Post by lonepaw on Aug 3, 2010 20:00:16 GMT -5
Lonepaw of RiverClan
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Name: Lonepaw
Age: six moons
Gender: female
Clan: RiverClan
Rank: Apprentice________________________________________________________________Reason For Name: Lonekit's mother bore 6 kittens in her first litter, but five of them never managed their first breath.
Previous Names: Lonekit, Lonepaw
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One sentance description: Black tabby Oriental she-cat with gold eyes.
Appearance: Lonepaw is a fairly typical black tabby. She has golden eyes which blend in well with the rest of her appearance. She is more easily looked over than seen, but has her own good qualities. She is a very tall cat, and on top of that her lean and leggy physique gives the illusion that she is even taller. She has a disproportionately long tail which she is constantly moving, wagging it like a dog or simply twitching the end. Unless she is ill, it is in constant motion.
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Personality: Lonepaw is an average youngster, her hobbies include pouncing, running, playing, and sleeping. She is unsure of herself and still has a lot to discover. Lonepaw loves to spend her days on the move, she is not close to anyone, so the constant change is comforting. The longer she stays in one place the lonelier she becomes. She is a quiet soul who is slow to trust.
A bit on the skittish side, Lonepaw rarely lets her guard down for long, and would prefer to keep it that way. Her mother was not proud of her first litter, having lost all but one, and tried her best to keep the kitten a secret. Rumors flew about, though, as they often will, and the stigma of her mother's instability hurt Lonepaw's chances of really connecting with anyone. Now a young apprentice, Lonepaw hopes to learn who she really is. She is a loyal and honest cat, it justs takes her a while to comfortable.
Likes:
Sunshine
Running
Making friends
Dislikes:
Sitting still
Being alone
Rain
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History: Lonepaw was born in a litter of six, many of which were beautifully marked like her mother. She was a simple black tabby, the same as her father had been. Her siblings, however, never managed their first breaths, and her mother never recovered. The cat sank into a deeper and deeper depression, and every time she looked at Lonepaw she was reminded not only of her lost kittens, but of her lost mate, who was lost before the litter was born.
Lonepaw's mother could take no more, she finally made up her mind to leave, never looking back at the young kitten who was blissfully ignorant of her mother's condition. She was never heard from again, and Lonepaw was left on her own in a clan who barely knew of her existence other than gossip and rumors.
IC Example: A rustle could be heard as the youngling scurried across the ground, running between the trees and leaping over tall roots. The striped femme was on a mission; that bird would be hers. She pinned her ears to the back of her head as she ran, the muscles stretched over her fine legs expanding and contracting in perfect rhythm as the nimble young pixie crossed the terra.
The sounds of morning filled the air, the sun just rising above the horizon. A lone bird had attempted to catch the fabled morning worm when from nowhere Lonepaw had pounced, narrowly missing the winged beast. She was, of course, still much to young to pose much of a threat, but that did not lessen the thrill of the chase.
The finch almost seemed to be teasing the kitten, keeping its course low to the ground, flitting between the trees that it could have easily called sanctuary. Lonepaw's eyes narrowed on her prey, her young muscles beginning to fatigue. Finally the finch decided it had had enough, soaring upwards before finding a branch from which to look down at the would be predator.
Lonepaw leaped upwards, haunches springing like a rabbit as the kitten launched herself onto the trunk. She made a few feeble attempts to climb the thick trunk before her aching muscles gave out. She had been out running since before the rise of the sun, and her young form could not handle such exertion well. The femme to slide less than gracefully downward, landing at the base with a small thump. She looked up, watching as the finch flew off, laughing his morning song along the way.
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