Wildcry

A fierce lilac caramel ticked tabby she-cat with a single amber eye.

• Wildcry is a she-cat cloaked in the very wilds of Thunderclan’s forested kingdom. The base of her coat is ticked blend of  taupe hairs in a caramel cast, its subtle intensity lightening to a delicate fawn towards the base of her neck, chest and belly. While stripes are absent from her coat, the slightest flush of darker stain the front of her hocks. Perhaps the most bold attribute to her ticked, agouti coat pattern is the bold line that starts from the crown of her brows down the length of her back ending at her tail tip. That same bold color paints the very tip of her ears.

• Beneath her primeval coat resides a cat of stubborn athleticism. Even old age hasn’t slowed the she-cat down, as she has taken great strides to preserve her fitness should need call for it. Well-defined muscles sculpt her lithe frame, moving with an almost youthful fluidity, practiced and carefully with a more or less even stride.

• From the visage of her face, sits a frame of angles and refinement. High cheekbones carve upwards against her face, while a stern jawline does little to hide the large fangs that peek from her dark lips. Long white whiskers, a few poking out at odd angles, frame her dark pink nose. The only noticeable flaw in her countenance is a single stare coming from a single eye, her left injured and lost. With a scar that could have been a trophy had turned into weakness, but that single eye hasn’t lost their spark. It glowers with a golden hue, vigilant should any threat loom over Thunderclan.

• Within the distinct line of heritage and blood does a cat truly shine, and within that mindset Wildcry reigns as a tempestuous force of nature. Like a flame that refuses to wither to cinders, Wildcry refuses to believe that her Fierceblooded nature is something to be smothered or hidden. Wildcry wields it with pride. No challenge is too great for the she-cat to not at least try, and while failure is a lesson in which to improve, victory is the end goal. She is unafraid to charge headlong into the fray, fangs flashing and claws unsheathed. When a threat calls, she answers with the reckless, primal yowl of her namesake and will defend her clan to her last dying breath, reflecting an unwavering resolve that remains to this day, unbroken. Like an unpredictable bolt of lightning, Wildcry strikes using her years of experience as a senior warrior with a tongue just as sharp.

• While her tolerance of cat and dedication to clan weighs in her every decision, Wildcry holds a deep prejudice within her heart. Both past grievances and an air of superiority scar her world view. It poisons any interaction towards anyone other than Thunderclan, regarding non-Thunderclanners with cold indifference in the best of circumstances, to utter distain or open aggression in the worst. Her hatred blooms tenfold towards non-clanners – and will actively seek lethal methods of removing them from Thunderclan borders. And when the delicate veneer of peace must be maintained at Gatherings, she will take every opportunity to overhear conversations or undermine or embarrass her conversational opponents.

• Clan may be everything to her, independence is her creed. Even as an Elder she spends a great deal of time outside of camp. While she rarely wastes warrior resources, she is a solitary shadow prowling Thunderclan borders, visiting her favorite places, and using her time to practice her form and casually catches prey when able – and can for herself due to her clan status, although she occasionally provides for active queens and kits. She feels at ease and powerful underneath the shade of Thunderclan trees, using her natural coat and stealth to slink undisturbed through the foliage. While a wildness flows through her veins, she understands that true strength resides in her clan and the cats within it, and does her best to guide them to be the best she knows them to be if only they try.

• Ambition burns like a fire in Wildcry’s heart, an unquenchable blaze that drives her relentlessly forward. She yearns to etch her name into the very heartwood of ThunderClan’s history, to rise above the shadows of her past and forge a legacy that will endure for generations, as Bloodstar’s and her ancestors before. Her ambition is a relentless force, a guiding star that lights her path through the darkest of nights. She is a cat who refuses to be confined by boundaries, reaching for a future where Thunderclan stands above all. Nowadays her ambitions lie in her offspring, and her ability to provide pureblooded warriors for her clan. Like her, they will make Thunderclan great again.

