#palepaw

[mourningsbane]

For the first time in moons, Flaildrizzle prays. She cannot lose another, not someone so young. She thinks that, if he goes, she may shatter so thoroughly that no one will be able to pick up all her pieces.

Tanglefern says that he'll be okay, that he simply needs to heal, but he said that last time and Flaildrizzle isn't naive anymore.

StarClan, in all your cruelty, please do not take him.

Moon 3, Pt. 1.

Beginning. Go back?<< Proceed? >>

[fallenclan]

so how about that Gizmo huh

First Prev Next

[flameclan-clangen]

Moon 208 - Winter (Part One)

Previous | First | Next

Slowly but surely revealing more cats...kitties, even...

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 45

Weedfoot announces she is expecting her second litter.

[Image ID: Weedfoot tells Palepaw and Ripplepaw, “Don’t worry, you two. I’m still your mother.” Under her, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT.]

(Weedfoot: 94, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Palepaw: 11, female, mediator apprentice, insecure, picky nest builder, never sits still)

(Ripplepaw: 11, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)

Rattlepelt confessed her feelings to Wildclaw and they have become mates.

[Image ID: Rattlepelt says to Wildclaw, “I think I’m ready… ask me again, Wildclaw.” Under Wildclaw, it says + MATE: RATTLEPELT. Under Rattlepelt, it says + MATE: WILDCLAW.]

(Wildclaw: 37, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Rattlepelt: 28, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

Interested in herbs even in her kithood, Troutpaw is eagerly apprenticed to Fennelspot.

[Image ID: Troutpaw, in her apprentice sprite, faces Fennelspot, who says, “I hope I do right by you, Troutpaw.” Under Troutpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TROUTKIT -> TROUTPAW, INSECURE -> COMPASSIONATE.]

(Fennelspot: 102, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Troutpaw: 6, female, cleric apprentice, compassionate, morbid curiosity)

Shadowdrop’s kits are apprenticed. While Tempestpaw is eager to explore the territory, Mosspaw and Trumpetpaw’s thoughts are on their dead father. Their mentors are Carnationspeckle, Clammask, and Halibutdusk.

[Image ID: Tempestpaw, Mosspaw, and Trumpetpaw all have apprentice sprites. Under Tempestpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TEMPESTKIT -> TEMPESTPAW. Under Mosspaw, it says LEVEL UP! MOSSKIT -> MOSSPAW, BULLYING -> SHAMELESS. Under Trumpetpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TRUMPETKIT -> TRUMPETPAW, NERVOUS -> TROUBLESOME, + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF STORIES.]

(Tempestpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, loves to eat)

(Mosspaw: 6, male, caretaker apprentice, shameless, stares at fire)

(Trumpetpaw: 6, female, warrior apprentice, troublesome, plays in mud, lover of stories)

Downstar stands above the Clan and proclaims Elmpaw shall be known as Elmsprout, honoring her amity.

[Image ID: Elmsprout is in her full, long-furred, adult sprite. Under her, it says LEVEL UP! ELMPAW -> ELMSPROUT, CAREFUL LISTENER -> HELPFUL INSIGHT.]

(Elmsprout: 12, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

Downstar, Rustshade, and Puddlepaw find a wounded loner with a mangled tail.

[Image ID: Downstar, Rustshade, and Puddlepaw stand in the back while Fennelspot talks to a black bengal tom with a white underside. Under the black tom, it says NEW PLAYER: DARKKICK, 105, MALE, LONESOME, TALENTED SWIMMER, UNDERSTANDS NATURE, + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL.]

---

The black and white tom wasn’t trained to fight. He’d only gotten into a few scrapes in his many moons wandering the wilds surrounding his old home, learning what he could from the friends he made. He’d never been in a fight like this. He was never meant to be in a fight like this. Never meant to be in a fight at all.

He wasn’t about to join his ancestors that day, however. He was still too mad at them.

