robin and Akechi as: Loki gets Akechi in trouble and Robin tries to get him out if it

He has the habit of pushing stuff of tables, annoy Akechi and in general be the asshole cat he was meant to be.

He likes to play the tsundere game strong

He avoids social interaction most of the time

He can be a bit chaotic and mischievous, you know, trickster god and all

He has the highest death count of all of the persona (suprising seeing how one of them is a mosquito)

Welp, now with the basic info about the persona and how the entire familiar thing works I might aswell go a little more into detail about scenarios and story and other shenanigans.

Akechi in this AU is found out way more quickly, at least the multiple persona and that he has a persona part, making him join the party earlier than in canon.

He is pretty much the first person they got to when they have questions on the whole persona thing since he had to deal with Loki and Robin for quite a while now. For example, if a persona were to get sick and they don’t know if it’d be better they can ask Akechi about or maybe even ask questions about how the whole “death” thing works. (how helpful he actually is can depend on the question and situation awnfljf)

Further on the topic of Akechi, he doesn’t get as strong of an effect if one of his persona then rest of the PT (because he only has one dead and the other is still alive), but if somehow both die he will barely be alive, because the effect is way stronger than the any of the PT would have. His brain would be short circuiting while the extreme exhaustion would make him almost pass out the entire time. (and let’s not forget that Robin and Loki are pretty much his only proper emotional support that he can genuinly talk to)

Btw, the first time Loki died was a shitshow, because that was during Akechi being really lonely and still young having no idea they could just “come back”. 

The general story wouldn’t actually change that much give or take a few death and persona related shenanigans, even with Akechi getting to be part of the PT earlier and getting to know all of them better than in canon.

The interrigation room pretty much plays out exactly like canon with Robin being a good amount of disappointed that it had to end like this.

Later on while Loki is off on his own when Akechi, Robin and him where somewhere near the Diet building he notices the PT being a lot more active than they should be and aproaches then, realizing that Ren is actually alive, he makes sure to try and dissuade them from continueing doing what they’re doing, which ends up with Loki killing Arsene and then just legging it, trying to weaken their leader before getting the news what’s going on to Akechi asap.

Akechi is super worried at how bloody Loki is and it takes a moment to click what Loki is telling him. Akechi enters Shido’s palace and the traitor fight happens a bit earlier in the palace than in canon, meaning that they aren’t in that cursed boiler room. Cognitive Akechi shows and instead of any kind of sacrifices being made the PT just beats the shit out of it. (also I like to think that Ren can still use persona even with Arsene having freshly died, just that attacks take a lot more energy and he has to struggle with the effects)

From then on Akechi join the PT again and the awkward, tense road to redemption is now opened to him (with Loki having to apologize for killing Arsene)

Also might I also say that through my endless need to insert Shuake into everything I make, just imagine their persona trying to be their respective wingman/men, Robin would have good intentions, but I’m mostly conviced that if anything Loki would just use knowing about the crush to be a little shit.

PS: thing that that nila noticed was that Arsene was a raven and that’s really similiar to a crow and I’m sure there’s something you connect with crow and Loki a cat and there’s a certain character people often compare to a cat.

Alright, I don’t know what to add currently so I think this is it for now until I decide to maybe edit it incase I make some more proper desings and/or this AU gets more developed [edit 1] fixed problem 

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

you are an honest to god angel. for taking so much time and energy and potentially money away from yourself for feral cats.. I'm seriously close to tears. thank you so much for being who you are and for caring like you do. ive only just come across you, but you inspire me. please continue to be the tightest fucking person. I hope you never stop being you. thank you so so much. may you be blessed with the fortunes you so graciously hand out. 💖

Wow, thank you so much for that! 💜 I just do whatever feels right, I’ve always had a penchant for helping little critters, even if I don’t keep them as pets. Animals who need a little help always seem to gravitate towards me, whether it’s cats, dogs, birds, lizards, turtles... I can’t help myself, I always have to make sure they’re alright. 

I’ve been a cat person specifically for as long as I can remember, and cats are the one that I have the most reference books on.

My Mom ordered some new cat combs and brushes online that are better suited for their fur type and will be able to pick the bugs out of them easier, but they won’t be here for a couple of days. In the meantime, I keep checking on them periodically, and they seem to have moved in on our porch, and have been here since Sunday. 

Mama Cat seems to not mind us being close to the babies, so she seems to trust that we won’t hurt them.

They’re all really adorable. There’s two calicos, a harlequin marked one (that matches the same patterns as his mother) and a patched tabby, and they all have different eye colors. 

We’d bring them indoors, but my cat (a 16 year old torbie I’ve had since she was 6 weeks old) has a sensitive respiratory system and is remarkably allergic to dense furred cats (it’s the dander), as well as she absolutely hates nearly all other lifeforms in existence (except people and our dog specifically).

Thankfully, the weather is good here right now, and we already had sheltered zones for cats around here, so this is a perfect place for a mama cat with a litter to stick around for a place to rest, eat and get a drink. The local colony is a very sweet bunch of cats to begin with, with the likes of Mr. Maurice (an old patched red tabby with a squint and a stub tail, he’s the old guy that is great with kittens), Clarence (a lean red tabby who never fails to greet us when we step out the door)... we just have a lovely bunch that don’t cause problems and always show up at feeding times, and may pop up around the yard during the day at random times. 

I post about them from time to time, they’re always fantastic, and have been such a joy to have around. They’ve all been really accepting of Mama Cat and the babies, with no quarrels or hissing, so we must have given them all a safe environment where they don’t feel the need to fight for the food. 

I’ll be probably adding more pictures over time. As long as this little family of five sticks around, we can keep an eye on them. 

[autistic-council-spectre]

yoooo yo i had an idea™

okay so like it's always been kinda ???? to me when you have a character in the ES series and like they become a vampire. and then they're pale as fuck when they're like a khajiit. i mean i like the sudden difference but it's still always been ?????? hhow tho they're furries they're covered in fur PETA is protesting them wearing fur

human and mer sorta make sense because like your skins gonna lose some of it's pallor and you're gonna look unhealthy bc you ain't got no blood in ya fuck damn body doing all it's various blood Things

argonians i am unsure about because i have 0 idea of like how scales and crap work id assume theyd be off color bc again, they ain't got no blood, but idk like specifics and if thatd be where there's more squish less scale or what

anyways with khajiit: i was watching a warrior cats vid on youtube and the person brought up the fact that apparently cats can have vitiligo which basically like fucks up your skin pigment and it's more visible on darker skinned ppl, you can see it on ppl like me who are literally so pale i glow in the sunlight but it's harder

so that's also what happens with some animals except it fucks up pigments in the fur and makes white blotches, i would assume it's also on the skin tho bc animal skin=their fur color so if you got a calico cat surprise! their skin is also calico

and i was thinking like, oh hey maybe a similar thing happens when you're a vampire? not exactly the same bc vitiligo does it in patches and also im not entirely sure of the science of "why the fuck it does this and also. how pigment is like. made"

so this led into "oh hey humans lose hair, cats shed so like. khajiit gotta shed right?" so maybe after awhile the body is like "HEY FUCKER WHERE'S MY BLOOD WHERES MY NUTRITION WHERE'S MY THINGS TO MAKE OTHER THINGS" and it starts a rebellion as bodies like to do

so they start shedding and here and there the pigment slowly just kinda. fades

until eventually all of the pigment is basically gone/hella lighter

ofc this is mostly me rambling rn so like! idk. idk how skin and stuff works so it's subject to change but for now i have a vague beginning of the hc on "why the fuck my khajiit Did That™"

[maximumsuckage]

Green

Word Count: 2416

Summary: A girl goes to a witch for help.

Ao3 Link

The address was scrawled onto the back of an old gas station receipt. The paper was worn to softness, creased a thousand and one times, but the address was still clear enough to make out and type into a GPS. And that was exactly what Alex Ward had done, though now, as she pulled up to the curb, she was starting to wonder if this was the wisest decision.