• Born in the Moon of First Fishing (2016) 082

KITHOOD: 0-6 Moons

• Wildcry (Morelkit) was born alongside a tawny sibling to two senior warriors, her dam Rowanstone was a she-cat who admired the cut of her long-time friend, Shalefury, who was a tom who could trace his bloodline to the great line of Fiercestar(claw). Shalefury watched over his little family with pride knowing that his heritage would be passed down and saw to offer his guidance whenever possible, and could often be seen helping Rowanstone with her kits, who had a great calming effect over his temper whenever witness to their antics.

• Whatever mischief to be had in her kithood was frequently exploited, knowing full well to behave when watched by her sire, but frequently pushed the boundaries of her dam and oft found herself playing hide and seek with Rowanstone, keeping her on her toes but always appearing once mother began to fret. Morelkit did this enough that she tricked her dam one day into believing that she was playing and hiding in the moss. Using this opportunity she snuck out of the nursery, crossed the threshold through camp and stepped into the outside world.

• Morelkit was immediately smitten when the tall, imposing forest, but it wasn’t as scary as her sibling made it out to believe. Without a care, she marched through the foliage as a three month old kit, stopping only to battle a fat beetle as it flew by. Once the creature decided it didn’t want to be bothered by a kit and flew off, Wildkit continued onwards until she came across a massive creature… She knew it was dead because it wasn’t moving. It turned out that she had stumbled across a deer carcass as well as a duo of crows pecking at the remains.

• Before she thought much about playing with her new feathered friends, they scrambled curiously towards her. Yet before one could make a move, the small she-kit jumped fiercely at the pair. Tiny claws outstretched, she battled two greats foes, catching them as they flew away, cawing. Stuck between her claws was a single crow feather, she beamed with pride. Ignoring the soreness in her step and the bruises she received she made her way back to camp, where she literally ran into Shalefury, who promptly scolded her. Luckily the wounds were only superficial, and while the medicine cat fussed over Morelkit, the kit tried in vain over and over again to say she was alright. She had shown the feather to her sibling, who enviously congratulated her upon her return, which began their rivalry with one another. Needless to say, Morelkit didn’t have another opportunity to leave camp, much less the nursery without supervision. That is… until the day she was made an apprentice.

APPRENTICESHIP: 7-13 Moons

• Morelkit was apprenticed alongside their sibling as Wildpaw, after her daring adventure outside of camp. She was mentored to a quiet, and patient she-cat named Echoblur. Wildpaw seemed constantly distracted by everything around her, wanting to do everything all at once. Learning the Warrior Code felt different than hearing its interpretations from her parents, and felt as though her mentor was too soft in how she tried to explain them to her. Needless, Wildpaw held her interpretation of the Warrior’s Code to heart, learning it front to back.

• It was hunting – or rather the process of patience – that took the longest to instill in the young she-cat, who wanted nothing more than to leap at everything tasty in view. While out and about with her sibling, who was now named Alderpaw, paw they came across a hawk that felled a mouse and was pecking at it on the forest floor. There was a wildness in their eyes as they crept closer, but her sibling leaped first. They wanted a feather from an even larger bird to rub it in Wildpaws face. Wildpaw, however, wanted to bring the whole bird back to camp. Reckless in their pursuits, both apprentices could not outmatch the hawk, but her sibling came out worse for wear. At least they had a feather. But what was a feather when blood poured from their chest?

• Only leap if you plan to win. They hadn’t won – and her sibling paid the ultimate price for it. Wildpaw saw firsthand what witless recklessness could do to a cat – although she acknowledged that she was also cut from a similar cloth, she had proven time and time again that her luck hadn’t run out. Her sibling a moon later when the wound refused to heal. It was a slow death and time and time again she wished they would die quicker. At least to put them out of their misery.

• Acting out from her flared temper, Wildpaw acted hasty by attacking a rival border patrol who was insulting their clan. Words were exchanged to claws, and while the attack was warranted in her eyes, the cushy Thunderclan leader didn’t see it the same way. She was eager to prove herself in battle, and was adept at her mentors teachings while also being taught by her sire a few trademark moves of his own. Yet the leader suspended her from training soon after, and only when Shalefury tried to appeal did the leader relent a moon later.