The brown tom chased the loner all the way from the northern human settlement. It was like he had been waiting for the loner, following rumors of a starkly colored tom offering medical treatment to any strays who needed it. You’d have to be mousebrained to get mad at someone for that, but considering how the loner’s feathery tail was now coated in blood, he wouldn’t argue with the maniac.

The loner’s paws skidded against the edge of the river. It still had its freezing winter chill to it, despite the coming of spring. Thick Clan scent flooded the loner’s nose. Oh, to go home… but he knew full well that he was not welcome there anymore. If he crossed the river, he would suffer their wrath. Yet with how vicious his attacker was…

The loner could hear his pursuer getting closer, stomping over new growth in his mad dash. The loner could handle a random Clan patrol. He steadied his paws against the stones and dirt leading into the water and plunged in. 

The loner’s blood drifted in the current. His long fur weighed him down, but he kicked with the flow like he was running on water. He arched over stones and curved his body like an otter, letting the river do most of his work for him. He threw his head over the surface of the water for a deep, shaking breath. He looked back. The brown tom stood by the river, glaring at the loner. The loner dove back into the water.

He kept swimming until his muscles began to ache and his lungs started to burn. The current pushed him toward a wall of stone, where the river pushed on only a paw deep. The loner splashed onto the shallow rocks. He laid in the low flow, gathering his breath. He’d go treat his tail soon. He just… needed a moment to rest. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

“Stay there!” someone yowled. Wonderful, more company. The loner’s eyes were blurry from water, strain, and pain, but he squinted at the figure approaching from the southern side of the river. He saw gray spots against a well-muscled body and blue eyes studying his drenched pelt.

“Puddlespeckle?” the loner coughed, water dripping from his nose. His eyes cleared a bit; no, not Puddlespeckle. Puddlespeckle had no white blaze on his face.

“That’s my grandfather’s name,” the lookalike gasped. “I’m his granddaughter, Puddlepaw. How do you know my grandfather?”

“Puddlepaw, who have you found?” Two more figures approached the river. The loner’s vision was clear, and there was no mistaking the two cats coming closer.

“Rustshade and Downdapple,” the loner laughed softly, shaking his dripping head. “I heard RippleClan became a reality, but I wasn’t sure if you were part of it.”

“Darkkick?” Rustshade muttered. The ginger tom and tortoiseshell molly shared the same shocked look. Puddlepaw slipped back to Rustshade’s side. The loner, Darkkick, pulled himself out of the river and shook out his pelt. His tail burned and he couldn’t help but hiss.

“The one and only,” Darkkick huffed, grooming his tail.

“You’ve misnamed Downstar,” Puddlepaw said, glancing up at her leader. “Downstar, is this the same Darkkick from the stories?”

“I should have guessed you tell stories about me,” Darkkick scoffed. “I suppose you paint me as Autumnstar’s victim, then? Thrown out for doing what StarClan asked?”

“We’re sorry that happened to you,” Downstar said, bowing her head. “We thought you left the territories long ago.”

“I traveled for a few moons,” Darkkick sighed. “My better nature got the better of me though. Couldn’t let loners die when I know how to help them.” Darkkick spat out a chunk of wet black fur. “I would have thought you’d pick Paleshade as leader.”

“She didn’t live to see RippleClan’s founding,” Puddlepaw muttered.

“Ah,” Darkkick said softly. The fur along his spine bristled. It would have been easy for Autumnstar to kill the brave molly without Darkkick around. He’d covered for Paleshade and Weedfoot so many times as cleric…

“Fennelspot would want to see you,” Downstar said. “He could help you with your tail.” Darkkick studied his tail. The wounds were big, and it would take Darkkick a while to set up a temporary medicine den, especially with the maniac from the human settlement looking for him.

“Let’s see how that tom’s been taking care of you,” Darkkick sighed, padding away from the river. “Now what part of the coastline has your little group mangled into a camp?”

