Shadowheart---Medicine Cat---PineClan

[shadow]

Shadowheart,

a Medicine Cat

of PineClan[/center]

Name |

Shadowheart

Gender |

she-cat

Age |

27 moons

Rank |

Medicine Cat

Beliefs |

Shadowflower does not believe in StarClan because she feels such a thing is impossible, since there is disease and despair in the world. She drew this conclusion during the journey of ForestClan, where she was exposed to these things to the fullest.

Clan |

PineClan

Parents |

Reedtail [np] and Thrushfur [np]

Siblings |

only child

Other Kin |

none

Mate |

not yet

Kits |

none living

Appearance |

[/b] [/center]

Shadowheart is an elegant black she-cat. Her fur is short, leaving her cold in leaf-bare, but providing enviable comfort in the hotter days of green-leaf. She stands tall but isn't actually all that large. She gives the impression of a larger size by maintaining good posture and never looking down. Her limbs are wiry, and her tail is fairly long.

Her eyes are a vibrant, almost neon green that seems to glow in the dark. They are slightly big in proportions with the rest of her face. Translucent whiskers droop slightly on her face. One ear is clawed to shreds, but the other works perfectly. She has a bit of hearing in the shredded ear, seeing as it's not quite as bad as it looks, but only loud noises are really audible with it. There is also a scar along her stomach.

Personality |

Determination is a key trait of Shadowflower. She has, since kithood, striven to ensure that things turn out how she wants them to. She's very goal-oriented and refuses to accept that things cannot be done until the situation is entirely exhausted of all possible solutions. If there really is nothing to do, she gets to work finding a way to make it less bad, whatever the situation may be.

She is not, however, brash or hotheaded. On the contrary, she actually quite thoughtful. Sometimes you can find her, on a lazy day, just sitting and pondering about her life, past, present, and future. If a major decision must be made she thinks it over until the last possible moment. Her means to reach her end never are questionable and are carried out without anyone even noticing, where possible. Her thoughtfulness makes her good at evaluating potential decisions for unforeseen consequences.

Something that bothers her greatly is being in the spotlight. She doesn't mind being loved or even adored, but praise of any sort is wasted on her. In her opinion it's completely worthless. She needs no praise to do good work. She also tends to get a little snappy when kits are mentioned, but usually masks it well for the sake of others.

Skills |

Shadowheart is a good medicine cat, definately, because she clings to what Honeyfur taught her for dear life. She knows exactly what to use and when. If a cat is in pain, her gentle nature allows her to be compassionate as she administers the proper cure.

Dealing with kits would be difficult for her. She could do it, but it would put emotional strain on her. Once the she-cats of the Clan begin having kits she will probably attempt to pass off anything to do with them on another medicine cat, especially the kitting. It will take many more moons for her to get over her miscarriage.

History |

The Great Journey didn't take place until Shadowheart was 9 moons old. She spent 9 moons of her life in the cruel environment that was ForestClan. From birth it was drilled into her brain that she ought to grow up and be a strong, fierce warrior and fight for her Clan. But somehow it seemed to miss. Her early kithood was full of looking at, playing with, and examining plants in an empty den she didn't know the use of. Nobody had ever told her their names, or why they smelled so funny, and she wanted some answers. An elder, Honeyfur, was more than happy to oblige.

Honeyfur had been the Clan's medicine cat until the stress forced her into an early retirement. She had never trained an apprentice and her old den was empty, the herbs lying untouched where she had left them. When she noticed young Shadowkit playing among them, she saw an opportunity. This kit could become her successor and keep her Clan from dying out entirely! Once Shadowkit was four moons old, Honeyfur decided to approach her...

"Hello there, young one." Shadowkit gave a tiny squeak and whirled around. A leaf fell from her jaws.

"H-hi, Honeyfur." she mewled nervously. The elderly she-cat chuckled and gave Shadowkit's ear a gentle lick.

"No need to be frightened. It's perfectly alright to be interested in herbs." The kit's eyes lit up at the unfamiliar word.

"Herbs?" she repeated, testing it on her tongue.

"Yes, herbs. They're used to help medicine cats heal cats who are injured or sick. Did you know I used to be a medicine cat?"

"No, I didn't even know what this place was for. How come we don't have a med'cine cat now?" Shadowkit's mind was whirling. A new Clan position had been revealed to her. This was a duty other than being a warrior, yet it had been made clear to her that warrior was the only option. Why were her parents hiding things from her?