• Wildpaw resumed her apprenticeship training, particularly excelling at anything requiring agility or strength. She was an avid tree-climber, using her lithe body to scurry up trees and raid low hanging nests and developed a taste for young, tender things. Delicacies well earned. Held back from her suspension, Wildpaw eventually held her vigil on her thirteenth moon.

WARRIORHOOD: 14-30

• She had earned her warrior name, Wildcry, of which she suspected from the loud yowl of war that sprang from her mouth when she attacked the rival clan patrol. She never regretted her actions, merely the fact that she was held back from becoming a warrior and suffered tick duty because of it. Now, as a warrior she was afforded her own freedom, and she came and went as she liked, hunting and providing for her clan in every way she knew how.

• Wildcry stalked Thunderclan territory, of which she came across an old badger set. Against her better judgement, she stuck her head inside the den, but the scent was old. Nevertheless, she laid loose debris in front of the den mouth. If the badger returned to the set, Thunderclan would know about it. Wildcry was part of a patrol of four sent the next day to investigate the burrow on her warning, and when they discovered the set had been disturbed, Wildcry called for action. This creature couldn’t be allowed to settle on Thunderclan territory and had best drive it out when they had the element of surprise.

• With a terrible yowl she sprang upon the badger, as her fellow cats were careful not to corner it. The badger faced their aggressors, but with a mixture of teamwork from the older cats, and the fierce spitting and aggression from Wildcry, they drove it away. Only one cat had gotten injured, a claw mark evident on their leg, and Wildcry offered to escort them back to camp while the other two of the patrol worked together to cave in the set.

• Other than the usual border and hunting patrols, Wildcry continued to act in the best way she could for her clan. They needed the fierceness of the old blood, and Shalefury was always quick to commend her for her acts of bravery – or foolishness, Rowanstone would comment in retort, but both her parents, now fresh in the elder’s den, watched with pride as their daughter grew.

SENIOR WARRIOR: 31-50

• Noticed and appreciated by Goldenstar, she was made into a senior warrior as she became older, bolder, and more experienced. Yet despite her status she found herself wanting more out of life, and seemed to constantly compare herself to those around her. A senior warrior was nice… but Wildcry wanted to make the ultimate sacrifice for her clan, and would… if only she half-admired any tom in the clan. Socializing was a bit of a chore, and thought instead to judge any tom by their merit alone. Perhaps in the only well thought out decision in her life, Wildcry approached Goldenstar and requested him to sire a litter from her. If she raised the leader’s kits, then her children would have the best start in life. While Goldenstar was a terrible bore, his strength and aura was palpable and soon Wildcry would be expecting kits.

• Nothing really seemed to slow Wildcry down, however, even though she was carrying. She found herself able to carry out her warrior tasks with ease – or at least shouldered the brunt of any discomfort by her duties. Yet one day when she was far out in Thunderclan territory, she was suddenly overcome by the pangs of labor. Alone in the wilderness, sheltered in the half brush of a thicket, Wildcry gave birth to three kits ( _____ , _____ , and a stillborn she-kit). It was a long and drawn out ordeal, and by the end of the day she had kits to account for, but she was in no condition to trek all the way back to camp. So she stayed. For two days to recover her strength.
• On the third day, however, there came a stomp of foot falls. A Two-leg trampled towards her, clicking at her as she curled protectively around her kits. When the Two-Leg reachd out for her, Wildcry didn’t control herself as she threw herself hissing and spitting at the creature. It stumbled back, but tried again – walking towards her kits instead. Furious she launched herself at its leg, biting until she tasted blood. She was kicked back, dazed – her thoughts were a red blur. The Two-Leg had retreated, but Wildcry’s only wanted to be with her kits.

• With two kits dangling by her maw, Wildcry entered camp on the fourth day with flecks of blood on her coat – only to walk onto her funeral vigil. Everyone in Thunderclan had assumed that Wildcry had died, but here she had returned, triumphant from the wilds, and told them the story of her harrowing encounter with the Two-Leg. Taking her place officially in the nursery, Wildcry became a dutiful mother to her two kits.

