Post by ▌LARKLEAF on Sept 9, 2013 7:15:10 GMT -5
Everybody's been stared down by the enemy Fallen for the fear, done some disappearing, Don't run, stop holding your tongue. Larkleaf 53 moons · female · pineclan · medicine cat ∙ bi ∙ image
appearance
[li]Larkleaf's Habits
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[li]Larkleaf's Positive Traits
- Observant.
- Knows her limits.
- Honest, (sometimes brutally).
[li]Larkleaf's Negative Traits
- Stubborn.
- Indecisive.
- Overthinks.
personality
- History: Nightstorm was a newly christened warrior when he met Anipaw. At first the cheerful apprentice got on his nerves, for he took his role as a warrior very seriously. After many attempts at trying to impress the importance of training hard on the young she-cat, he finally gave up. The two had an interesting relationship for a number of moons with many ups and downs, but when Anipaw became Anifoot, Nightstorm was the one cheering her name the loudest. It was a slow process but Anifoot finally mellowed out and the pair were fighting less and less. Then one day a patrol came back looking decidedly ragged. It was Nightstorm's first border skirmish, and when he returned Anifoot was waiting to help lick his scratches clean. Seeing each other in this new light was what sparked their romance. Moons later the mates finally decided to try for kits, their joy becoming abundant when Anifoot's belly expanded more.
Several weeks into the pregnancy, Anifoot was retired to the nursery, as her large stomach was making it impossible to finish her warrior duties effectively. Lazily lounging with the other queens, a frantic apprentice burst into camp, yowling, "Nightstorm is dead!" It was with a jerk of horror that Anifoot was awake. Grief gripped her with unnatural force when she learned of the python attack that took her mate's life. The panicked she-cat quickly went into premature labor.
Overall, the medicine cat was successful with keeping most of Anifoot's kits alive, the only deceased youngling a still-born male. The queen was saddened by the death of her last-born, but quickly averted her attention to her two alive kits, Lark-kit and Privetkit. Both were females, and both were unhealthily small.
Four moons into kithood, Privetkit fell victim to kitcough, and spent most of her nights in the medicine cat den, being cared under Boaleaf's watchful eye. Lark-kit often found herself pestering the healer of PineClan, questions like, "What does that herb do?" or "Where do you find these?" Boaleaf found her wonderings quite amusing, and answered with a warm smile, only growing annoyed when the kit stood in the way. After a moon of care, Privetkit was declared okay, and was put back into the nursery with her mother.
Two months later, Privetkit and Lark-kit were old enough to be named apprentices. PineClan's leader dubbed the two Larkpaw and Privetpaw, Larkpaw walking the path of a medicine cat, and Privetpaw that of a warrior.
Determined to finish her training faster than any other, Larkpaw pushed through the knowledge of herbs and berries, the care for frantic or depressed felines, or even the deadly herbs to put a cat out of it's misery. Boaleaf was surprised at her apprentice's eagerness, but quickly took it as a good thing, and talked faster about the information, much to her trainee's gratification.
Six months into her training, Larkpaw was wandering the pine forests, searching for Butterfly weed, her steps careless are she relied on her nose. It was with an excruciating pain shooting up her left foremost leg that she yowled for help, her cries growing more agonized as she found herself unable to move her limb. The snap of bone confirmed her thoughts, she had broken her leg. A patrol eventually found her, unconscious from the unbearable amount of pain. They carried her as carefully as they could, leaving her at Boaleaf's den to be taken care of.
Larkpaw went through four moons of care, various herb concoctions and physical training filling up the gap of time. It took a long time for the bone to heal, and when the day came, she was greeted by the clans with cheers and affectionate licks. Her left leg is still twisted, from the healing becoming shifted slightly.
A moon later, Larkpaw, at the age of one year and five moons of age, was accepted as a medicine cat, boasting the new name, Larkleaf.
Many a moon past without trouble, but the day came when Boaleaf went to join the ranks of StarClan. Larkleaf accepted that it was time for the elderly cat to move on, but she was still grief-stricken, a wail escaping her maw when she saw her deceased mentor.
No longer titled as a medicine cat apprentice, Larkleaf has only had to treat snake bites, and small scratches. She lacks in experience, but still remembers her training as if it were yesterday, almost as if a StarClan warrior is guiding her along.
- Family/Relatives
- Anifoot - black she-cat with white underbelly - alive
- Father: Nightstorm - a primarily black, brown and white tom - deceased
- Brother: Sunkit - a brown tom with a white triangle on nose - deceased
- Sister: Privetpelt - a black she-cat with white points - alive
- Image Credit: jsome1 of flickr
- OOC Name: mint
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background
[/div][/td][/tr][/tbody][/table][/div]larkleaf (n.) the state of being entirely antisocial. Fog rose like walls around the camp, encasing the cats inside like birds in a barred cage. Reaching inward with tendrils of grasping mist, the layers of fog slowly advanced in a uniform line, obscuring everything behind it's murky veil. Only the medicine cat's den was free of the fog, a small semi-circle of clear air that had yet to be tainted with the strange mist. The PineClan cats huddled with pelts of fur brushing against each other, jaws opened in unspoken words, watching with wide eyes as it bared down on the camp with unusually ferocity. In that moment, the hue of the fog changed from ivory to crimson, as thick and deep at the very blood that ran beneath the cat's pelts. Seeming to almost drip with the red blood, it gave one last push inwards, and then, like the morning dew, it was gone. Vanishing like the sun behind a cloud. It was with a sickening chill that she woke, the smell of fear-scent clogging her senses. Larkleaf's breath was nothing but harsh pants, pants that she was glad were there - if not barely. Everything remained vivid within her mind, the terrified yowls banging on the fringes of her brain as the dream remained, carved into her memory for her to remember. Panic washed over her and she inhaled sharply before leaping from her messy bed of moss, small pieces of the green fungus clinging to the tendrils of her pelt. She needed to busy herself, to find anything to divert her attention would spare her a headache. Larkleaf turned to her stash, sorting through herbs and rearranging already delicately placed flowers. She would have to tell the other medicine cats about what she saw, and hopefully, they would have some answers to her horrifying dream. It was with a jerk and pure paranoia that the she-cat would turn when she heard movement outside of her den. Pale moonlight filtered down through the bracken walls and she would clear her throat, a quiet, indirect signal to the feline outside that she was awake. The medicine cat would stare, eyes wide, and she held the urge to gasp with shock when she was greeted. "Larkleaf, I've got a stomach ache that's keeping me from falling asleep." Vocals tainted with tiredness, the voice called from around the bracken barrier, slowly weaving around the pile of herbs she had so carefully arranged. The medicine cat answered, cutting her words down to the bare minimum, as she usually did, "Come." Her voice shook, weakened as her mind was still occupied with the dream StarClan had sent her. The feline entered her den, cringing as his stomach sent another bolt of pain along his spine. Careful paws avoided the array of flowers, herbs, and berries that were laid on the floor, part of Larkleaf's moonly herb assessment. "Bayberries or sweet-gum?" Larkleaf inquired, her paws shuffling through the leaves. Everyone always chose the berries. |  words 492 tags n/a notes n/a |
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