The house was low and squat, slowly condensing in on itself like an elderly spine.  Vines curled up the walls, twisted across the roof, tangled on the chain-link fence that surrounded the overgrown lawn.  A cat was sleeping on the sagging porch, a raggedy animal of calico fur.  Windows were curtained, and the cracks between the fabric were dark.  Broken appliances and abandoned cars littered the front lawn, each tangled with plants. A couple of sparrows were nesting in an old tire.  

When Alex stepped out of the car, it was into a smell of mustiness and green plant-life.  One of the birds made a loud warning shriek at her, but she had no desire to steal their chicks, so she ignored it and stepped over to the gate, reaching out.  

She half expected the metal to shock her, but it was only sun-warm when she closed her fingers around the latch.  Taking a deep breath, she pushed the gate open, wincing at the screeching of ancient, rusted hinges.  If the owner of the house didn’t know that she was there before, they knew now.

The cat lifted its head, blinking lazily in her direction.  Alex gave it a polite smile, then stepped onto the cracked sidewalk, careful not to step on any plants.  She wasn’t sure how witches worked; she hadn’t believed in witches up until a little bit ago, but now she was worried that if even one blade of grass was crushed under her foot, a curse would befall her.

And Alex had already been cursed enough.  

Gritting her teeth at the thought, she continued forward, careful with her steps, nodding politely at the cat each time it tilted its head at her.  Meeting a witch would be easy.  Alex had survived med school interviews; she could survive a simple meeting with a magic lady.  

The porch steps creaked under her foot, and she winced, worried that the ancient, softening planks wouldn’t hold her weight.

But the steps held, and she stepped up onto the porch. The smell was stronger here, of old wood and summer plants and something a bit sharper underneath.  It tingled in her nostrils and made her press her hand to her face, breathing deeply to suppress a sneeze.  Magic, maybe?  The part of her that had spent the last four years in pre-med biology told her that it was nothing more than an unfamiliar herb, but in light of recent events, she wondered.  

The cat mewed at her.  Alex hesitated, then reached down to brush her fingers over its ears. “Good cat,” she murmured, when it half sat up to press its face into her hand.  She gave it a scritch under the chin, then stepped to the front door, where dark glass hid whatever lay beyond.  

Her palms were sweating, and she rubbed them on her pants, cursing herself.  This was not awkward, she reminded herself.  This was how witches worked, right?  People just came up to their doors in the stories.  There wasn’t a way to text or call ahead and make an appointment, like there was with normal people.

Alex took a deep breath, then knocked before she could lose her nerve.  

For a moment that was simultaneously breathtakingly relieving and heartstoppingly terrifying, there was no response.  Then, from deep inside, a voice called, “Come in, dearie.”

Alex’s breath hitched, and then she took another deep breath.  Like it sensed her fear, the calico padded over and rubbed against her leg.  She drew strength from the little animal, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans (should she have dressed more formally?) and pushed the door open.  

Inside, the halls were dark and humid, but the air was rich and fresh as a forest.  In the patches of light thrown by windows with translucent curtains were as many pots of soil as could fit, each one overflowing with green leaves and colorful flowers.  Their tendrils wandered through the dark, and Alex was careful not to step on any as she stepped deeper into the house.  The humidity didn’t help her sweating palms.  

“This way, child,” came the voice again, clearer this time.  It was the crackling voice of an elderly woman, and though it was calm, with no trace of the malevolent witches in the stories Alex had grown up with, it did nothing to calm her nerves.  

“You got this,” she breathed to herself.  “You did med school interviews, girl.  You got this.”

“Stop muttering to yourself and come back here. My old legs don’t want to carry me out there to you.”  The witch’s voice was louder this time, colored by just a trace of annoyance.  

Alex quickened her pace and walked deeper into the house, past a few dark doorways, into the back room.  The deeper she walked, the heavier the air became, and Alex wondered how anybody could live here, without ventilation, where moisture practically leaked from the walls.  

The back room, in contrast, was so bright that Alex was blinded for a second.  When her eyes adjusted, it took her a moment to understand what she was looking at, to see past the myriad of colors and smells and sounds that barraged her senses.  

It was a greenhouse- the back and ceiling had been knocked down and replaced with glass, and the plants that draped over every available space threw off green leaves and bright flowers and a hundred different scents of a hundred species that Alex had never seen outside of National Geographic.  In one corner was a massive fish tank (or perhaps simply massive for the space), and the gold and silver scales of koi flashed in the water. A pump hummed, and tubes snaked from that tank, branching and twisting across the floorboards to connect with the roots of every plant.  And then the water was collected again, the drainage pooling in reused gutters to return to the tank in a room-wide, homemade hydroponics system.

It took Alex a moment to find the witch in the chaos of the tangled flora, but there she was, sitting in a cushy, if damp, armchair, watching Alex stare at the room.  Her face was gnarled and her hands were twisted with arthritis, but there was still a sharp glint of intelligence in her faded eyes.  

“Do you like it?” she asked, raising one knotty hand. “I used to travel the world, teaching English to children or building houses or selling spells.  I just wanted to bring a little of the globe’s beauty back here.”

Alex nodded.  “It’s beautiful,” she agreed politely, stepping forward.  “So… um…”

The witch pressed her knuckles together. “Child.  Calm down.  I won’t bite. Take a seat.”

There wasn’t a chair, so awkwardly, Alex sat on the floor, careful not to crush any vines.  

“Now, you’re a young person, so I know you haven’t come to listen to my stories.”  The witch clicked her tongue, and the cat darted past Alex to hop up into her lap, purring contently.  “You’re all moving so quickly nowadays.  What do you want, then?”

Alex closed her eyes, taking a breath.  “I was told,” she said slowly, “that I should come to you if I needed help with a demon.”

“A demon?”  The witch’s hands started to stroke the purring cat, gnarled fingers brushing through the color-patched fur.  “Now, what business would a pretty young thing like you have with a demon? You should have gone to a priest, not to an old bat like me-”

“No, no, no.”  Alex shook her head, and then realized with a shock that she’d interrupted a witch.  She paused, and when she wasn’t immediately turned into a frog, she continued.  “I need to find a demon.  Not exorcise one.”

“Oh.”  The witch peered at her.  “Now, why would you want to find a demon?  Did you sell your soul to one?  No matter how many times you try to convince people that it’s not worth it…”  She shook her head and tsked her tongue.

“Not that I haven’t thought about it,” Alex muttered, “but college loans aren’t my biggest problem right now.”  She let out a choked laugh, then covered her mouth, shocked by the broken sound.  “Never thought I’d say college loans weren’t my biggest problem.”

The witch considered her for a long moment.  “Would you like some tea?”

“No, no thanks.”  Alex shook her head, but the witch had already clicked her tongue at the cat.  

The cat stood, stretched so long that its spine quivered, and then hopped off her lap, vanishing elsewhere into the house.  

“Now, dearie, how about you start at the beginning? Why are you looking for this demon?”

Alex licked her lips.  “Um… I’m sorry, what’s your name?  They didn’t tell me your name.”

“My name doesn’t matter,” the witch said.  “Not if you are here for my help.  Now, tell me your story.”

“So…” Alex took a breath, unnerved.  What kind of person wouldn’t give a name, even a fake one, for the sake of conversation? A witch, it appeared.  “Um… so, my house has been haunted, like, all my life. And… I mean, I never really believed it. You never really believe it, do you? This whole, magic, paranormal thing.” She waved a hand vaguely.  “I mean, no offence or anything, but…”

Her awkward introduction was interrupted by the clinking of glassware.  Alex found herself looking into the vivid green eyes of a slender girl, hair patched in red and brown and white.  The girl was silent as she knelt down to set a steaming mug next to Alex, and then she padded, barefoot, back to the chair and laid down at the witch’s feet, curling up and closing her eyes.  

Alex, wide eyed, look from the girl to the witch, but the witch didn’t seem to notice anything odd about it.  “Now, dearie, tell me your story from the beginning. You don’t need to worry about looking insane.  On the chance that this is all a figment of your overactive imagination, who would I tell? I’m but a little old woman.”

