Whistlestar

[wolflover1458]

NAME: Whistlestar (Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest --> Whistlepaw --> Whistlefalcon --> Whistlestar)
GENDER: She-cat
AGE: 47 moons
CLAN: WindClan
POSITION: Leader


APPEARANCE:

PELT COLOR: Her small body holds quite a clash of colors. Her base color is a mix of orange and brown that is quite bright as well. She has lighter, tan areas around her eyes and mouth and on the bottoms of her paws and on her belly as well. She has large whiskers and paws, both looking larger in contrast to her size.
PELT LENGTH: Her fur isn’t to thick or thin, average rather than anything else. It grows thick enough in leafbare, but is still quite thin at other times. This is definitely useful to her, as it merits neither good nor bad points, just being plain average. Whistlestar knows about average, and she quite likes it. Bad things come with good things, but nothing bad has to come with average things, even if nothing good comes either. If bad things cancel out good things, than everything is mediocre anyway, so it might as well start out that way.
MARKINGS: Black stripes are on her face and legs, typical markings. Darker flecks, more brown than orange, appear on her pelt here and there.
EYE COLOR: Whistlestar’s eyes are a pale blue color not always seen, but still around.
BUILD: Whistlestar could fit in well in a Clan of smaller cats, perhaps because of her small size. She looks very much like an apprentice or even a kit, but not to much a warrior. Whistlestar can see the advantages to this, like pretending to be a lost apprentice or kit, but Clan cats always seem to think different things than she does. Her paws are relatively big, and she probably trips on herself more than any other WindClan cat does. Probably should have found a different Clan to join up, one where she might seem more like the actual Clan cats. It’s not likely they would have let her in though, and she does okay in WindClan, so it’s fine for her right now. She doesn’t have problems with being small, after all.

STRENGTHS:

She has very little physical strength, most of her strength is more mental than physical, because she is to small to be good at most things. Whistlestar does very good with short bursts of strength, in which she can dish out plenty of damage. As long as she isn’t tripping over her paws, Whistlestar is rather agile, and she does rather okay climbing up ledges, or even trees sometimes. She has rather sharp claws and fangs, which she likes to keep as long as possible since they are her best physical attribute. Still, any way you look at it, Whistlestar does rather poorly in the physical world. She is cunning enough to be able to make up for it.

WEAKNESSES:

She does poorly in most every physical activity. Her stamina, strength, and speed all suffer due to her small size, and her agility suffers because her big paws trip her up. She is also quite skinny, and used to hunger like any Clan cat should be. Whistlestar doesn’t always harbor sickness well though, and can often get sick in leafbare, especially when she’s starving. That’s dangerous for her because she’s already weak enough. Mostly, she just doesn’t do any fighting unless there’s a battle going on, or something’s attacking. Whistlestar has never play fought with her Clan mates, even when she was an apprentice and would have had a slight advantage with knowing everything already.

PERSONALITY:

POSITIVES:

• She is a very creative cat that is capable of thinking up all kinds of solutions for just about anything.
  
• A brave, sometimes even too brave, cat that doesn’t let what others think get in her way.
  
• Gets quite cunning, and loves to think of smart ways to get out of what looks like impossible situations.
  
• An outspoken cat that says what is on her mind, even if no one else thinks what she thinks.
  
• Can be quite stubborn, although in a good way by trying to help others with their problems by not leaving them alone and making them talk to her about it.
  
• Has a very, very large imagination that goes right with her creativity. She is always imagining how things could be and thinking up crazy and inventive ways to solve a problem, even when it isn’t needed. Sometimes she skips over the obvious looking for the eccentric. Her imagination and creativity are her greatest strengths, along with her cunning.
  
• Very firm in wanting to control her own life, instead of having someone else in charge of her. She doesn’t have a problem with having someone superior in rank to her, just likes to be in charge of herself in general.
  
• She isn’t shy in the slightest, or quiet either.
  

NEGATIVES:

• Can get overly ferocious, to the point where she might get herself hurt because she’s trying to hard to fight someone, usually she manages to keep a cool head though.
  
