fallowfoot ;; her mascara runs in constellations

[frosty]

Nicest sweetest
Utmost in everything
It's so charming, very charming
Well reckon play the fool no one's ill at ease
No one saw it coming
Cost you to keep me quiet

• Name |

The stars scream Fallowfoot

[/li][li]Gender | Her mother groomed a she-cat
[/li][li]Age | She's watched the stars for twenty-six moons
[/li][li]Rank | She's worked day and night to become a warrior
[/li][li]Clan | She was born, raised, resides in, and is loyal to FogClan
[/li][/ul][/s][/blockquote]

Beliefs| Fallowfoot is and always will be a strong believer in StarClan. From the moment she was kitted up until her twenty-sixth moon, the names and causes of deceased warriors chased each other around the interior of her head. They dance behind cold dark blue eyes, branding themselves into her memory. She could recite every name of every fallen warrior she'd seen carried into camp in alphabetical order, if she cared to.
Death had always been something Fallowfoot had tried to avoid, like any sensible cat. But naturally, some would fail and others would succeed. In her mind, Fallowfoot would always be one to succeed. She believes all her fortune has been granted by StarClan. And because of this, her religious beliefs have almost driven her mad. StarClan has become an obsession. They haunt her pawsteps and walk in her dreams. The fiercest battle Fallowfoot has ever fought in was won, but only because of StarClan's will.

Any cat who contradicts or questions the God-like essence of her warrior ancestors will, in her opinion, burn in the fires of the Dark Forest. But only if Fallowfoot doesn't shred them first. After all, there is absolutely no room for impurities, disrespecters, or non-believers in FogClan.

• Parents |

Cloudflower ((mother//deceased//NP)), Thrushclaw ((father//deceased//NP))

[/li][li]Siblings | Smoketail ((sister//deceased//NP))
[/li][li]Other Kin | As far as she knows, none.
[/li][li]Mate | She walks alone, for now anyways.
[/li][li]Crush | She follows no one, for now anyways.
[/li][li]Kits | She isn't, and doesn't wish to be, anyone's mother, for now anyways.
[/li][li]Apprentice | She hasn't, and doesn't wish to have, the burden of training a young cat, for now anyways.
[/li][/ul][/blockquote]

Appearance | To sum it up, Fallowfoot is a pale golden brown she-cat with barely visible darker tabby stripes and cloudy dark blue eyes.

Her coat is the color of sun baked sand, fallow in color. The color is more vibrant in some places than other, where it fades out to an almost off-white color. This off-white tips every strand of fur that covers her body, giving her a softer appearance. Her muzzle is tinged with this creamy white, as is her neck, chest, and underbelly. Tabby stripes only a few shades darker than her base color criss cross on her forehead and around her eyes. The stripes are the color of sunlit sap, some even twisting around her legs and dappling her perfectly triangular ears. On her legs, the stripes look more like tendrils of ivy. They seem to creep along her legs until they fade out completely on her chest and shoulder. Short in length, her fur does nothing to insulate her against the bitter winds of leaf-bare. Instead of being thick and velvety, Fallowfoot's fur is thin and wispy like clouds. Her pelt is soft and lustrous compared to the rough, wiry coats of most forest cats. Nothing as minor as a fragment of moss or a shower or dust will ever be found on this tabby's fur. She takes great pride in her simple pelt and keeps it as clean as possible.

Her eyes are yet another strength in her lifelong worship of StarClan. They are the color of the night sky. When Fallowfoot noticed them for the first time, she thought it /must/ be a good omen. StarClan must have intended it be so. More unique than her pelt, Fallowfoot's eyes are round in shape. If one were to look at them straight on, they would assume they were made of cobwebs. The dark navy blue base color is overlapped with a paler blue in a very peculiar pattern. The pale blue pigments weave through her eyes, appearing as cracked ice rather than a solid pool of dark blue. Rarely do they ever show emotion swimming in their beautiful blue depths. Fallowfoot's eyes are often cold and gelid. What ever they might lack, her orbs are nonetheless alluring and inviting.