Behind her, the koi splashed in their tank. Alex picked up the tea and took a polite sip.  She didn’t particularly like tea; coffee was her poison of choice, especially in latte form, but the hot liquid served to clear her mind.  “So, yeah.  There was a ghost in my house, growing up.  I never saw it, so I assumed I was making things up.  It’s an old house.  You know how they are, with the creaking and the random noises and the lights flickering every once and a while.”

The witch nodded at her to continue.  Alex took another sip of the tea- it was green tea, but there were a few other bitter flavors mingling within it that she didn’t recognize.  “So, nobody believed me, so eventually I stopped talking about it, and I kind of convinced myself it was just a story I made up when I was a little kid.  I could just say everything had a reasonable explanation, you know?”

“But what brings you here today?” the witch asked. The girl at her feet looked up at Alex, green eyes blinking slowly.  

Alex took another deep breath, rubbing her hands on her pants again.  Though the warm mug was calming, it did nothing for her sweaty palms.   “I didn’t make it up.  The ghost was real.  But it wasn’t a ghost.  It was a demon, and it took my baby brother.  So, I’m coming to you for advice on how to trap-”

Her voice caught in her throat, but it wasn’t emotion- no, when she came to the direct reason for her visit, she felt more determined than ever.  Rather, her throat seemed to close up.  She tried to draw breath, but no air came.  She gasped, setting the mug down politely as she ducked her head.  She must have choked on the tea, maybe was having an allergic reaction to a mysterious plant?  She’d never had a reaction before-

Her hand on her neck was cold, and she gasped as she looked at it, watched the skin between her fingers grow even as the bones narrowed.  The color changed, shimmering from lightly tanned into bright gold, even as the witch seemed to grow.

Alex lost her balance, pitching forward to hit the ground, her arms too short to catch her as she gasped.  Her skin felt cold and wet, her clothes were too big and tangled around her like a net, and she couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t find the air.

The witch smiled, and nudged the cat-girl with her toe. She got up, and Alex felt an irrational fear as a hand reached towards her- when had the girl gotten so big?

And then a hand closed around her, and her vision was warped wide, and she could see the entire room at once except for the area right in front of her face, and her head spun-

She splashed as the girl let her go in the tank.  Cool water flooded across her gills, and she could breathe again, gasping as she sank slowly to the bottom of the tank.  Other fish bumped her, but she didn’t know how to move, could only flop, heavy and clumsy-

The witch laughed.  Alex could see through the glass of the tank, but the only sound that reached her was deep and muffled.  

Really, Alex should have expected this, coming for help from a witch.  She let herself go limp, and found her body floating to the top of the tank, like a dead feeder fish in Walmart.  And, as the other koi bumped her with their fat golden bodies, she couldn’t even scream.

Her brother was in danger, and she was trapped in a fish tank.  

Outside the glass, the girl had turned back into a cat. The witch was scritching it under the chin, just as Alex had when she’d first arrived at the witch’s house.  

Traiter, she thought, as hard as she could, but the cat didn’t respond.  

@gracebabcockwrites

[cryptidclaw]

The other three apprentices from my Clan Gen! If this was an actual book I think that these 3 would be the main character trio! They all have different and interesting perspectives of the clan and I think seeing how each of them grow would be really interesting!

I've been trying to post clan gen designs everyday but college has started back up and I had a busy weekend so it took me a few days to finish drawing these three T-T

also I had to look up what a pseudo tabby is and all I found was a rare mutation where a tabby is blue with red stripes so that's what I went with for Fennel, I have no clue if that's what this description meant tho lol

Image ID below v

[Image 1 ID: Screenshot from the Clan Generator website which reads “HAWTHORNCLAN; The Demonic and Unstable”./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: A digital drawing of Nightpaw over a black background. He is sitting with his back legs slightly raised and he has a stern, aloof expression on his face. He is a slender black tom with long fur and orange eyes with red linkng the tops of them. his fur fluffs up around the upper parts of his legs, and the rest of his legs are more slender and are a darker shade of black. He has a red scar on the right side of his lip, and a larger one on his lower back. Above him to his right is a screenshot of his description from the clan gennorator which says, “NIGHTPAW- a long haired, black tom, with amber eyes.” below this is written in white hand writing “-Mother & Mentor: Spiderstar; -father was the previous leader; -Spider killed his dad and became leader shortly after Night became an apprentice; - Spider is training him to be her perfect successor’ -partly knows the truth about Spider’s tyranny and her “disappearing” cats but he has been taught to think this is okay; -very aloof personality”. below him the writing is continued and it says “-doesn't know how to talk to other cats; only knows how to give and follow orders”. /End ID]

[Image 3 ID: A digital drawing of two cats, Hornetpaw on the left and Fennelpaw on the right, over a black background. Hornetpaw is standing in a mid turn pose. her head is lowered to the ground and her front paws are unsheathed, she has a scowl on her face and she is looking toward the ground. She is a green eyed, skinny, long spikey furred creamy white molly with yellow and grey calico patches which take the form of jagged alternating stripes on the upper part of her face and continuing down her back and tail. On Hornetpaw’s upper left is a screenshot of her description from the clan generator which says “HORNETPAW- a mostly white, blue and cream ticked tabby calico she cat, with long fur and hazel eyes”. Fennelpaw is on Hornetpaw’s right, sitting crouched low to the ground in a defensive pose, he has a worried/scared expression on his face and he has his ears back. He is a green eyed, short furred classic tabby, his base coat is a blue grey color while his stripes are a rusty red, he also has a white muzzle, paws, chest and tail tip. On Fennelpaw’s upper right is a screenshot of his description from the clan generator which says “FENNELPAW- a red classic “pseudo-tabby” tom, with short fur and green eyes”. Above both cats is written in white hand writing “-Father: Shadowwhisker; -Mother “disappeared” soon after they became apprentices and they were told she abandoned them and the clan; -are bullied a lot by Tansy & Dacepaw bec. they have a “traitor” mother; “Shadow is barely a father to them & just tells them not to be disappointments like their mom”. Below Hornetpaw is written “-Mentor: Swanheart; -Believes her mom is a traitor, but is actually in deep deep denial about the truth; -very upset that Swanheart is her mentor bec. quote, “having a deputy for a mentor should be a honor! but EVERYONE knows he’s weak!”; -desperate to prove herself”. Below Fennelpaw s written “Mentor: Rainclaw; -despite what he has been told he believes his mother was killed; -scaredy cat & terrified of all the cats in the clan; -least scared of Swanheart and wishes he was his mentor instead”./End ID]

[deadmomjokes]

Cats: Breeds vs Color Patterns Bonus--That is NOT a Calico

If there’s something I learned from working at the animal shelter, it’s that a lot of people who know cats actually know very little about their classification. While it ultimately doesn’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things, if your cat is missing, a proper description makes all the difference in trying to get your baby home.

Plus learning about cats is fun, so let’s go over some of the most common misconceptions I ran into: What a tabby really is, what a calico really is, aka the infamous “Black White and Brown Male Calico,” and what Tortoiseshell actually means.

Color Pattern Vs Breed--Tabby

There are lots of cat breeds out there, some more distinct than others. You can probably think of a few: Persian, Sphinx, Oriental Shorthair, Siamese, Tabby--

Only “tabby” is not a breed at all! Tabby is a color pattern. Note I didn’t say a specific color, but a color pattern. It’s stripes of a darker color on a lighter version of that same color. Generally, you get orange, grey, or brown tabby. Here are examples of the three, respectively.

Tabby is the most common color pattern of cat, and can have many variations. Sometimes the stripes look more like spots, sometimes they look more like a big cinnamon roll on the side, but it’s always bands of a color over a lighter background of that same color. With brown and gray tabbies it can often appear that the stripes are black, but they are always technically a darker brown or grey. This is because of how color is stored and inherited on the chromosomes (always the X chromosome), which becomes a bigger deal when talking about calico, so for now just trust me that it’s important to know that it’s stripes of the same color, not black. Tabby can also present with white patches, and can occur in fur of any length.