• Occasionally gets recklessly brave and does a lot of daring things to try and solve something, even if it is dangerous.
  
• Likes to trick others by pretending to be a kit or apprentice and other things like that. This can get annoying and be unnecessary, but she really loves it.
  
• Can get overconfident, or far to stubborn, and think that just because she isn’t some other cat doesn’t mean she can’t do something. Firmly believes you can do anything you want too, and can take that belief to far.
  
• Doesn’t like to let herself get scared by things, even if they are dangerous and she should be scared by them. She doesn’t fear the idea of supernatural beings either, even though she doesn’t like the idea much.
  
• Can be stubborn in a bad way as well as a good way, by not willing to let something go even if she should.
  
• Can be quite mean, even overly mean, if she really doesn’t like someone, which isn’t often, or thinks they really deserve punishment. Definitely not one to hold punishments to loosely, although if they are really minor, or she just thinks their silly, she lets them slide. Won’t tolerate killing or any other ideas though, but can still be pretty nasty if she’s in a bad mood.
  

LIKES:

• Greatly enjoys tricking other cats into thinking something that is not true.
  
• Always likes controlling her life, rather than having someone else telling her everything she should be doing all of the time.
  
• Finding creative ways to solve problems, whether or not the problem actually exists. She can never get enough out of finding ways to solve things, even if it is unnecessary.
  
• For better or worse, she doesn’t hate being tiny at all, but thinks that it is one of the best things ever. Even though her physical abilities suffer, she can do all sorts of things larger cats can’t.
  
• Prefers being around friendly cats to unfriendly ones, especially rogues or someone who won’t listen to reason, or doesn’t mind killing others.
  

DISLIKES:

• StarClan, at least a bit. She feels like some supernatural beings are trying to mess with her life, and wishes they would stop it.
  
• When cats die that she knows. Death in general can’t be avoided, of course, but it is far worse when you know the cat, which is part of the reason she doesn’t always have close relationships with anyone, because they tend to end unpleasantly.
  
• Doing strenuous physical activities is something she does not enjoy, mostly because she is no good at them in general.
  
• Cats that make fun of your for no reason. Those are the cats she would never wish to be mentors to shy apprentices, since they might push them too hard or be overly harsh in a mean way. Plus it is pointless to just be mean without a reason.
  
• Rogue cats she hates in general, mostly just because of her very short history with a rogue.
  

Fears:

One of her greatest fears is not being trusted by other cats. Whistlestar doesn’t like to live alone, even though she can stand it and enjoys having solitude, and she works long and hard to gain the trust of cats. She fears that one day she would do something incredibly stupid that would make everyone mad at her and even question her abilities. She hopes that day never comes, but still worries that it might someday. Whistlestar does her best to be fair and not give anyone reason to dislike her. Some cats will just not like you, and she gets that, but she spent a very long time before she felt like WindClan actually trusted her, and losing that trust would hurt her deeply.

Another fear of hers is drowning. Whistlestar nearly drowned at one point in her life, and it is not something she would wish to repeat. While she doesn’t have to much of a problem near water, she doesn’t like getting to close to deep water, because there is always the chance you will fall in and not come back up. She nearly drowned in her youth, and her beloved mentor, Falcon, died in a river, so water is one thing she has some issues with, and Whistlestar would be quite glad to never get to close to deep water. This makes her quite glad it was not a RiverClan patrol she ran into.

Habits:

Whistlestar often sneaks out of camp and tries to get off on her own. She can’t stand the fact that being leader means you get stuck in camp listening to all the fun everyone else gets to have. This is one of the things she simply doesn’t understand about the Clans. Since the leader is the leader and has nine lives to lose, they should be able to go out more. She doesn’t get herself in danger, but she loves to go out by herself and just be by herself. Sometimes no one wants her to, but she’ll find some way to sneak out.