Rustshade and Puddlepaw took position on either side of Darkkick (codekeepers, always so wary) while Downstar escorted the long-lost cleric to RippleClan’s camp. Darkkick had heard stories of the shipwreck by the sea, had even seen it from a distance on day-long patrols to collect resources from the ocean, but he would never have imagined it safe for cats to camp in. Even if you ignored the old stories (which apparently no one was telling the younger generation from the look on Puddlepaw’s face during Darkkick’s musings) of terrifying wraiths wandering the shipwreck, how long would the wood last and keep the Clan sheltered? Somehow, though, the shipwreck was still standing strong, protecting the blossoming Clan under its wind-worn wood.

Although Darkkick knew better than to needlessly flame anyone’s pride, he could admit to himself at the very least that RippleClan was doing well. Young apprentices proudly joined their mentors. Elders rested in the shade (although… was one of them wearing a ribbon collar? Did Fennelspot forget how a collar could choke a wild cat? Was this some odd new tradition the RippleClan founders invented?). It was, by every definition Darkkick knew, a true Clan. 

A familiar ginger tom sat by a large rock near the shipwreck, slowly sharing a meal with a long-furred cream and white molly. Fennelspot’s gaze drifted over the returning patrol. At first, he glazed over Darkkick. Then he choked on his prey.

“Fennelspot!” the young molly yelped. She patted Fennelspot’s back as the cleric collected his breath.

“Don’t kill yourself on my behalf,” Darkkick purred as his escorts led him toward his old colleague.

“Darkkick…” Fennelspot coughed.

“Troutpaw, can you leave us be for a moment?” Downstar asked the cream-colored apprentice.

“You’re Darkkick?” Troutpaw gasped. “The exiled cleric?”

“I haven’t been a cleric in many moons,” Darkkick sighed. He couldn’t stop himself from purring at Troutpaw’s wide-eyed expression. “Don’t tell me I’m famous.”

“You play a role in some of my mother’s stories about AshClan,” Puddlepaw said, shrinking slightly beside the black tom.

“He flopped out of the river with a mangled tail,” Rustshade sighed. 

“Yes, Troutpaw, get a spot ready for our new patient,” Fennelspot gulped, taking the last bite of the roasted mouse. 

“Yes, sir,” Troutpaw said before dutifully bounding off to what Darkkick assumed was the medicine den. 

“Come here and share tongues with me, you old fool,” Darkkick chuckled. Fennelspot touched noses with Darkkick.

“If I’m old, then so are you,” Fennelspot chuckled softly. He began to share tongues with Darkkick, grooming the remaining water from his fur. He licked blood off Darkkick’s tail as best he could. In between that grooming, he asked, “You must have so many questions! So do I. Where have you been? Why come back after all these moons?”

“It’s more of a visit than a homecoming, Fennel,” Darkkick huffed. “I could use some help with these wounds I got.”

“You’re going to leave again?” Fennelspot gulped, meeting Darkkick’s eyes. 

“Do you really think Autumnstar will be pleased if you announce my arrival at the next Gathering?” Darkkick scoffed.

“Autumnstar has passed on,” Downstar explained, touching her tail to Darkkick’s shoulder. “And we don’t care what AshClan thinks of us. They chose to exile you. We’d be happy to take you in.”

“Your nest is ready, Darkkick,” Troutpaw called, sticking her head out of the medicine den.

“Let’s see how well you’ve fared in all this sand, Fennelspot,” Darkkick muttered, trying to shake wet sand off his paws. His entourage followed him to the medicine den. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the shadows in the overturned boat. The familiar scent of concoctions and ointments and dried herbs threw him into the past, to days when he had an eager ginger apprentice and the respect of both AshClan and StarClan. Now he lacked both.

“Father?” The voice brought Darkkick back to the present. A brown molly, her back covered and restrained in a tight splint, stared at Darkkick with huge, owl-like amber eyes. Another gray spotted molly, this one almost the perfect reflection of Weedfoot, sat by her side, her conversation suddenly interrupted.