While gray and brown tabby present with about equal numbers male/female, it is interesting to note that solid orange tabby (no white) most often presents in males, about 80% of the time. So should you find a solid orange tabby cat, it’s probably male, but don’t bet on it completely. Orange tabby with white, however, are about equal male/female ratio. This again is due to how color is inherited.

Tabby can be a pattern in any breed, but generally speaking most cat breeds are a solid color or have very specific patterning. Tabby, therefore, is sometimes considered ‘common’ in the sense of a sign of being a sign of lack of pedigree, but this isn’t necessarily the case. Abyssinians, Ocicats, American Bobtails, American Curls, Munchkins, and quite a few other breeds often have tabby as a breed standard color pattern. Still, it is always hard to tell if your cat is one of these breeds, so most of the time what you want to say is that your cat is a Domestic Longhair, Mediumhair, or Shorthair. These are the classifications that animal control and shelters use, unless the cat is a very obvious breed like Persian, Sphinx, Curl, etc. In any case, "Tabby” is not a breed!

Color Pattern vs. Breed--Calico; What Calico Really Means

You’ve probably already guessed that, just like tabby isn’t a breed, calico isn’t, either. You’re right! Calico is another example of color patterning, and this one is really interesting in terms of genetics. But we’ll get into that in a minute. First, what is a calico?

Calico is a patchy coloration consisting of white, orange, and some other color like brown or black. Here are a few types of calico:

(That last cat, if you’ll notice, is white, orange, and brown tabby. This is sometimes referred to as Tabbyco, tho that isn’t official.)

There can be a lot of variation in the number of patches, the dominant color, the pattern of the patches, and the third color, but calico is defined by the presence of orange, some other distinct color, and white. This is really important because of those tricky inheritance genetics I mentioned.

You recall me saying that color is stored and inherited on the X chromosome? It’s a bit more complicated than that. Non-white color is carried on the X, those non-white colors being Black and Orange. All other colors are variations of these two, hence why stripes on a brown or grey tabby sometimes appear black. A male cat gets one X from his mom, meaning his color will always take after his mom’s. A female gets a chance at either her mom’s or her dad’s, or a combination of the two. White color and patterns (like tabby) are not X linked, hence why you can have a male orange tabby with white bib or feet.

How does this apply to calicos? Well, in order to express both orange and some other color (except for white), you absolutely must have two X chromosomes--one carrying orange and one carrying the other color, most often pure black. (Incidentally this is why you rarely get female orange cats, because if there’s a black gene in there on the second X, it will present as calico instead. So both X chromosomes must be carrying orange for an orange female tabby to happen.) Because it takes two X’s to present both colors, nearly every calico is going to be female. This makes male calicos extremely rare, because they have to be XXY and still present as male, which equates to about a .03% chance overall (1 in 3000). And almost every single time you get a male calico, it’s going to be sterile due to that extra X chromosome.

Yet we were forever having people telling us they were missing a male calico. So they’d come through looking for him, and we’d tell them we had no male calicos (because we didn’t), and then they’d stop and go MY BABY! and point to a cat like this:

This, you will recognize from before, is a brown tabby cat with white markings. The people will insist to us that it’s a calico, because it has three colors: brown, black, and white. But remember that tabby markings are a darker version of the base color, meaning that while this guy looks to have black stripes, it is actually, technically, dark brown. (Rather, this whole cat is black genetically, just a different expression of the black gene which makes it brown, meaning that the stripes are also brown because the whole gene is mutated into brown from black. Yeah, it’s weird.)

In addition, it has no orange present, which is the number 1 requirement for a calico cat. So no, this is not a brown, black, and white male calico. This is a brown and white male tabby (specifically a domestic shorthair!).

Calico Part 2: So What’s a Tortoiseshell?

Another issue we’d often have with people trying to verbally describe their cat is that they’d say they were looking for a tortoiseshell cat. Again, as before, tortoiseshell is a color/coat pattern, not a breed but anyway, we ID cats mostly based on color and coat length for this very reason, so it doesn’t really matter. But what does matter is when they said they were looking for a tortoiseshell (tortie for short), and what they were actually looking for was this:

Yup, just a swirly orange tabby. What tortie really looks like is this:

Or sometimes even this (called dilute tortoiseshell):

Recognize something from before? Orange and another distinct color--these torties are calico! Kind of, but also no.

Calico involves white in the coat/pattern, and the other colors are also grouped in distinct patches (tho not always). Tortie does not have white, and the orange is most often flecked throughout the darker base color (usually black). You can get torties that have white bibs and feet tho, and they look like this:

Notice that, while there are a few clearly divided patches, there is also the flecking throughout the coat, thus making this cat a tortoiseshell with white, as opposed to a regular calico, which is mostly white and has clearly defined patches of black and orange. Yeah, I know. It’s.... Complicated.

I know that the genetics of it can be a bit confusing, and the distinction between tortie and calico is weird and hazy at best, but it all boils down to this:

Stripey, spotty, and swirly is tabby

Tabby comes in orange, grey, and brown

Tabby can have white patches along with it, usually feet, faces and tummies

The presence of orange alongside black, brown, or gray means this cat is most likely female

Orange flecks in black/brown/gray (or vice versa) is a tortoiseshell

White plus big blobs of orange and other-color means this is a calico

The patches on a calico can be tabby

Calico, tortoiseshell, and tabby are not cat breeds, but colors and patterns that can exist on any breed of cat

(More about cat color genetics/inheritance here.)

And because you’ve all been so patient with this miles-long info-dump, here is a highly photogenic dilute tabby calico-tortoiseshell American Curl to sum up the whole point of this: that any cat breed can be a precious tabby or calico!

[tanukiyasu]

More cat ocs

Heathcloud: This amber eyed, black and white tom cat is the medicine cat of Cederclan. As a kit, he became interested in all the different herbs that Wrenlight, the previous M.C, had in his den. While all four of his siblings became warrior apprentices, Heathcloud chose to be Wrenlight’s apprentice, and was very excited, that he worked just as hard to impress his mentor. Despite his determination to impress his mentor and his clan, he’s a very meek and quiet cat, which earned him the suffix -cloud once he ready to earn his full name. Heath continued to work hard for his clan, even after Wrenlight retired. He now has an apprentice of his own: Newtberry, a small pale brown she-cat with folded ears and striped legs. Headcanon: He has no interest in a mate, especially since he’s a medicine cat and devotes himself to his job, but surprisingly, he’s got tons of advice to give to hopeless cats who have no romantic experience.

Cypressbreeze: A gray eyed, large, long furred silver and white tabby she-cat; she’s Featherflurry’s sister. A warrior with a confident streak, Cypressbreeze loves a good fight, whether it be for fun or for real. She’s a powerhouse because of her size but she’s very slow like her sister. Her confidence in her strength doesn’t mean she’s self confident about herself. As an apprentice, she was made fun of for being large, and unlike Feather, she wasn’t able to ignore it, which caused her to develop self consciousness about her size. Even as a warrior, she doesn’t really like being big, and wishes she could be a little smaller like her’s and Feather’s two other siblings: Rushheart, a light gray tabby tom, and Brightstrike, a white she-cat. Her height doesn’t matter to her three littermates, or her mate Scorchwhisker, whom she’s also bigger than. Headcanon: Cypress and her littermates use to have another sibling named Sloekit, but she died at three moons old due to greencough. Cypress named one of her own kits after her.

Adderfang: This tom is a sand colored warrior of Hollowclan with faded stripes, dark amber eyes, and two slightly larger fangs on the upper part of his mouth; they are always visible. He had a rough kithood; he was born an only kit and his mother died from too much blood loss. His father Flintclaw blamed him for taking her away from him, so he disowned his only son; a queen named Fernspot raised Adderkit as her own. As an apprentice, his best friend and foster littermate Acornpaw was killed during a lightning storm, where a branch was struck down so swiftly that the clan couldn’t react fast enough. Three cats were killed: two apprentices and one warrior. After earning his warrior name, Adderfang hardly speaks and keeps to himself constantly, but he opens up to Fernspot yet it scared to be near her because he feels she’ll die too soon as well. Headcanon: Adder never talks to Flintclaw and refuses to go on patrol with him because of his neglecting treatment. He also suffers from PTSD.