She also tends to feel somewhat protective, especially over the defenseless, and likes to know how the Clan is going. She doesn’t want a report every ten minutes or even every half-hour, but Whistlestar does like to know what is going on and to be able to solve problems. Sometiems she goes around to see how everyone is doing and make sure that everything is going okay. She does like to have bad things happening, and if something is wrong she likes to know about it. She hates thinking that something might be happening, like a conspiracy against someone or even a specific Clan and to not know about. Whistlestar likes to keep herself updated so she can try and figure out if something big is happening that could be potentially dangerous. She does not, however, care that much about the everyday problems like their siblings being mean, or they apprentice being difficult. Nor does she likes having to worry about food in newleaf or greenleaf, since those are the times when prey should be plentiful.

Goals:

Whistlestar’s only real goal was never to be leader or deputy or even get power, she just wanted to be trusted by the Clan. Apparently she achieved this, and she is quite happy. There is nothing else that Whistlestar wishes to accomplish with her life, and she would be quite content to just let things be the way they are. There are plenty of things she could strive for, but she has already achieved what she really wants.

Dreams:

Her main dream is to always be faithful to her Clan and never give anyone reason to doubt her. She also wants to live in WindClan happily for the rest of her life. As long as everyone thinks of her nicely, Whistlestar needs nothing else. She dreams of always being faithful to her Clan, and hopes that she never wants to turn against her Clan. As weird as the Clans can get sometimes, Whistlestar likes living with them, and plans to always do so.

Secrets:

She usually keeps the secret of her past to herself. A lot of the younger cats in the Clan don’t even know she wasn’t Clanborn. Whistlestar doesn’t like to just blurt out her past to everyone, not that she’s ashamed of it in the slightest, she just doesn’t want to tell everyone everything she has done in her past and everyone she has met. If her really feels the need to tell someone, she will, but otherwise Whistlestar prefers to keep her past to herself.

RELATIONSHIPS:

MOTHER: Unknown kittypet, since Whistlestar knows nothing about her old family, she isn’t even sure what her parents looked like or how many siblings she has.
FATHER: Unknown kittypet
SIBLINGS: Unknown kittypets
MENTOR: None, although she was taught by Falcon before reaching the Clans, and by Redfeather for a brief period.
CRUSH/MATE: None, nor would she ever really want one.

HISTORY:

I was actually born a kittypet, I believe. I can say this with some certainty because I have a vivid memory of a mother and a father, and twolegs. No idea how long I was actually there, and when I started fending for myself, but I know that I was born a kittypet. Memories of my younger life are a bit vague, and I believe I spent most of my time outside, playing with my siblings. That would always be fun. Difficult, though, being the smallest. I always was smaller than everyone else, wasn’t I? Yes, and they could punch me down fast as they please. Always picked on me and pushed me around, but I always stayed around them anyway. I have no idea why I ever put up with that kind of nonsense. Today I never would of. Of course, I was a kit then, so that could always be why, couldn’t it? Don’t ask me what my mother, father, or siblings might have looked like, or how many siblings I had, because I really don’t know. Not everyone can remember that kind of stuff, it isn’t to nice to ask them if they don’t know. Never assume someone knows something, find out first. It’s harder to embarrass yourself that way. Good lesson to know. Anyway, I spent my young life there. Sometimes I even slept outside, which is part of the reason I’m not entirely sure about the kittypet thing.

Okay, I lied a little, I do know how old I was when I ended up leaving my home, I just didn’t know right away. While I’m not entirely sure how I got away from there (and I’m glad I did, that place was terrible when I think back), I believe I might know the gist of it. Envision a few kits playing in grass, with only a few trees around. The larger ones are play fighting while the tiny one, the one that looks only a little bigger than the others did when they were born, is sitting off by the side, watching them. One of them comes at her, and she gets knocked over. Upset a bit more than usual because they keep doing it, the kit goes off to get away from them. She looks into the shiny things that keep them enclosed, seeing all the many holes in them, and thinking about all the things those didn’t keep out or in. There’s a mouse outside, nibbling at seed in the grass. Intrigued, the kit tries to reach at it. The mouse is startled, and looks up. Unable to reach it, the kit tries to squeeze through one of the holes. Finally succeeding, she makes a dash at the mouse, or flees. She follows it further and further until she loses sight of it after a while. Then she looks around and finds herself lost, and unable to get back. As the only one to fit through those holes, no one would be able to come get her. Done envisioning? I think it went something like that, anyway.

