Adopt Foxpelt | Mistralclan Warrior | Honeycloud's brother

name: Foxkit,Foxpaw, Foxpelt (*note, Foxpelt was given his warrior name by Ravenflight after Honeycloud told the clan the two toms about her first time dreaming of Starclan and what Barkface said about adding 'pelt to the end of all cat names. It is a joke between the leader and medicine cat because Foxpelt disliked Barkface. It is likely that he dislikes his warrior name due to this fact. See Honeycloud's history to read her dream.)
nicknames:Fox
age: 16 moons, mid newleaf
rank:Warrior
gender:Tom
clan: Mistralclan

appearance:Orange fur with white muzzle, chest, and tail- tip. Fur long, paws large but proportional, body slender, shoulders narrow. Short whiskers, dark pink nose.
eyes: A sage green color with a golden yellow flecks.
distinguishing features: Deep pink nose, long tail, pink pads

father:Blazenfur (deceased)
mother: Cloudfeather (deceased)
siblings: Honeycloud, UNKNOWN: Rabbitpaw (half-sister, Shadeclan)
history:
the pre
Tucked down between the wildflowers of the Steeplands rests the Mistralclan camp. Here, dappled brightly with yellow sunlight and whistling with the music of the winds, did many a cat once call their home. They were strong, prideful warriors with ancient lineage stretching further than the stars themselves. The very mountains whispered, singing their celestial song to the mesmerizing melody of cricket- chirps, weaving a tale of warriors long forgotten amongst lines of mist. Here, where the sun can refract and shower the earth with the full glory of its spectrum; here where the land was not born for cats, but the cats are born for the land; here where the true battle cry is not of tooth and claw but of the very nature of nature itself is where Mistralclan settled down for one relentless winter. Here is where Mistralclan made their home. Here is the clan into which Foxpelt was born.

Ah, but his tale does not start here, when he was barely a scrap of a kit and the winter was taking its toll. To fully know the slender tom, one would need to have known before his before.

And, one would need to have known Blazenfur.

Thick with muscle and broad in the shoulders and face, a handsome tom strolled his way into Onericclan camp. A playful beam of the yellow sun found him, illuminating his orange fur in all its fiery splendor, long and thick, it danced in the warm newleaf wind as he glided over the soft moss and clover which coated most of the forest floor. Whiskers long and twitching in anticipation, he made his glorious entrance into camp and stopped to drink in the limelight his clan shone upon him. The she- cats, from the youngest apprentice to the most prideful of warriors, were suddenly caught up in his sweet- scented wind and stared, enchanted, breathless. The toms, jealously alight in their eyes, stood in the background murmuring compliments of his strength and courage in battle, his effortless hunting abilities, and his flawless communication skills.

High on the praise of his fellow clanmates, the trusted warrior made his way through the small throng of his adoring crowd, speaking sweet murmurs to his precious little ladies who ate up his every word. Blind to him was the whole of the medicine cat’s den. It was useless to him- he was too cunning to become injured, too strong to succumb to any illness- yet it was the medicine cat’s new helper that would become the most important cat in the camp that day. For she, white with fur pale as snow, was Cloudfeather, and hidden safely within the warmth of her womb were Blazenfur’s kits.

“Blazenfur! Blaze!” Her melodic voice cried over the crowd, but he was immune to such cries, had grown accustomed to them. He merely let out a rolling chuckle from his stomach.

“That’s my name ladies, don’t wear it out now.” He purred with a voice layered thick with seductive tones.

“Blazenfur!” Cloudfeather cried again and began to weave her way around the other she- cats to find him, nearly knocking into the arrogant tom as he turned his head to wink and some skinny tabby. “Blazenfur.” She breathed, for she, too, was caught up in all that he was.

“Cloudfeather. A pleasure as always my dear… where have you been, it seems like moons!” He purred, staring meaningfully into her yellow eyes. She blinked once, twice, before she could work up the proper courage to answer.

“Well, I guess it’s easy to get caught up in…. other things… when you’ve got yourself a whole clan to feed and other…. things to please.” She breathed, her glances shying away from him. He chuckled at her softly.

“My dear little cloud, the winter was long. We lost many to greencough and every warrior has his paws full trying to feed the few queens we have left and the ones who are still sick. It is my duty to be busy with leafbare just barely over.” Blazenfur defended himself with low, charming murmurs.