Badgerdusk: He’s a light green eyed, black furred, Fogclan warrior with a white patch on his left eye, a white tail tip, and white paws. He goes by he/him and they/their pronouns, and has been since he was an apprentice. Though they were born in Fogclan, they like making friends and rather not view Cedarclan cats as their mortal enemy. He was born to the clan’s leader Furzestar and her mate Stonesting, and has two sisters named Antstride and Brambleshade. They grew up normally but they question their self worth in their clan as they’re not the best warrior in the clan, especially since he feels he has to be since his mother’s clan leader. This also causes him to sometimes think if clan life is even the best life for him. Headcanon: They’re the only one who knows about the prophecy after their sister Brambleshade, who’s best friends with Fogclan’s medicine cat, tells him that he and three other cats were involved. Badger was shocked and is confused to why since he doesn’t think he’s all so important, but when the times comes, they want to do their best.

Otterstep: She’s a slender, amber eyed, fluffy calico she-cat from Pondclan. She’s a descendant of Pondstar, due to her father Heronwatcher’s being descended from her. This fact makes her come off as prissy and demanding, acting high and mighty as if she’s important; she’s been acting like it since she was a kit, and it only got annoying when she became an apprentice. As a warrior, she has mellowed out just a touch and feels destined to be leader one day. Headcanon: Otter is a lesbian. She was saved by a female kittypet who saved her as an apprentice from a little dog that escaped; the dog was owned by the same twolegs she had. Her name was Annabelle, a beige she-cat with yellow eyes and a bell collar. Otter use to meet Annabelle every chance she got at night up to when she became a warrior. She started to fall in love with the kittypet, but a moon and a half later, she found that Annabelle and her twolegs moved, and it broke her heart. She hates she never got to tell her how she felt and to ask her to come join Pondclan.

Zephyrstar: Formerly a loner who lived in a long abandoned twoleg place, Zephyrstar is pale silver tom with black flecks, yellow eyes, and a long scar along his spine. It was said by Starclan that ‘a gentle breeze will sweep over and bring life to the pond’, as Pondclan at the time was weak and losing warriors due to a drought and prey shortage; their previous leader Icestar died from starvation and former deputy Redthorn died after eating a bad eel. This led medicine cat apprentice, Hazelpaw, to go in place of her heavily busy mentor to go find this cat. She took four warriors with her: Russetfeather, Whiteburr, Troutshade, and Sunnyheart. They spent much time and went through obstacles, but when they found Zephyrstar, who was called Zephyr at first, he was very much against joining a clan because he liked his freedom. It took a lot to get him to come back to Pondclan, and he became leader with Whiteburr as his deputy. He’s a cat who has a strong heart who’s been helping his clan thrive for many moons already, but he lacks authority and depends on Hazelpaw, now Hazeldawn, and Whiteburr for assistance. Headcanon: Zephyrstar is the only leader who doesn’t believe in Starclan. When he gained his nine lives, he believed it was all a dream he witnessed.

[thesims4blogger]

Official Blog: Create The Most Unique Pets With Create A Pet

The Sims team has released an official blog for The Sims 4 Cats & Dogs Expansion

Hello Simmers and cat and dog lovers everywhere! The Sims™ 4 Cats & Dogs* is just around the corner and we cannot wait to finally put this purrfect pack in your eager paws. We’ve been working on this game for so long and one of the very best features is the new Create-a-Pet. Folks…this version of Create-a-Pet is amazing!

Create-a-Pet is an area where we think we’ve always delivered a great feature in previous versions, so the bar was set rather high. We asked ourselves a few questions early in development:

•  Can we make it as powerful as The Sims 3, but more accessible? •  How do we design fur that matches The Sims 4’s art style? •  How many breeds can we make? The Sims 3 had so many! •  Can we make a splash with a new twist?

The Sims 3’s Create-a-Pet had a layer system mimicked some professional graphics tools. But, it was so difficult to use, and we found most players weren’t able to tap into its power. If a great feature falls in the woods and nobody is there to play it, does it make a sound?

From the outset, we took the lessons from The Sims 4 Create-a-Sim and applied them to Create-a-Pet. Now, you can click and drag on pets to make their ears longer, their eyes cross, and their snouts longer. It’s fun, and there are so many ways to tweak your pets that it’ll make the version with Sims look tame by comparison. Instead of complicated layers, you can now directly paint on the coat, erase marks, rotate spots, and even tweak things like opacity without having to manage the layers. You can create breeds like Calico Cats or Siberian Huskies with complicated coats just like you could previously.

We also added a few tweaks to make it even easier. For example, you can use Stencils! Complicated patterns will blink on your pet. You choose a color, click the mouse, and it’ll fill in the blanks where you click. It’s so easy and fun to create a pet that is unique to you.

Matching the art style of The Sims 4 with complex fur wasn’t a small task and it took our team months to find a solution. We wanted our cats and dogs in The Sims 4 to all look more distinct, like their real-life counterparts, but also to have the “body and fullness” that Sim hair has in The Sims 4. To accomplish this, we added “snap on parts” for the pets. Little tufts of hair, beards, and patches of fur to create dynamic and interesting fur patterns. You can especially see this for breeds like the Golden Retriever or Poodle.

We spent months studying head shapes, ear shapes, tails, coat colors, and more to find ways to maximize just how many unique, special cats and dogs we can craft. As a result, I can name almost every dog in the game from memory. Test me!

Every pet looks so distinct, and now we have a search function to find them. Look for the bizarre, skin-tight Spynx or fluffy Persian. In the canine corner, the Airedale Terrier looks perfect and you can choose from a Pembroke OR Cardigan Welsh Corgi. Every pet looks special, but you’ll find that this isn’t just about looks. When we dive into Live mode, you’ll discover how special and unique they are in behavior as well.

Perhaps you want a mutt or mixed breed instead? We love mutts too! With the click of a button, you can choose any two breeds and randomize between them until you get the right features. Which, of course, you can then customize.

Two of my favorite breeds are the Labrador Retriever and Australian Shepherd. I love the Breed Mix tool as it lets me get the slick coat of a lab, with the vibrant Aussie pattern. Or, I can hit randomize again to get a fluffier Black Lab with two differently colored eyes. This tool perfectly demonstrates our entire goal with The Sims 4 Create-a-Pet: More power, better looking Pets, easier than ever!

Finally, we wanted to do something new. Something special. We wanted to make a splash. Can you say shark costume? Why stop at the water’s edge! Put a piece a toast on your kitty’s head, dress your pet in a taco, or aid their roar with a dino costume. Sure, you can focus on their harness, or collar, but why stop there when you can give your Doberman a fluffy winter cap? You wouldn’t.

You are going to have so much fun playing with The Sims 4 Create-a-Pet feature. I am positively typing this with glee because I think it may be the best creative tool we have ever made. Choose from a huge assortment of breeds. Mix them to create the perfect mutt or unique mix. Paint that spot you want in seconds. Dress them in a ridiculous costume. You’re going to love The Sims 4 Create-a-Pet feature when the pack is released this November. Start dreaming of your dream cat or dog right now!

[buckpaws]

Fawnpaw’s Way

words: 4,080

Fawnpaw is an apprentice of Autumnclan - known for its clever disposition and keen ability to hunt in the undergrowth of their dense forests. Unlike her littermates, however, her apprenticeship is to her mother, and her den has always been the nursery. Having only learned to walk at 5 moons, there were grim expectations from her clan’s medicine cat; but now at 8 moons, Fawnpaw is at a pivotal moment of self-discovery as she navigates her unique role within Autumnclan. 