As stated above, I chased a mouse and then got lost in the forest outside. As a kit, scent trails weren’t big on my list of things to follow, and I ran too complicated to be able to follow it back anyway. I wandered around lost the rest of the day, and curled up miserably in a little hollow in a tree truck at the end of the day. All I succeeded in doing was getting even more lost than before. No idea how I survived that night, guess I was just lucky. By the next day, I was hungry, and pretty thirsty. I wandered around until I ran into a pond. It was pretty filthy, at least to my standards then when I was used to water ridiculously clear. Still, I was to thirsty to think about it, so I bent down to lap it up, and fell over the way-to-high ledge into the water. I splashed around, squealing the whole time, crying out for help. That isn’t how a kit expects to get a drink, after all. Luck again: I was suddenly yanked up out of the water and placed on the ground, maybe a little to harshly. The cat sat there, looking at me. I didn’t know he would be the most important cat in my life at the moment, or that the only reason he found me was because he was headed that way anyway. It just happened that way, which was good for me.

He asked me what my name was, but all I managed was a high-pitched squeal, out of fear and almost drowning. He found that amusing, and said he would call me Whistle since a squeal isn’t much of a name (No, I have no clue what name I was born to anymore). Then he told me his name was Falcon. Some time after I started living with him, he said his full name was Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, but that was to long to really be a name. I agree, since a long name like that is hardly useful. If you were warning him about danger, by the time you finished his name, trouble would be there already. For that reason, he was Falcon for me, and I was Whistle for him. That doesn’t mean long names can’t be fun or anything, of course, so don’t thinking that.

Falcon took me in and raised me as his own daughter. The first problem was my age. He had taken me to his home, a hollow area in between tree roots, and told me to rest. It was pretty small in there, but I was way smaller. I dozed off, but woke at the smell of vole. Falcon gave me m first taste of wild animal, and I savored it. Afterwards, he took one look at me and asked if I was a moon old or what. I said no, I was sure I was older. Falcon asked me to think through my life to find how old I was. I had no clue, but I went though every day of my life I could remember, and every night I could remember seeing the moon and said what it looked like. A long time later, Falcon said he was pretty sure I was 4 moons old, tiny or not. Whether or not that was correct at the time doesn’t matter to me, I’m going by what Falcon said.

From then on, Falcon started to teach me, and I was eager to learn. Being hungry for the first time since you were born and had only ever know being full really makes one want to learn. He taught me to hunt, to hide, to stalk, to see the near invisible, to hear the hard-to-hear, and to sniff out dull scents. Nearly every wild-living cat learns those skills, but I was the only one to learn from Falcon. He was patient with my many weaknesses, trying to improve them but let me use my strengths as well. Despite my eagerness to learn and his willingness to teach, we had trouble: me. I was to small to have any real speed, stamiina, or strength. I probably should have made up with that in agility, but my big paws for in the way of that. I was bad at fighting because I was small, weak, and clumsy. I was bad at swimming because I was weak. I was bad at sprints and long runs because I was small and weak. I was bad at hunting because I was weak and clumsy. I was bad at… well, you get the idea I’m sure.

At this point you may be asking if I was kidding about the strengths thing. It depends on hoe you look at it really. In the physical world, I was toughing it out to be even mediocre. It’s the rest of the “worlds” like mental and spiritual I really had something in. I’ve always had a great imagination, and I’ve always been good at finding the possibilities of a situation, especially those everyone else manages to overlook. Falcon liked that part of me, and he always encouraged me to keep using it to find the possibilities everywhere. Like any good student, I was pleased to do so, and I did. That’s my main strength right there, imagination and creativity. So many cats lack those two things completely essential to my life. I often found things Falcon overlooked, and it confused me at first. I saw him as everything that was good, with no faults whatsoever. I was wrong, and that’s when I started to find that out. Then I started training myself in those strengths just as much as in my weaknesses.