“Father?” Puddlepaw, Troutpaw, and the lookalike gasped.

“Spike,” Darkkick muttered. For a moment, he checked his daughter’s pelt for stars, wondering if she was some ghostly vision. 

“Darkkick is your father?” Downstar asked, moving between the pair.

“You broke your oath,” Fennelspot mumbled, his tall tail falling.

“That oath became meaningless the moment I was exiled,” Darkkick snapped, sneering. Fennelspot quickly bowed his head. Darkkick collected himself, his half-wet fur weighing him down, and looked back at his long lost daughter. “Last I saw your mother, she told me you were dead.”

“I would have been without RippleClan,” the brown molly admitted. “It’s Spikecrash now though, Father. I’ve joined their ranks as a mediator. Palepaw here has been sharing some of her lessons with me.”

“Why am I not surprised that’s the name of one of Weedfoot’s kits,” Darkkick sighed, purring as Palepaw’s shocked expression grew. “Don’t be so stunned. The relation is more obvious than a dog in a tree.”

“Puddlepaw, Palepaw, come outside with me,” Rustshade sighed with a twitch of his tail. “I can better explain what’s happening.” Palepaw hesitantly slunk between Darkkick and Fennelspot as she joined her sister outside. The two littermates followed Rustshade to a quiet spot to talk.

“Your mother thought you had died,” Darkkick said, risking a step closer to Spikecrash. “She… she was not well when I last saw her.”

“We went to find her shortly after Spikecrash officially joined the Clan,” Downstar explained. “She’s being cared for by humans.”

“Yes, thanks to me,” Darkkick huffed, glaring at Downstar. “I took her. I couldn’t stay to care for her.” Darkkick hissed as a sharp sting ran down his tail. Fennelspot had snuck behind him and rubbed an ointment on his tail.

“You aren’t sitting down, and we can’t let you bleed all over the medicine den,” Fennelspot huffed, dipping his paw back into a small jar of ointment and continuing the process.

“Part of me is glad things happened this way,” Spikecrash admitted, her eyes softening as she watched Darkkick squirm. “Fennelspot says my back is healing well. Mom is living with beings who can better care for her. I know we haven’t spent much time together, Father, but we could grow closer as part of a Clan! You could meet Cinderella’s kits, they’ve just been apprenticed.” Darkkick didn’t answer. The medicine den felt too small. How could he stand under the gaze of his ancestors again when StarClan…

“Stay.” Fennelspot walked in front of Darkkick, placing his tail on Spinecrash’s splint. “If not for her, then for us. RippleClan could use your knowledge in the medicine den.”

“I’m not a cleric anymore,” Darkkick huffed, his gut tensing at the very thought. He didn’t want to look at the disappointment covering everyone’s faces. He grit his teeth. He spoke to the ground. “If you find yourselves overwhelmed, I can help treat patients, as I have been for years now. But if I join RippleClan, I am just a warrior. I cannot bear the cleric’s name.” He locked eyes with Fennelspot (the shine in his old friend’s eyes made him want to groan from the sheer overwhelming sentimentality). “Is that understood?”

“We can make it work,” Fennelspot promised. He once again touched noses with Darkkick. Troutpaw purred in the back at the sweet display.

“Now tell me,” Darkkick grunted, taking a seat in front of the daughter he thought dead as the others settled around him, “what in the name of the four— er, five Clans has happened while I’ve been away?”