(experimental little wc oc writing from song of 6 trees...a story about trees and cats and stuff)

ALLEGIANCES

AUTUMNCLAN resourceful ● forest foragers ● adventurous

LEADER APPLESTAR - dark brown tabby she-cat with a white chest and tail tip, and pale green eyes

DEPUTY HAZELHEART - small light brown tabby she-cat with soft yellow eyes

MEDICINE CAT MAPLEFLOWER -  calico she-cat with orange covering her muzzle DAPPLEHEART - large golden she-cat with a distinctive spotted coat and white paws

WARRIORS FERNSHINE -  stocky calico she-cat with thick fur and green eyes

YELLOWBIRCH - lithe orange tabby tom APPRENTICE, RUNNINGPAW

SORRELWING - long-furred ginger tabby she-cat APPRENTICE, BRINDLEPAW

VIXENBREEZE - Cream-colored she-cat with dark paws and ears, and piercing blue eyes APPRENTICE, MOTTLEPAW

LEOPARDSPOTS - very large golden she-cat with distinctive dark spots and a long tail

DUSKSTRIPE - Thick-furred dark gray tom with dark paws and amber eyes

FOXBURROW - tall, dark brown tabby tom with unusual curled fur and yellow eyes

BRACKENSTRIPE - brown and white tabby tom with amber eyes and large paws APPRENTICE, VOLEPAW

FALLENWING -  dark gray tom with a dark muzzle and ears, and amber eyes APPRENTICE, MISTYPAW

FOGBRIGHT - Pale gray she-cat with a light underbelly, and yellow eyes APPRENTICE, PLUMPAW

BLAZINGBIRD - thick-furred ginger tabby she-cat with a white muzzle and bright green eyes

FINCHMASK - thin light brown tabby tom with a white face and paws

GORSEWIND -  small calico she-cat, blind in one eye

APPRENTICES PLUMPAW - lean black tom with green eyes

MISTYPAW - pale tabby she-cat with large blue eyes

VOLEPAW - small, dark brown tabby tom with short, curled fur and yellow eyes

BRINDLEPAW - tortoiseshell and white she-cat with dark green eyes

RUNNINGPAW -  brown tabby tom

FAWNPAW - tiny brown and white tabby she-cat with a half-white muzzle and green eyes

MOTTLEPAW -  long-furred tortoiseshell she-cat with white paws and a twisted jaw and nose

QUEENS MUDPETAL - small tortoiseshell she-cat with light yellow eyes APPRENTICE, FAWNPAW

MARIGOLDTAIL - strong calico she-cat with an orange tail and green eyes (mother of Rosekit, an orange and white she-kit, and Pinekit, a dark brown tabby tom with a white chest and paws)

ELDERS MARBLECOAT - very old, big white tom with black on his paws, nose, and ears

SNOWDROP - frail old white she-cat with a black spot on her nose, going blind

BRIARFALL - cream colored she-cat with dark ears and paws, and dark blue eyes

BADGERTOOTH - black and white tom with amber eyes and large white paws

                                                           ***

                                                          ch.1

     Fawnpaw nuzzled into her mother’s flank, letting the soft tortoiseshell fur found there lull her to rest while she was groomed. This was what she did every day, as she continued to live in the nursery. She was too weak to handle normal apprentice duties, but her heart was happy surrounded by marble. The moss, leaves and feathers made it comfortable under her paws, and it was hard to imagine making her home anywhere other than the place in which she was born.

     Feeling her mother’s tongue begin to rasp behind her ears, a purr erupted from the tiny brown and white she-cat. Mudpetal was the kindest and most beautiful queen in all of Autumnclan, and the apprentice couldn’t imagine a better mother or mentor. It wasn’t a popular or conventional decision for the young she-cat to stay in the nursery for her apprenticeship, but it didn’t bother her. In the last moon alone, she had seen the entire underground cave that sprawled beyond the nursery, protecting it like a sacred pearl. Mudpetal had also taught her the Warrior Code, how to care for the clan’s elders and kits - Fawnpaw certainly felt like an apprentice! Her mind whirled with the different responsibilities of being a clan cat, and when her siblings would return to camp with their jaws clamped around freshkill, Fawnpaw found herself even more glad to be exempt from hunting. It would be difficult to compete with Volepaw or Runningpaw.

     Her brothers, as well as her sister, Brindlepaw, had been made apprentices two moons before her. They were a strong trio, constantly venturing out from the nursery together. At the time, Fawnkit and Mottlekit had been fighting for the strength to wake up each day. The tiny she-cat smiled, thinking of how much she owed to her youngest sister. Despite her ailments and disabilities, and how different her mind behaved to other cats in the clan, the tortoiseshell had never stopped battering her sister with her paws to play, purring at any cat who came by. It didn’t matter to her, even now as an apprentice surrounded by stronger, bigger, healthier young cats, Mottlepaw faced every day with bright eyes.

     “You seem especially happy today,” Mudpetal mewed, finishing her grooming with a purr of her own. “What’s on your mind, Fawnpaw?”

     Gazing up at her mother for a moment, Fawnpaw felt like she couldn’t speak through her purring.

     “I’m grateful, that’s all. I wonder if I’ll get to attend a gathering soon with everyone else.”

     Her mother was thoughtful, and finally gave her a last lick on the head, smoothing a set of stripes into place in her tabby fur.

     “I’m sure Applestar will let you go soon. The Gathering-Place isn’t too far from our camp.” But her voice held a few notes of doubt that were difficult for Fawnpaw to ignore. She peered up, yellow eyes prying, until her mother had to avert her olive gaze from her daughter. “We’re facing some difficult times. Our leader has many worries.”

     “Do I worry her? For being weak?”

     “You are not weak,” Her mother said sternly, “Being able to run and hunt aren’t the only ways to be strong. You’re learning how to care for your clan in a different way, that’s all.”

     It was as she always told her, and Fawnpaw liked the conviction with which her mother could comfort her. She was loved. That was definitely true. There would be plenty of time to prove herself to Applestar and the rest of Autumnclan.

     A loud mewl filtered into their den. Fawnpaw’s ears pricked to catch which kit was fussing. A pause. Pinekit.

     She looked to her mother for approval, who gave her a nod and a gentle nudge with her muzzle. The apprentice scrambled from her nest on skinny, wobbly legs. Shaking soft bits of moss and fern from her pelt, Fawnpaw scurried out of her mother’s section of the nursery, and out towards the rest of the cave. Following the noise, she finally popped her head through the entrance.

     Marigoldtail was trying to lick her son into feeling calm, but Pinekit just wouldn’t settle. Looking up, the calico she-cat’s eyes brightened at the sight of her sister’s kit. Beckoning her over, Fawnpaw padded up and nuzzled the young tom. His sister, Rosekit, was trying to burrow herself into their mother’s belly, away from the squawks and cries of her littermate. She had even stuffed her tiny white paws over her ears.

     “I’m glad you’re here,” Marigoldtail murmured, looking apologetic. “He’s had trouble sleeping since he came back to the nursery. And the herbs my sister gives him don’t exactly make the job any easier.”

     Fawnpaw nodded in understanding. The poor little kit had had problems with his breathing since he was born close to three moons prior. She nosed at his dark brown tabby fur, stopping at the white patch on his chest. Letting her purr overpower the gentle rattling of his breath, Fawnpaw felt Pinekit begin to knead into her. His cries were soon raspy purrs. She licked away a few stray pieces of yellow coltsfoot that had stuck to his white leg fur like little golden bugs.

     The queen was now purring heavily too, blinking with gratitude at the young apprentice. Once he was thoroughly asleep, she tucked Pinekit gently back into his mother’s belly, where he curled up against his sister. Fawnpaw’s heart felt full at the sight of the tiny bundles of orange and brown fur, their white paws and tails intertwined. She loved her kin, and was so happy she got to take care of them. It would be a long time until they were apprentices, but maybe they could train together someday! The kits were so small, surely she would be able to keep up with them far better than her rambunctious littermates.

     “You have a real skill, Fawnpaw,” said Marigoldtail, her green eyes shining with affection and pride. With her tail straight up and twitching happily, Fawnpaw turned and left the den. She stopped at the entrance of her mother’s den, where the small she-cat was laying on her side with her head resting neatly on her paws.

     “I’m going to go look for Mottlepaw,” She meowed.

     “Good, the sun must feel wonderful today. When you see her, you should remind her to see Mapleflower for her herbs.” Fawnpaw dipped her head at her mother’s request. Her sister wouldn’t love them; hopefully it wouldn’t be a large ordeal to get her sister to the medicine cat’s den.