“As has been mine. I have been aiding Barkface in the medicine cat den for now. I’d be no use out there compared to warriors like you, I-“

“Ah, you see? So we’re all helping.” He cut her off cheerfully, straightening and looking off. She had lost his attention already. “Which reminds me, I have a hunting patrol to lead, if you’ll excuse me…” He pushed past her, walking back towards the entrance and leaving her staring after him, speechless, petrified with the words which pressed her tongue.

“B-blaze…” She squeaked, but he made no notice. “Blazenfur, wait!” She cried, but he merely waved his tail in dismissal.

“Can’t honey, hungry clan to feed.”

“Blaze, please!” She begged, but the rest of the patrol was already gathering. “Blazenfur….” She breathed.

“I’m pregnant!”

the ‘kit
“Don’t you want to support your clan, be a true father? Don’t you want to support your kits? Support… me?” Her voice kept echoing in his head. That annoying, claws on slate voice. Why did she do this to him, trap him like this? He wasn’t a father type, he was a warrior, he was a ladies man, he was, he was-

“Blazenfur?” A rough voice croaked at him, then coughed thickly. The strong tom turned to see Barkface’s frail body trembling under the strain of his hacking, his short mottled fur thin and dirty, the poor old medicine cat lacking the strength to clean himself or the time to share tongues. Blazenfur couldn’t help but shudder at the sight of him, the cat the embodiment of Blazenfur’s greatest fears. Sick, old, small, weak, and alone. What a horrible life. He blinked to notice Barkface’s head turned upwards towards him, awaiting his reply.

“Y-yes, Barkface.” He answered respectfully, but the old tom didn’t seem impressed.

“Hmph. You may enter.” The medicine cat croaked and shuffled away towards the medicine cat den, leaving the entrance to the nursery a dark open void to taunt the new father. Blazenfur swallowed, his green eyes trying to penetrate the darkness and see inside without moving a single pawstep. New fears came over him. He wanted to love his kits. He feared he would not. He knew himself too well. With a sigh he dragged his heavy paws towards to the entrance, his eyes squinting as his head passed over the threshold into the warm dim light.

When his eyes finally fell upon her he felt his heart leap to his throat. The entire den was filled with her scent, and the very form of her stretched out upon the soft moss was as if she was looking at a fallen star right before him. Her attention was turned away, her back to him, and again the fear fluttered in his belly, again he felt the strong desire to turn and run away and never come back.

“Blazenfur?” She asked, her voice soft and sleepy. She had caught him, he couldn’t leave now. “Come see your kits.” She purred, but he didn’t move. For a while she did not press him further but when it seemed that he was not going to come, she spoke again. “They don’t bite, silly.” She giggled, and somehow that made his paws move again. Mechanically, lifelessly, drawn fourth by her simple order and his obligation.

And there they were.

The two kits were undoubtedly his, each touched with the fiery tones of his pelt. They mewed and squirmed against her belly and again his heart leaped. “What are their names?” He squeaked, unable to take his eyes from them. He knew nothing else to say. He was petrified of his own young.

“I thought we could name them together.” He backed away, wanting to claw her ears off for that.

“No.” He said distantly. “Name them whatever you want.” He tried to keep his voice warm, but it was difficult. If only they had any other father.

-

“Father! Father!” Tiny squealing voices giggled as two tufts of orange fur tumbled out of the nursery. The skilled little warriors crouched low and eyed their prey, the dreaded orange snake which had a death grip on their father’s butt. The she- kit, a very pale golden orange, signaled to her brother with a wave of her tiny tale to circle around to the other side of the snake, ready to attack. The brother, a brighter orange, hopped away with stifled giggles. The snake flicked back and fourth, attempting to evade them but to no avail. They were too cunning and Blazenfur wasn’t paying close enough attention. Green eyes pinned on the helpless victim, the kits pounced, satisfied with the clear yelp that sounded from their father.

He whirled on them with fire in his eyes to find them tumbling over each other in a fit of giggles. He straightened, ridged with anger so potent the kits could scent it. They scrambled to stand themselves, avoiding his gaze though by now it was seeking another. “Cloudfeather.” He barked sternly, finding the white- she cat had been gossiping over in the medicine cat’s den yet again. She caught sight of her fearful kits and hurried over.