(Darkkick: 105, male, warrior, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)

(Puddlepaw: 11, trans female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, morbid curiosity, oddly observant)

(Rustshade: 89, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Downstar: 104, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Fennelspot: 102, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Troutpaw: 6, female, cleric apprentice, compassionate, morbid curiosity)

(Spikecrash: 20, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Palepaw: 11, female, mediator apprentice, insecure, picky nest builder, never sits still)

[cherry-clan]

i <3 Basseye! from @cricketclan

it sucks that my one healer is terribly injured

edit: AHH I SPELLED EAGLEPAWS NAME WRONG

first - last - next

[smallfire]

drew all my current @threeclans characters as little kittens <3

[nectarrclan-gen]

starting cats woo

[gooseclan]

Palepaw just heard something and now wants to climb onto the leader’s ledge

[mothmans-warriors-designs]

Changed their name because in my rewrite their apprenticeship would have overlapped with Silverstream, so I didn't want two Silverpaws. They are a charlie (non binary) in my AU

The gain the name Palefur in StarClan

Born: Into The Wild

First Appeared: Fire and Ice (allegiances only)

Died: Rising Storm

Mothers: Emberflame, Vixenleap

Siblings: Copperpelt, Nettlepaw (Nettleshade), Robinfeather

Mentor: Loudbelly

[waspywaspy]

I did not mean Zinnia to be that creepy.

Snap-Paw's mentor is Antlerglare and Palepaw's is Basilstem and Flightpaw's is obviously Loudbone.

[mourningsbane]

This Willow Tree is quite worried over Palepaw!! He needs a fresh out of the dryer blanket

"He spends much of his time staring at the dirt, but he eats and drinks well enough, so all he needs now is rest," Tanglefern says softly, "I've done all I can, wrapped him up well and tight. He's just in shock, I suppose. Give him time, and I'm sure he'll open up again."

Four moons till █████████.

Beginning. Go back?<< Proceed? >>

[letyachan]

392.Palesky

Daughter of Mintfur and Nettlesplash

"Enough. This vigil is about forgiveness."

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 43

Winter disease continues to spread; while Weedfoot recovers from whitecough, Burdockcreek catches Mosskit’s greencough.

[Image ID: Weedfoot and Burdockcreek each sit on screen. Under Weedfoot, it says - CONDITION: WHITECOUGH. Under Burdockcreek, it says + CONDITION: GREENCOUGH.]

(Weedfoot: 92, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Burdockcreek: 37, male, historian, competitive, lore keeper)

Palepaw works with Fennelspot and Rattlepelt to negotiate herb-gathering disputes with AshClan. The meeting goes better than expected, and Palepaw has a plan to handle the issue for good.

[Image ID: Palepaw and Fennelspot face Newtstream, a single-striped ginger molly with a lavender accessory. Rattlepelt talks to Shellstripe in the back. Newtstream says “We just need a little rosemary.”]

---

Palepaw knew she couldn’t handle the meeting with AshClan without Rattlepelt and Fennelspot backing her up. Their strong presences gave her the courage she needed to keep her head high as she spoke with AshClan’s representatives.

Since the issue involved using trees near the border for medicinal purposes, Newtstream, AshClan’s cleric, was there. She was a bright ginger molly that reminded Palepaw of sun-dappled amber or rich honey. Shellstripe spoke with Rattlepelt to the side, but Rattlepelt constantly glanced Palepaw’s way, ready to help her apprentice if need be.

“I can understand your position,” Palepaw said, using words that felt too big in her mouth. ��RippleClan’s ocean access makes it easier for us to get important resources. I don’t see why we can’t allow AshClan to harvest some of the trees in our territory, at least until spring.”

“You’re very kind, Palepaw,” Newtstream purred, bowing to the young mediator. “AshClan relies heavily on bark for our medicine in the winter moons.”

“Just don’t over harvest,” Fennelspot warned. “We don’t have many willows by our share of the river to start.”

“Despite what you may think, I do care about RippleClan’s health,” Newtstream huffed. “Our caretakers will be careful.” Palepaw cocked her head slightly, glancing at Fennelspot, but the cleric was silent.

“Well, we can have our caretakers meet you by the river and escort you in collecting willow bark,” Palepaw continued. “Would you meet them tomorrow at sunrise?”