     “Come on, Mottlekit! They’re good for you!” Dappleheart mewed wearily, trying not to be discouraged by the kit’s loud protests. Rather than saying no, the she-kit simply threw herself on the ground, yowling and screeching. Mapleflower’s tail lashed nearby, orange and white fur whipping in and out of her place in the shadows. The golden she-cat’s ears flattened to her head, struggling with failing to please both her patient and her mentor.

     “She’ll learn…” She started, only to be silenced by Mapleflower’s glare. “I know that they’re not very yummy … “

     “No! No! No!” Came the eventual words from Mottlekit, but her words were slurred and off-center. The cleft in her lip, curled up into her nose like an angry vine, made her look even more hysterical and upset when her jaw opened to yell.

    Disheartened, the medicine cat apprentice guided the kit back to her nest. She would never give up on Mottlekit, no matter how much work it took to get the stubborn little kit to understand her.

     Fawnpaw owed just as much to the medicine cats as Mottlepaw. She spent a lot of time musing on the moons spent helping the two she-kits grow into cats healthy and strong enough to become apprentices. And once they were ‘paws, Applestar had found the perfect places for them. Fawnpaw knew that her leader was proud of her progress so far, even if it didn’t mean an extra body on one of her patrols. Why would Autumnclan have elders if every cat had to be strong and tough? Why would apprentices have to wait six moons to start their training, only after their bodies had begun to become strong and nimble? It made sense to her.

     Letting her paws carry her down the slope, Fawnpaw felt the smooth marble begin to fade into sturdy, gray stone. The vines and aspen leaves marked the entrance of the nursery, but Fawnpaw could tell it by touch alone. She passed it, looking around for any sign of her sister. The cave portion of the camp was quiet, and so she decided to venture up above ground. Maybe one of her littermates would be enjoying some of the greenleaf sunshine that Mudpetal had mentioned. Following subtle divots in the stone from generations of paws, Fawnpaw made her way towards the cave’s main opening. It was steep, and tiny pebbles cascaded down with every step up towards the pouring light that led into the center of camp. 

     Padding up and into the gorge, Fawnpaw’s large ears twitched back and forth. Different scents hit her nose, and she felt a little startled by the diversity of them. Peering around the bend of red rock, Fawnpaw noticed Leopardspots and Duskstripe, her mate, sharing tongues under an overhang. The shade there muted the gold and gray shades of their pelts, and the pair seemed content to rest in the cool shadows. Fawnpaw looked in awe at the large she-cat, easily as tall as a fox, but with a heart a hundred times more gentle. She had heard many stories of Leopardspots’ bravery, bringing her kits to Autumnclan in order to protect them from the wrath of her kind. One of those kits had then gone on to save her life.

     She could also scent Applestar and Hazelheart, their familiar tang muddled with something totally unfamiliar. The imprint of many hushed voices drifted down from the leader’s den, but Fawnpaw couldn’t make out anything that was said. Besides, she wasn’t interested in eavesdropping on the leader and her deputy’s affairs.

     With a polite nod to the resting warriors, Fawnpaw continued on her way. 

     Even as she passed under the dappled light of the forest, peering insistently through brambles and bushes, Fawnpaw could feel that the entire hollow was warm. Her pawsteps were silent as shade consumed her once more. Where the hollow met the earth, thick layers of soil and red stone kept the elder’s den pleasantly cool in greenleaf, but plenty warm during leafbare. Fawnpaw’s eyes followed the vine and honeysuckle trail that she had woven into place at the den’s entrance. The sight of it made her heart surge with pride. Mudpetal had taught her the importance of keeping the elder’s den clean and full of stimulation. It was one of her favorite of the apprentice tasks, though few aside from her found the time to do such a thing in addition to their training.

     Flicking her ears against the tickles of the vines, Fawnpaw caught a scent that she knew too well, and her tail quivered in excitement. Following voices and scents once more through the dark den, she was soon met with a busy scene before her. Mottlepaw was there with Plumpaw, an older apprentice who had once been their denmate in the nursery. Badgertooth and Briarfall, the youngest elders, were resting with the young black tom, who was gently massaging Briarfall’s flank. Fawnpaw remembered that his mother, Vixenbreeze, was the pair’s only kit.

     “Ah, Fawnpaw!” Came a rattling mew from Snowdrop. The she-cat was tiny in her old age, but her white pelt still glowed against the dark stone and moss nest she spent most of her time in. Her brother, Marblecoat, grunted beside her.

     “Two apprentices is more than enough,” He muttered.

     “Fawnpaw!” Mottlepaw cried out in excitement, nearly tripping over one of Badgertooth’s large paws to reach her sister. He lifted it with a flick of his tail tip, and the tortoiseshell stumbled over to Fawnpaw. “Fawnpaw!”

     Blinking with affection at her sister, Fawnpaw nuzzled her head with her muzzle. Mottlepaw practically slammed her head against the young tabby’s pelt, causing her to fumble on her paws. Loudly purring, Mottlepaw looked up at her with love in her asymmetric gaze. Her twisted nose let out happy little huffs.

     “Hi Mottlepaw, hi everyone,” Fawnpaw meowed, guiding her sister to sit with Plumpaw once more. She gave him a friendly wave of her tail.

     “Nice to see you, Fawnpaw. We were just helping Briarfall with her joints,” Came Plumpaw’s voice, as sweet as his namesake. He was a good denmate to her sister now too, and Fawnpaw was glad for it. Plumpaw, or his sister, Mistypaw, were always thinking up games to play with the younger kits. Even when Mudpetal’s strongest had taken to venturing out at any opportunity, there was always the black tom there to play mossball, or give a quick nuzzle during a fit, in Mottlepaw’s case. Sometimes, when she was just Fawnkit, unable to stand or walk, Plumkit would just sit with her and talk. Without him and Mudpetal, Fawnpaw wondered if she would have even known what things existed to be talked about.

    “If they’re still busy, you’ll have to get this tick, it’s making my shoulder ache,” Snowdrop beckoned Fawnpaw over, drawing her from her thoughts. She was quick to begin inspecting the elder’s white pelt, and even faster to find the fat, black tick nesting there. 

     “There’s some mouse bile over in the corner, but don’t go dragging it through here. The pests Badgertooth brings in on his shaggy pelt give me enough trouble as it is,” Snowdrop shared a disgruntled look with Marblecoat, whose black ears seemed to always lay flat in hostility.  

     “It’s a reminder of the forest. You should be glad you get the chance to experience it at your age, Snowdrop,” Badgertooth snorted.

     “She has a point, you know,” Came Briarfall’s amused mew.

     “I still like to hunt. I don’t intend on stopping.” The large tom said with a soft sigh of assurance. His mate laughed low in her throat, leaning on him until half of her cream-colored fur had become one with his long, black pelt. Snowdrop gave only a sigh in response at her endearingly raucous denmates. Fawnpaw could barely stifle her purr at the cats around her as she sat to work with the soaked moss, dabbing the mouse bile lightly onto some of the ticks. It required a delicate touch, so as not to spill the foul liquid on any cat’s fur. She had never been able to smell too well, so it didn’t bother her as much as it seemed to bother the other apprentices. Volepaw practically gagged every time he came to and from Mapleflower’s den with the moss clamped desperately to the longest piece of bark he could find.

     It was funny to Fawnpaw how such a brave and capable young apprentice could be squeamish about something so small. One day, he’d have to let the young cats remove the ticks from his fur. Maybe at that point they’d share a den again, with all of their littermates together, and they could joke about things like that.

     “I think I’ve got it,” Fawnpaw meowed after a short time, giving Snowdrop’s fur a last inspection. The she-cat waved her away with her once sleek tail.

     “Thorough as always, Fawnpaw,” The elder said, seemingly in approval, before casting a glance at the tortoiseshell apprentice sitting a few tail lengths away. Mottlepaw was oblivious, playing with a flower from the den wall in place of checking the elders, or easing their aches. Now, Plumpaw was working alone. “You’ll be a warrior soon, Plumpaw; you shouldn’t spend all your time doing apprentice duties when we have so many.” She spoke now to the dark tom, who met her pale gaze with his own. He clearly picked up on the implication of her words, as did Fawnpaw, who began to bristle slightly.