With a small form, it's too easy to not wonder why she was given the suffix -foot. Her speed is immense, though she wishes with all her heart her agility was less and her battle skills were more. Her chest is very small. So small, a Twoleg could likely wraps both its forepaws around her chest and have their fingers touch. But her body is long and lithe, more suited to running than fighting. With long legs, Fallowfoot boasts about her incredible speed. In the heat of a chase, the golden she-cat appears to look like a river. All four legs move with the same economical ripple of muscles in perfect harmony. With a well-shaped head and a tail that looks like a ribbon of gold, it's hard not to stare in awe at the serene beauty she possesses. At the end of lengthy legs are tiny paws, with fur bunched at sable claws. One would think she appears far too delicate for a life in the wild. But beneath her soft golden fur and lithe frame are hard muscles. One must never underestimate the power of this young she-cat based solely on appearance alone.

Like generations and generations of cats before Fallowfoot, she has fought in more battles than she cares to count. The ripping of flesh and fur beneath pallid claws is an unfortunate guilty pleasure. After many bites, scratches, enemy warriors, healing herbs, spilled blood, and the howls of opposing cats shrieking as they tore through the undergrowth in a desperate escape of long, hooked claws, Fallowfoot has a surprisingly low amount of scars of her small body. The most noticeable is a jagged, white one that starts at the base of her neck and stretches along the length of her chest, twisting under her right foreleg and ending there. The majority of her pale fur has grown over it, but if one looks close enough they can identify it with ease.

Personality | Fallowfoot is known far and wide in the forest of the four Clans to be "the killer with the face of an angel". She has found arrogance in her good features, whilst ignoring her bad. In a perfect world, Fallowfoot imagines the sun and moon revolving around her. And in this arrogance, she assumes she is what young apprentices gossip about on their first Gathering with wide eyes; what kittypets label as a "violent ruffian"; what rogues boast about someday defeating. And because of this, she believes StarClan themselves shaped her into a near-perfect being. This was only the being of her obsession with the cats with stars in their fur.

StarClan is her ecstasy. It is her drug, her addiction, her guilty pleasure, her not-so-secret admiration. She would live and die for her warrior ancestors, as it was burned into her brain from the second she was kitted. StarClan is and ever will the be everything. They created everything, they owned everything, and they could just as easily end something as they did create it. So, why anger them with no belief? What PineClan do is really none of her business, but she can't help thinking they can be swayed into religion. She wishes nothing more than to vivify her life.

Fallowfoot is extremely loyal to those in a position of authority, especially Clan leaders. So loyal, it hurts. They were chosen and accepted by StarClan, so there's no room to question them. She is by no means nebbish, though. The adjective veritable would be more suitable. If given the chance to hold power, Fallowfoot would leap at it with claws extended. How she longs to sink her teeth into power, driven by her secret ambition. She has denied over and over again her loyalty exceeds her ambition, but that is not the case. But she hides it well, or what she assumes to be well. Though it is true she would never harm her leader, she would adore authority. With barely a whisker of recognition, she continues to keep her longing for power secret. She is self-titled as "the hardest working warrior in FogClan". If she could, Fallowfoot would trample, claw, spit, and shred the saying "the early bird gets the worm". No. The bird who put time and effort into hunting its prey will get the worm.

But Fallowfoot is pure. She is the image of purity. Her conscious is clear: everything is what it is because of StarClan. On the subject of PineClan, Fallowfoot spits in their direction. She will not listen to those... those non-beliving traitors that dare call themselves warriors. They do not deserve the forest, their prey, their lives. And she will stop at nothing to cleanse their spirits of the dark shadows that possess each and every one of them. Biased as she may be, Fallowfoot means nothing but harm to PineClan and all cats whom had the misfortune of being born into that wretched Clan.

Underneath all her beliefs, opinions, and addictions, Fallowfoot is a cat that will always do what is right. As stubborn as a tick, she is unnaturally persistent. After all, cats who are quitters are impure. She will stick up for what she believes in until her very last breath. Although she cannot stand being wrong, Fallowfoot makes confident choices in her decisions and does not let anyone talk her out of them. With a sharp tongue, she will insult another cat to tears if they rub her fur the wrong way. Because everything is effortless for her. She is always right because her judgments are made with StarClan in mind. Nothing can dampen her aggressive spirit.

Skills | From the moment Fallowfoot was born, she was a fighter. She worked hard and persistently through her apprentice training at fighting. Though she excelled in speed, she had to put a lot of time and energy training herself to become the fighter she is today. Born with long limbs, a lithe build, and short fur, her mother always envisioned her as the Clan's best hunter. But Fallowfoot loathed hunting more than anything. When warriors came back from war, her eyes glittered with interest. She had to learn how to fight like they did. Whatever the cost, Fallowfoot would work well until moonhigh perfecting her skills.