After a few moons, I had been taught all the basics from my loving mentor. All there was to do was improve on them. Somewhere around that time, I started thinking about what it would be like to have a unique name, one no one else has ever had, like Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon. I never called him that, but it was still Falcon’s name, and it got me thinking. I asked him about his name one night. He said he had been born a loner, and lived with his siblings for a while, but left when he was older, he though around 12 moons. He had named himself, because his old name reminded him of his family who he was leaving behind. He saw a bird moving faster than he would of thought possible, hurtling towards its prey. A feather flew off and landed right next to him, and so he named himself, but decided to go by Falcon. The next day I went off by myself to do a little hunting and think. While I didn’t want to lose the name Whistle, I wanted to have a unique name. I stayed out, then came back with a plump shrew and announced that if Falcon was Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, then I was Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest. Falcon smiled at that and said that if I wanted to be Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, I could be, but he would still be calling me Whistle. That was exactly what I had wanted from him too, which is nice. Those few days after that were some of the days when I was happiest, even if they weren’t the best days.

I was still a runt though. Even after a few moons, I looked like a kit though I had outgrown that stage already. It was something I Had to cope with, but it did cause a few problems. The one thing I really wanted to learn was to fight. I demanded practice whenever we had time and energy for it. I had little rest over the next moon because I wanted to learn. If Falcon was to tired, I would tear up plants or sticks. I found I had the most strength in short bursts of anger. Those went away pretty fast, but it was when I actually fought well. I remember the day we found a strange scent in our little “territory.” A lone cat could be a threat, so Falcon said we were going home and we were staying there when we didn’t need to go out, to hunt, get a drink, or something similar. The scents continued through the next few days. We didn’t see the cat until a while later, when we were both out by the tree that held our den. This cat came out of the shadows, and he smelled just like the scents.

He wasn’t really that big of a cat, but he was to me. Falcon was tall, but he was skinny like me, which probably stunted my growth as well. This cat seemed way healthier than us. Falcon asked him who he was, and the strange didn’t answer but asked why Falcon had a kit with him. That made me mad. I wasn’t a kit! No one says kit to me anymore; I look like a young apprentice to them even though I’m not. That gets me mad, but I prefer that to this. My whole body bristled, and I lunged at this strange cat. Falcon interceded and took the blow he aimed at me. The two of them started fighting, and I was standing there watching. Falcon went down to this other cat, but not before he did his damage too. The flung him aside and stared right at me, breathing heavily. He was bleeding quite a bit, but he had hurt Falcon. That threw me in a rage. Despite my size, I flew at him. The surprise of the stupidity of that action and his injuries kept him from reacting. I knocked him over and bit right into his neck. I think Falcon was yelling at me to stop, but the pounding in my ears made it hard to hear. Tiny me suffocated that stranger right there. First cat I ever killed and all I felt was satisfaction.

Falcon expected remorse out of me for the poor stranger. Once I figured that out, I tried to fell it. I always aimed to be what Falcon wanted me to be. Remorse proved impossible for me, though. Al I felt was the satisfaction of ridding us of that threat. It was right then that something happened between me and Falcon. A gap appeared that I don’t think he ever noticed. I didn’t need to be what he wanted out of me, and sometimes I couldn’t be. That thinking ended up separating us in a hard-to-see way. I acted a little different. I tried to do what he wanted, but it wasn’t the same. After a while, Falcon seemed to all but forget the incident with the stranger. The scents and wounds were gone, and we were to busy for that anyway.

Some higher-up being didn’t seem ready to forget it, or forgive me until I actually felt sorry for it. First it was just little things. At that time I never got the feelings any supernatural being was out to get me. Prey was harder to find than it should have been, and the pond started to dry up when it didn’t rain for a few days. It’s not like it was really anything that affected Falcon or me to much. It wasn’t until the tragedies affecting use for steadily worse I started to suspect anything. We both caught some sickness of sorts, and that made us start starving. Even after, hunting was hard. A downpour filled the bottom of our little den with water and a tree limb fell down that trapped us inside until we managed to push it out of the way. That was about when I decided someone was displeased with my actions earlier and wanted something from me.