     But Plumpaw answered in a level tone, “It’s important to me. I hope you’re not too tired of me yet, Snowdrop.”

     “Hardly,” The she-cat laughed in her throat, rasping as she always did, and her eyes were not entirely unkind or without understanding, “Sometimes the only way apprentices learn is when they’re forced to learn on their own, without someone to watch their flank. Life out there is hard, and only the strongest are able to pull through.”

     “You’re sounding awfully wise today,” Marblecoat commented before any cat had the chance, “Who asked for your speech?”

     “Are you disagreeing with me?” Snowdrop’s meow was incredulous, and Plumpaw rolled his eyes before turning back to Mottlepaw and the other two elders, his conversation with Snowdrop clearly forgotten in favor of a new quarrel. It was hard to stay mad at the she-cat on account of her short of a time her criticisms tended to last. Like an ember doused by a lake, Fawnpaw had heard Mistypaw joke once about the white elder’s memory.

     “I caught a butterfly today...” Mottlepaw started up loudly, her head pushed in between Plumpaw’s cheek and one of Briarfall’s dark ears. His green eyes met Fawnpaw’s, and he gave a small glance to the mouth of the elder’s cave. Fawnpaw stood up in knowing, her tail neatly brushing the den floor in a small gesture to her sister.

     “Really?” She said in her usual quiet tone, “Would you come with me and tell me more?”

      Mottlepaw’s interest was captured instantly, and she quickly stood and pressed herself to Fawnpaw’s flank. She could feel her sister purring intensely.

     “Okay! Yes!” The young apprentice was practically swaying on her feet from the breathy purrs rumbling in her throat. It was then that Plumpaw also stood.

      “Mind if I tag along, Fawnpaw?”

      “Sure,” She flicked her white-tipped tail, “Let’s all go for a walk. Let me know if you get any more ticks,” Fawnpaw said, dipping her head to Snowdrop and Marblecoat, who were already settling down at the sight of the trio leaving. It made her heart drop with sadness. Was Mottlepaw really such a nuisance the elders? Fawnpaw knew just how important their opinions were as the oldest cats in the clan, and she hoped to Starclan that they would come around to her sister. There was more to Mottlepaw than her boundless energy and stumbling, or how she looked on the outside. Fawnpaw held that fact close to her heart, and she knew it made her more than a little protective of her youngest littermate.

     Not much time had passed since she had arrived at the elder’s den, but the air of the cave felt even warmer as the greenleaf breeze brought in with it the sun’s warmth. It was pleasant on her fur. Even clumps of moss that grew through crevices in the cave felt comfortable to Fawnpaw’s touch underpaw. 

     “This weather is amazing,” Plumpaw meowed, voicing her thoughts out loud.

     “It’s the best! I hope Starclan makes it greenleaf all the time!” Mottlepaw agreed, and Fawnpaw gave her a friendly nudge.

     “That’s not how it works, silly furball,” Fawnpaw mewed quietly, and her sister’s everpresent purr intensified once more.

     “I’ve never been to Starclan, who’s to say…” Plumpaw said, with a mischievous glint in his green eyes.

     “I don’t even know how to get to Starclan!” Mottlepaw responded in dramatic agreement, “I bet they tell the trees not to grow tall enough for us to get up there! We’d know all their secrets! Secret knowledge!” She rambled on, tromping around Fawnpaw and Plumpaw with a distracted sense of purpose. It was as if she expected a Starclan warrior to come down and prove her wrong if she thought about it long enough.

     “Maybe Mapleflower could tell us more.” Fawnpaw suggested, sensing an opportunity which she hoped would be a tactful enough excuse for Mottlepaw to visit the medicine cat’s den. She seemed to pause, but nodded slowly.

     “Yeah, and Dappleheart can make voices for the story!” Mottlepaw said, excitement slowly dawning on her like a reckoning.

     As the three apprentices made their way out of the deeper cave and back into the open air of the gorge, alive with the birdsong of greenleaf, they saw a hunting patrol emerging from the top of the gentle slope leading from the forest. Fogbright was leading it, alongside her brother, Fallenwing, his apprentice, Mistypaw. They were also accompanied by Sorrelwing and Brindlepaw, who carried a plump squirrel and a blackbird between the two of them. Fawnpaw’s ears pricked at the sight of her strong older sister, and she was about to call out to her before Fogbright’s gaze narrowed on the apprentices.

     “Plumpaw! Where have you been?” Her tail whipped once before she continued, “Why do I have to keep hunting you down too?” She said, pointedly gesturing at the fresh-kill pile with her tail, where Sorrelwing and Brindlepaw were arranging the patrol’s bounty.

    “I’m sorry, Fogbright,” Plumpaw dipped his head in apology, “I lost track of time while I was in the elder’s den. Briarfall’s aches haven’t eased since newleaf.”

     “That’s nice, but it’ll hardly put freshkill in our bellies,” Fogbright meowed dryly, “I hope you’ll be ready for your assessment tomorrow. Mistypaw caught two finches on patrol this morning.” The pale-furred tabby apprentice seemed to shift uncomfortably at the praise directed towards her. Fawnpaw too shifted, but in surprise; she hadn’t known just how early Plumpaw would become a warrior! Mistypaw’s mentor, Fallenwing, came to stand beside his sister. Fawnpaw thought they looked like a pair of proper littermates, with the only difference being Fallenwing’s darker gray fur, shadowy next to Fogbright’s light gray pelt.

     “Plumpaw is doing fine, Fogbright. His battle moves are sharp, even Yellowbirch couldn’t dodge him when we trained the other day.” Fallenwing meowed evenly, and Fogbright seemed taken aback at his words. When Fawnpaw saw the two together, which was quite often, they usually shared a common voice.

     Fawnpaw felt her own paws begin to itch with discomfort. Was she just feeling paranoid today? First with Snowdrop’s dismissiveness, and now Fogbright’s irritation at seeing her apprentice helping Mottlepaw with her apprentice tasks. It seemed as if every time she left the nursery, someone was displeased about the two newest apprentices. She tried to ease the feeling by reminding herself of her mother’s words earlier that morning. If Applestar was feeling the stress of some kind of difficulty in the clan that Fawnpaw couldn’t see, it was very well possible that some of the mentors were also experiencing a strain. Still, it made her ears hot, and Fawnpaw pressed against her sister’s warm, dark fur.

     “Thanks, Fallenwing,” Plumpaw said gratefully, still looking to his mentor apologetically, “I could ask Hazelheart to put me on evening patrol tonight to get sharp.”

     “Don’t worry about it. I want to see your best tomorrow.” Was all that Fogbright said, simply flicking her tail before turning the other way and descending down the red rock tunnel back to the warrior’s den. Plumpaw cringed in clear guilt for upsetting his mentor, and Mistypaw padded up to give him a sympathetic lick on his shoulder. Her blue eyes were as clear as the sky, offering him comfort without words. Fawnpaw admired their bond; she couldn’t imagine growing up with only her mother and her aging kin. She thought they were a beautiful family, but couldn’t shake the feeling that without her father, Foxburrow, she would be impossibly sad, or that deep down she’d feel a hole in her heart. Never had a day gone by without him visiting the nursery, or the medicine cat’s den, when life had been truly uncertain. His deep amber gaze never failed to shine with pride at her or Mottlepaw. Fawnpaw would never get tired of hearing the story of her father’s coming to Autumnclan, how as a loner, he had been so captivated by Mudpetal’s beauty that he had asked their previous leader, Gingerstar, to take him into the clan. It must be difficult for Vixenbreeze’s kits to have never known what their father was like.

     “I guess there’s no harm if I come with you to see Mapleflower and Dappleheart now,” Plumpaw said at last breaking the awkward silence left by Fogbright’s sharp words. And seemingly sensing the energy directed at her denmate, Brindlepaw had quietly slipped through the tunnel after Sorrelwing, and the opportunity to talk to her was gone too.

                                                                  ***