Honeyfur sighed lightly. "Because our leader doesn't like medicine cats much, young one. He doesn't see the dire need for them."

Shadowkit gave a yelp of horror. "What if somebody gets hurt?!"

"They deal with it, now. I've grown too weak to perform my duty, and nobody can take my place."

"I could take your place!" Shadowkit protested. Honeyfur smiled. There they were, the words she had been waiting for.

"You would be willing to learn the ways of a medicine cat? You'd need to give up the ways of a warrior." the she-cat cautioned.

"I'll do it!" Shadowkit mewled as she bounced up and down in excitement.

Immediately after that, Honeyfur went to speak with Brownstar. The leader rejected the idea and ordered Honeyfur to stay far away from Shadowkit. Honeyfur didn't listen though, and tutored the kit in basic knowledge of herbs. Shadowkit, oblivious of the fact that they were breaking the rules, went through the remaining two moons of her kithood happily. Brownstar wouldn't allow her to train to be a medicine cat, though.

When she became an apprentice she was given the Clan's harshest, most blunt cat, Patchstorm. He worked her hard and made sure that she learned everything to the point where it was as natural as breathing. She finished each and every day more tired than the last. Honeyfur left her alone, partly because of how tired the apprentice looked, but partly because Brownstar threatened her with exile if she didn't stop instantly. It was on a solo hunting mission that she once again spoke with Honeyfur, not even half a moon into her vigorous training...

"Hello there, young one." Shadowpaw gave a start and whirled around.

"Honeyfur? Where've you been?!" she meowed with joy, licking the elder's ear affectionately.

"I tried to talk to Brownstar about you being my apprentice, but he said no and made me keep away from you. I'm truly sorry, Shadowpaw. Even now I'm going against orders." Honeyfur explained. The apprentice frowned thoughtfully.

"Well, you've managed to see me right now. Maybe you could teach me without Brownstar knowing." she suggested. Honeyfur's eyes widened in surprise.

"That couldn't work, what if somebody else saw?" she countered.

"We could meet at night." came the quick answer from Shadowpaw.

"How would you be able to use your skills?"

Shadowpaw opened her mouth, then closed it, her ideas faltering. Suddenly her eyes lit with an idea. "Once I've learned enough, I can arrange meetings with cats I notice are sick or hurt."

Honeyfur sighed, defeated and out of ideas. "You'd be risking everything. We could both be exiled for this. I don't mind, I don't have that much longer anyway, but you...you have a life to live. Are you sure of this?"

Shadowpaw's eyes twinkled. "We can't be exiled if we don't get caught."

As other cats murmured of rebellion, leaving ForestClan altogether, Honeyfur and Shadowpaw had a miniature rebellion of their own. For two moons they managed to meet and Shadowpaw caught on quickly, continuing with matching names to the herbs whose sights and scents she already knew so well. She learned how to handle minor things extremely well, and was starting to learn about more threatening ailments when tragedy struck. They were discovered.

By Patchstorm.

Shadowpaw had been returning to her den, having stayed out a bit after Honeyfur to look for herbs to replace the decaying ones in the medicine cat den.

"Worthless she-cat!" he snarled, pinning her to the ground. His large, powerful paws put enormous pressure on her shoulders, making her cry out in pain. "Shut up! Make another sound and you're fresh-kill. Now, tell me what you were doing."

Shadowpaw stared uncertainly into her mentor's eyes, confused by the conflicting commands. Her pause made him snarl and claw at her ear. "Talk!"

"Herbs...g-gathering...herbs..." she gasped out. His fury grew at this. He picked her up by the neck and hurled her at a tree.

"You little piece of foxdung! Trying to play medicine cat, are you? Well I won't have it!" As he spoke Shadowpaw stumbled to her paws, the exhaustion from being two types of apprentice making her situation even worse. The world was fuzzy and her head swam. The angry words barely even registered in her mind.

Patchstorm padded close to his apprentice, so close she could feel his hot breath on her face.

"She-cats, no matter how much you train them to play warrior, have one job. And that is to have kits." he hissed. She winced as spit flew into her face. "You clearly need help with that, little furball, don't you? I'll be glad to help you out."

These words registered just fine. She gave a pathetic mew and batted tiredly at his face, but her claws barely even parted his fur. The fuzzy world started to fade as he forced her down and climbed on her back...