To put it simply, fighting is this she-cat's skill. But it hasn't always been like that. She boasted about her speed, and only after her warrior ceremony did fighting catch her interest.

History | {kithood}
Fallowfoot despised her parents.

She was born to Cloudflower and Thrushclaw--two well respected warriors in ForestClan. But they ran a tight family. There was no rooms for errors, in their minds. They expected nothing but the best of Fallowfoot and her sister Smoketail.

Alone, Cloudflower and Thrushclaw were fierce, loyal, and kind-hearted towards their Clanmates. But the moment their kits were born everything took a turn for the worse. Constant bickering followed Fallowfoot's birth. Day and night, she would hear them just outside the nursery hissing and spitting threats at each other.But she didn't understand why. She could even recall a time the pungent scent of blood wafted into her nose, late one night. It chilled Fallowfoot to her tiny kit bones. And, yet, the two warriors wouldn't see what harm they were doing to their kits.

{apprenticeship}

Fallowfoot rejoiced when she was told she would be an apprentice soon. That meant leaving the nursery. No more sleepless nights, listening to the searing words and frightening growls from the cats whom were supposed to love her with their lives.

Her and her sister soon moved into the apprentices den. At first, they were slightly intimidated by the older apprentices, whom looked at her and her sister like they were foreign pieces of fresh-kill. With harsh eyes and lacking the soft fur that framed Fallowfoot's kitten face, the she-cat felt out of place.

But that all changed. When her mentor took her out to hunt early within her first moon Fallowfoot blew the minds of all that defied her. She managed a breath taking sprint in pursuit of a rabbit as big as she was. After a grapple with the rodent, Fallowfoot ended its life and barely managed to bring it back to camp. With a triumphant glitter in her shining eyes, she proved to the cats who glared at her that she wasn't just another scrawny apprentice.

Tragedy soon struck when ForestClan split and began a perilous ten moon journey into unknown lands. With a heavy heart, Fallowfoot obeyed her parent's orders; her and her sister were to join the journey without question. So she obediently journeyed, training to be a warrior all the way, on the quest into distant territory.

Finally, the remnants of ForestClan reached their new home. Fallowfoot and Smoketaii's warrior ceremonies were delayed, as expected. They were both nearing sixteen moons by the time they earned their names. But that didn't bother Fallowfoot in the slightest. She enjoyed the extra knowledge.

{warriorhood}

Eventually, Fallowfoot blossomed into a well-respected warrior. With constant, harsh training she became one of the fiercest fighters. But no matter how much she trained, Fallowfoot was always quicker on her paws than she was on her claws. And for that very reason, her warrior name was Fallowfoot. Though she has no problem with her StarClan-given name, she only wishes her fighting skills were given recognition.

Barely a moon past, and Fallowfoot was hunting with her sister Smoketail. Her pale silver sister had just snapped the neck of a thrush dangerously close to the river. When a mouse waded in, Smoketail couldn't resist having a go at the unsuspecting piece of prey she would soon be sinking her fangs into. Fallowfoot could only watch as her sister plunged into the frigid depths. Obviously, Smoketail was not a skillful swimmer. She didn't even reach the mouse before her sodden pelt weighed her down. Fallowfoot assumed her sister was playing a nasty joke, and sat coolly while her sister sank to watery grave. Smoketail had always been a joker, carefree with a wondrous sense of humor. This hadn't been the first time her mischievous had "faked" her death.

Moons passed, and Fallowfoot felt lonelier than ever. She missed he sister dearly. After all she had endured in life: the long journey, working twice as hard to become a warrior, careless parents, her sister dies at the end of it all. She felt no grief at all when her mother was caught by a viscous pair of lost kittypets whom strayed too far from their Twoleg nest. But not everything was lost because StarClan was still on her side. Fallowfoot remains an arrogant she-cat, realizing that she has not lost faith in the tragedy of it all.

Thrushclaw died a few moons later from starvation. Though his eyes were hollow with sorrow and grief when a patrol discovered Cloudflower's still body, Fallowfoot always assumed they were never meant to be mates. She realized, with a choking gasp, that she should never have been born.

But Fallowfoot continues on in life with her tail and head held high. She will prove to StarClan that she is a warrior worthy of a thousand moons of mice and moonlight. She will be the greatest because she is powered by faith. And for once in her life, no cat will defy her

.[/size]