• From as soon as her kits could hear she told them stories of their bloodline, of courage and ferocity that outlined their heritage. Thunderclan was superior to any clan that shared their forest. Stories of Bloodstar, Hopestorm, and Foxbright, their Fierceblooded ancestors, as well as Starclan and their watchful gaze. When finally she returned to warrior duties she was eager to do so – and relished her time teaching as well as her usual tasks.

• Shortly after her kits were made apprentices Wildcry took a usual outing along Thunderclan borders. Scenting something that made her pelt stick on end, she followed the scent to a pair of non-clanners, filthy rogues who were busy snacking on Thunderclan prey. Without a second thought she flew in on the attack, giving them hardly a moment to defend themselves from her initial blows. Two against one, one trained senior warrior against two rogues. While the element of surprise had given her an advantage, Wildcry didn’t escape the encounter without injury. She had killed one of the rogues, the other fled – but Wildcry panted with blood dripping from her right eye where a claw had scoured her face. She returned to camp and was placed in the medicine cat’s care.

• Losing an eye was a difficult thing to manage. She understood that a loss of vision would compromise her abilities – this flaw could become her greatest weakness. But Wildcry, wanting to instill another important lesson into her kits, re-trained herself, seemingly alongside them. Her body needed to be trained, retaught the lessons and confidence of having two eyes might give a cat. It didn’t come naturally to her, but her sheer determination to return to her duties and be strong for her kin did and soon she was back to hunting and patrolling. To mind her small blind spot, she kept a patrol buddy close when borders needed to be remarked.

• The she-cat continued to be as asset to her clan and watched her kits grow into warriors. A part of her wondered if she should have another litter, but her duties kept her far too busy. During the most recent harshness of Leaf-Bare she dug deep into her abilities and tried to keep her clan fed. Whatever she could catch she brought back to her clan, allowing them to eat first and ate little for herself. She begun to get thinner and thinner. Perhaps there might have been consequences to her sacrifices, but then it was time for the prey that was promised, and freshkill fattened the pile again. She had watched and fought for the clanmates that had perished in the freeze, and finding herself less able to perform her duties to the best of her abilities, she relinquished herself to the Elder’s Den – her ambitions falling clear on her offspring.

ELDER: 51-

• Wildcry became an Elder not out of necessity, but of knowing what that flaw could mean to a group of unprepared cats on patrol. She didn’t need needless death on her paws. She could still more or less do as she pleased – and found herself drawn to the warming forest, secluding herself there for hours at a time while she hunted and explored at her leisure. She would always return with purpose, a day well spent, with the occasional morsel for an elder, kit or queen.
• And now that Wildcry seems to have more time to herself, she is taken again by the aspect of providing the next pureblooded generation. The problem is, however, Wildcry’s incredibly high expectations towards the toms of her clan. Goldenstar was gone and now she sets her sights elsewhere. When Wildcry turned 58 moons she started to actively determine whether or not the toms of her clan were worth her time – Stormfall managed to succeed in keeping her attention. He was a tom she practically grew up alongside of, being the same age, and rekindled their ‘comradarie’ and after a shared battle with a sleepy woodchuck in the Moon of First White ’20, she finally determined a sire for her last litter. Stormfall.

[60 – ]

• Wildcry made herself comfortable in the nursery a few days before her kitting. On a snowy day on the 25th of Long Night’s, Wildcry lay curled around the sole kit of her last litter, whom she named Rimekit, after how frosted she looked in the light of the dawn on her birth.

• Claws That Catch (12TL'20)
• Heralds We All [Gathering] (14CF'20)
• Nursery Watch (27FW'20)
• Reynard’s Fall (26RP'20)
• Rime Frosted Dawn (25LN'20)
• Striking back at the Sun (LG'20)
• The Wilds I Roam (24TL'20)
• When a Bird Takes Flight (7CF'20)

Paternal Great-Grandparents: Hopestorm & Foxbright

Grandparents: [Unknown]

Uncle: Gingerthrash

First Cousin: Quailcall

First Cousin Once Removed: Sunstrike

First Cousin Twice Removed: Robinkit & Finchkit