Honeyfur found her, battered and bleeding, not too long after Patchstorm returned to camp with a smirk on his face and blood on his claws. Nobody questioned him.

The elder returned with cobwebs, marigold, and poppy seeds. She managed to prevent the apprentice's death, but nothing could remove her scars, physical or mental.

The meetings ceased, but Shadowpaw made sure to take extra time feeding the elders. Honeyfur would murmur questions and Shadowpaw would answer correctly with determined confidence. In this way she managed to learn how to treat a few more ailments, and by a moon later she had all the basic knowledge of a medicine cat.

She also had enough knowledge to know that she was pregnant.

It was hidden easily enough, though. A band of cats was breaking away from ForestClan, fleeing to start their own Clan. All she had to do was join them, and nobody would be any the wiser. Who had time for some apprentice when there was so much going on?

She traveled with the rebellious cats, and Honeyfur joined her. The old she-cat said she would rather die than watch the kit she had practically raised leave her, and Shadowpaw didn't protest. The journey was harsh, harsher than life in ForestClan, and cats were dying. There wasn't enough prey, was too much disease...no matter how hard she tried, Shadowpaw couldn't seem to find enough herbs and energy to save every cat.

She was noticeably pregnant two moons into the journey, but no cat really cared or asked about it. Shadowpaw was helpful, and that was all that mattered. But one seemingly normal day on the journey, she would lose the most important cats in her life.

Honeyfur walked beside Shadowpaw, the two staying close because each believed the other could need support at any second. It was almost comical. The two chatted about random things, like the strange herbs they saw as they went further or the uses they could have. They were discussing a sharp green thing that fell from trees and smelled nice when a growl sounded from a nearby bush.

Suddenly everything was happening at once. Honeyfur and Shadowpaw both tried to jump in front of each other, but Shadowpaw ended up in front. A badger ran out at the cluster of cats. Panicked yowls filled the air. The badger snarled and picked up Shadowpaw with its teeth, shaking her. The apprentice twisted and clawed at the badger's eyes, blinding it, but causing it to lash wildly in return. The claws reached Honeyfur, who had raced forward to help, striking her across the throat. A claw tore down the side of Shadowpaw's belly before the badger dropped her and ran off. Blood gushed from the wound and from somewhere else, and Shadowpaw lost her kits.

Everyone was a little bit nicer to Shadowpaw for the rest of the journey. Some cat who had stepped on a thorn remembered that cobwebs could stop bleeding, and that cat patched up her stomach. The almost-kits were buried beside a tree, and the journey went on. The simultaneous deaths of her grandmother figure and her kits left her a shell of herself. She continued healing cats and discovering uses of strange new herbs alone, but with none of her usual cheer and compassion. Time heals all wounds, though, and by the time they reached their new home she had a smile fore everyone once more.

Only one thing had changed, and that was her belief in StarClan. It had fled her entirely. How could there be a StarClan, when she had gone through so much when all she wanted was to help? When so many innocent lives were lost in the quest for freedom? When kits who hadn't even been born yet lost their lives?

Gingerstar's idea of a Clan of nonbelievers immediately caught her eye, and she joined without a doubt in her mind. The cats who remembered her medicinal skills during the journey made sure that she became one of the medicine cats. Gingerstar gave her the name of Shadowheart, for her resiliance and kind spirit.

After so many moons, Shadowheart was finally a medicine cat.

She does her duties with pride and satisfaction, glad to have finally claimed her rightful place in her Clan.

Role Play Example |

In this scenario, a young kit has just come in for a thorn in his paw. This post would be after the roleplayer of the kit posts with the kit exiting.

"Certainly, little one. Be careful now!" she purred as she watched him leave. He would be an apprentice soon, and a fine one at that. She couldn't help but wonder if her own kits would have made good warriors. Would they be cheerful and energetic, like the now-healed Fernkit? Or would they be more reserved, like their mother? They could have ended up terrible and cruel, like their father. That thought made her shudder. She'd rather see her kits dead than end up as vicious as that tom...

Shadowheart gave a quiet, bitter laugh as she realized that she may well have gotten her wish. That was past, though. She needed to be strong for her new Clan, the Clan everybody thought would perish. They still thought that. But not a single cat would die, not while she was able to stop it. These thoughts placated her, and she gave a contented yawn before returning to checking her stock of herbs. It was, after all, what she had been doing before little Fernkit had tumbled in.

[/size]
[/size][/font]