“Perfect,” Newtstream purred with a casual flick of her tail. “I just have one more request for you. May I have some of your rosemary?”

“Rosemary?” Fennelspot muttered. “I have a dry sprig or two left. Is this medicinal or spiritual?”

“It’s important,” Newtstream sighed. The twitch of her whiskers was more than enough to make Palepaw not want to question her. “Would you be willing to bring the rosemary to the meeting tomorrow morning?”

“I suppose so,” Fennelspot said. “I’m not using it, so there’s no reason to keep it.”

“Wonderful,” Newtstream said with another bow. “If that’s all, I’ll collect Shellstripe and return home. StarClan protect you both.” Newtstream walked over to Shellstripe, who was laughing with Rattlepelt. Fennelspot winced as Newtstream turned away.

“Do you not like her?” Palepaw whispered. Fennelspot tensed, as though unsure if he should answer.

“When StarClan decreed we would be a Clan,” Fennelspot explained quietly, “they gave the message to all the clerics. But when Newtstream and her mentor Darkkick returned home, she said she had seen no such vision. She supported Autumnstar, and Darkkick was exiled.”

“Why would she lie?” Palepaw gulped as Newtstream and Shellstripe returned to AshClan.

“I never understood it,” Fennelspot sighed. “If you have to talk to her again, keep your guard up. I don’t trust her.”

“If you don’t trust her, why are you giving her rosemary?” Palepaw wondered.

“Because what sort of cleric would I be if I said no?” Fennelspot said.

(Palepaw: 9, female, mediator apprentice, insecure, picky nest builder, never sits still)

(Fennelspot: 100, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Rattlepelt: 26, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

Puddlepaw realizes tom doesn’t fit who she is anymore.

[Image ID: Puddlepaw stands proud. Under her, it says LEVEL UP! MALE -> TRANS FEMALE.]

(Puddlepaw: 9, trans female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, morbid curiosity, oddly observant)

[cherry-clan]

palepaw i would die for you I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

first - last - next

[smallfire]

We see you, Opal, Your troubles are miles away We see you, Opal, And in our eyes you'll stay.

finally a proper ref for a baby boy who's getting bigger! many cheers and happiness for mister palepaw :]

[elementclangen]

Moon 235-Leaf-Fall

Shinepaw (10) hopes that Eaglepaw finds his way back to the Clan.  She’s not sure what life will look like without her brother by her side.  However, the apprentices’ den is still full because Xhosa’s (103) kits have been made apprentices!  Streampaw (6) is apprenticed to Spotfoot (16).  He hopes he’ll do something to impress the Clan on his first day.  Maybe he could catch a big fat rabbit?  Or chase off a fox!  That’ll show the Clan he’s the best apprentice anyone’s ever seen!  His brother, Almondpaw (6), is a little more reserved.  He’s apprenticed to Vaxxstreak (121).  With so many apprentices and so few powered warriors, a lot of powerless cats are ending up with powered apprentices.  It’s challenging to train them to control something they themselves don’t understand.  Primcrest (77), unlike her son, does enjoy having kits around camp. She’s reminded of just how cute they are because of Nettlekit (4).  Xhosa, on the other paw, is a bit fed up with all the young cats. She thinks that Skippaw (10) is a rumor-monger and that Palepaw (14) is too stuck up. The kits have decided that they are obsessed with Amberwhisker (94).  Lilackit (2) loves climbing all over him and Rootkit (2) charms him with his big green eyes. Almondpaw is trying to get to know his mentor and tell him a story, but Vaxxstreak is noticeably distracted.  Maybe because he’s old.  Apparently, not every cat loves Bluepaw (10).  Shinepaw is telling jokes about her.  Brightpaw (10) understands that her friend is just stressed after the loss of her brother, but she wishes she would be a bit nicer to her siblings.  The fearsome foursome are still quite close, and Frostpaw (10) feels most like herself when she’s around Bluepaw.