I’m not scared of supernatural beings. When I was alone one day, I looked up at the sky since I assume that’s where they are, and dared them to throw their worst at me. I could handle anything anyone wanted to throw at me, and I wasn’t going to change how I felt either. For a little while, nothing horrendous happened. Some of the old things even stopped happening. It might not have been some “other” beings; it could have just been bad luck. When a storm blew in, we stayed inside to avoid it. Falcon told me about how he came from here after a long journey. He left his family far behind. They lived near a place where cats lived in Clans, and took care of each other. Sometimes Falcon had said to his mother he would be a Clan cat one day. Never happened, but not everything can. Falcon said that one day he wished he could go back there. Since he didn’t five me a good reason, I wondered if he missed those Clan cats or something. Falcon said we could go there someday, and he explained his trip to me, in the hopes I could find my way should I ever want to leave him.

I didn’t plan to leave him anytime, anywhere. Someone else seems to do some planning though. Fate and all that stuff just walk along. I don’t want to explain the events that led to it (though it wasn’t my fault if you’re wondering), but Falcon sort of drowned in a river. I got there soon enough to see his body following the current. Someone was clearly out to get me at this point if they hadn’t been before. I looked up at the sky and asked if this was the worst they had to throw at me. It was pretty good, but it wasn’t going to stop me from anything. I don’t need someone else trying to control my life, thank you. I stayed alone for a while, tucked under that tree quite safely, but less than happy. I remembered Falcon saying how he wanted to go to these Clan cats of his. He had even told me the way, just in case. Without Falcon there was nothing keeping me there anymore, so I decided to make a journey.

Falcon must have failed to just distance well, because hat journeying took a long time. I think it was close to a full moon of wandering around, trying to find a place I had never been. While that shouldn’t work out well, I eventually found myself in a place that seemed like what Falcon had described. In fact, there were a lot of scents around here. Silly me, wandering into the territory of other cats. I was looking for them anyway, but it wasn’t a bright thing to do. One of those WindClan patrols found me. Now that I think back, they must have though I was a lost apprentice or kit from another Clan. I was 10 moons at the time, but I clearly looked way younger to other cats. One of them was a new apprentice, and he was bigger than me. The leader of the patrol, I suppose, asked me what a kit like me was doing out. Not sure if that was meant to be an insult or if he meant it, but I informed him that I was 10 moons and capable of taking care of myself. He asked me what my name was and what I was doing there. I said I was Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest, trained by Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon, here to seek out the cat Clans.

The looks on their faces suggested they only heard Whistle of the Meadow Lark before I lost them. He asked me to say it again, slower, and I repeated it. They still didn’t seem to get it, so I said they could call me Whistle and the one who had trained me Falcon. That seemed to work, but he asked me what I was doing because I evidently didn’t get it through to them the first two times. Once again, I said I was looking for the Clans. He didn’t seem to get I wasn’t from around here, since that didn’t make much of an impact. After a bit of accusation from them about being on their territory (which was when I figured that out, sadly enough) when I should know to stay off, I pointed out I’ve been traveling for a moon and didn’t know it was their territory. That seemed to get to them, and it was alone with having a weird name. There was silence until I asked what one did to join a Clan. The apprentice said Clan cats were born that way, but the patrol leader smacked him down and said anyone who promised to be loyal to their Clan could be a member of WindClan.

I believe they wanted me because they needed cats. They probably didn’t think I would amount to much, but I could be useful. I didn’t know their reasoning at the time, but I had reached my goal. Falcon had always wanted to come here, and I had made it for him since he couldn’t. They led me to their camp and had a quick talk with their leader, who came over and asked me to prove myself. That made no sense, but when she lunged at me, I fought back. I failed to impress her doing that since fighting your new leader was wrong in my opinion at the time. They had a little ceremony and said my name was now Whistlepaw. I objected, because my name was Whistle without a ‘paw’ at the end of the name. They said a cat in training, called an apprentice, had ‘paw’ at the end of their name until they became a warrior and got their warrior name. I said I didn’t need training, but they didn’t believe me on that. I got a mentor, Redfeather, and went to sleep in an Apprentices’ Den.

The next few days I learned all about being a Clan cat, not anything about fighting or hunting or anything, though I already knew it all anyway. After learning the code and life of warriors, Redfeather started training me, only it became apparent I knew it all already and the training was useless. Redfeather appealed to the leader, and a few moons after being called Whistlepaw, they named me Whistlefalcon. I objected to that, because at the beginning, I had hoped they would honor Whistle of the Meadow Lark which has been Flying over the Trees of the Forest as my name. That wasn’t how warrior names worked though, so they wouldn’t do it. I’m sure they called me Whistlefalcon because everyone in the Clan had heard about Falling Feather from the Swift Flight of a Falcon. I doubt now that anyone was really sure he existed, but my nonstop talk of how Falcon had trained me was rubbing off on them. I wasn’t pleased with the name, because I wasn’t to be just Whistle. It was only later I figured that maybe Falcon was following me around, being a supernatural being like the ones out to get me and all. So, while I would prefer to be Whistle, I’ll be Whistlefalcon for those Clan cats. That way, Falcon can be here too, in a way.

I was a rather new warriors in the Clan for quite a few moons. I don’t know exactly how many, but I don’t really need to keep track. Eventually everyone started to trust me and my loyalty, which I am very grateful for. I always hated when everyone was careful around me. Some of them liked my ‘spunk’ and others didn’t. After a while, and probably when I had been there for ten or so moons, I got my first apprentice. His name was Dustpaw, and I have to say that he was probably the most shy apprentice you could ever hope to get. He had a sister, Ratpaw, who was his opposite, and I got the feeling that he would be an apprentice longer than her. I tried to train him, and while he excelled in hunting, we had to finish that eventually, and when it got to fighting, he just didn’t do anything. A wasted around half a moon trying to get him to start learning to at least defend himself in a fight. Dustpaw just hated learning it.

Finally, I pulled him aside at one point and told him that if he wanted to become a warrior with Ratpaw, he would have to start trying harder. That seemed to do the trick. Dustpaw didn’t want to be behind his sister, and after six moons of training, he got his warrior name, Dustheart, along with his sister, Ratfang. The Clan’s old deputy died a few moons after I finished his training, and it was to my udder shock that the leader called upon me to be the new deputy. Apparently, the leader was with those that liked my ‘spunk’ at doing everything. Being deputy was kind of strange for me, at least a bit, but I soon got used to it. I don’t think the other Clans ever expected a cat as small as an apprentice to become deputy, but I was. Even better, I wasn’t Clan-born but I was still deputy, which proves any cat can do it, and the Clan must finally trust me if they were willing to make me have a part in leading them.

My second apprentice was Flowerpaw. One of her brothers had died as a kit, and she was quite shaken over it. It didn’t help when her other brother died after a moon of training. Actually, I was expecting her to be unwilling to do anything, since I was thinking about how I had trained Dustheart, but she had seemed determined to do even better than before. I was impressed with how hard she tried, and I believe she completely deserved to earn her warrior name, Flowerbloom. She was a pretty strong cat, especially after her siblings had died, and I’m proud of her for that. I was deputy for longer than I’ve been leader. Actually the old leader died only a few moons ago. It wasn’t until the whole Clan finished their vigil and the medicine cat was all pepped and ready to go with me that I fully realized I was supposed to lead them now. Somehow I didn’t mind being deputy, but leader was something I just didn’t expect. Meeting StarClan wasn’t going to be the funnest thing either. Everything went fine though, and I’m trying out all of these new responsibilities now.

OTHER:

(Just so I remember) Whistlestar is daring, bold, very creative, reckless, and can get rather mean over some things, although she doesn’t mind bending certain rules that she thinks are ridiculous.

[|| SiLVER]

ACCEPTED !!