“What’s all this about?” She asked innocently.

“We caught the snake-tail, mummy.” She she- kit declared with pride.

“You did! My, how fine of you-“

“They were distracting me.” Blazenfur snapped. She eyed him. He seemed older, somehow, but not in a matured way like he had grown into his role, in a way that made it seem like he, too was sick. It was almost as if surviving the long winter was just as sickening and dangerous as falling victim to it.

“Honeykit, Foxkit, is this true?” She chided, though she didn’t fully wish to. It wouldn’t hurt her mate to play with his kits. “Apologize to your father.”

“Sorry Blazenfur.” They droned in unison. With a cue from their mother they were released, sent running back into the nursery.

“You need to keep those kits under control. We have enough to do without them running around underpaw.” Blazenfur demanded. Cloudfeather recoiled.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to-“

“I have a patrol.” With that he was gone, leaving Cloudfeather wounded again, her mouth open, still wishing to speak further.

“Cloudfeather, is father going to play with us some more?” Honeykit asked, her small head peaking out of the entrance.

“Your father is very busy, Kitten. Without good warriors like him, Mistralclan might not have survived last leafbare. She explained, guiding her kit back into the den and settling down with her.

“Is that the Endless Leafbare, mummy?” Foxkit chirped.

“Yes my sharp little warrior. What a keen memory you have. Blazenfur and a few other warriors were the only toms able to keep their strength up. They spent every moment of their free time hunting. It seemed like they found every last little piece of prey in the forest by the time newleaf rolled around. Without them, we would have all gone hungry and you-“ She flicked Foxkit’s nose with her tail, “might not even be here today.”

“You really love him, don’t you?” Honeykit sighed wistfully, draping her little paws over one of Cloudfeather’s. Her eyes dreamily questioned her mother, which caused a purring giggle from her belly.

“Why yes, Kitten. He’s your father, of course I love him. He’s a brave and trusted warrior and you should be proud that you’re his kits.”

“I love that.” Honeykit murmured.

“What, Kitten?”

“Falling in love with a strong warrior. I want that.”

“Oh, yuck, not me, I want nothing to do with it.” Foxkit’s nose scrunched up in disgust, causing both she- cats to giggle. “Don’t laugh! I’m going to be a strong warrior like Blazenfur! I won’t have time for she-cats.”

“Well my little warrior, that may be, but sometimes Starclan has other plans for us.”


the ‘paw
“From this moment, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Foxpaw!” The young tom turned to see his small clan cheering his name.

“Foxpaw! Foxpaw!” They called. He beamed, but was uneasy in all the attention, shifting on his paws. Beside him sat Honeykit, the pretty she- kit ready for her new name. Unsure as to whether or not it was time for him to sit, his green eyes searched for their father. He called with the rest of them, but seemed distracted, the tom shifting on his paws as he watched the ceremony. Foxpaw stepped aside and allowed her sister to be named, his voice raising louder than the others while he still stared at their father. He wasn't paying them any attention! Why not? Wasn't he proud of them? Foxpaw snapped his eyes away as Honeypaw glided past him towards their mother, the pretty white she- cat was the first to greet them.

“Oh, what am I going to do without my strong little warriors nearby?” She asked, pressing her nose to both their cheeks and ignoring Foxpaw’s protests.

“Don’t worry, now we can protect you out there. Bring you food too! I can’t wait to hunt, I’m going to bring you the biggest vole ever!” Honeypaw enthused.

“Not if I catch it first!” Foxpaw taunted.

“Well I have an appetite for the biggest vole and the biggest squirrel, if my little warriors are up for the task.” Cloudfeather giggled.

“I can catch a squirrel!” Honeypaw exclaimed.

“No, me!”

“You’ll need to learn to hunt first.” A voice cut through and calmed their excitement. His green eyes cold, Blazenfur motioned for them to follow. “We are short on warriors and your mentors are busy. We will have to share training you. You can come hunting with the patrol that’s going out now. And you will feed the elders and queens first. Then your mother.”

“Yes, Blazenfur.” They droned.

-

“Foxdung!” Foxpaw spat, and pushed himself up out of the slick mud, his claws digging into the earth as he did. Eyes angry, he glared about the training place, paranoid of an audience. This move, this one mousebrain move, he just couldn’t get it. He had to though, he would remain a warrior, they couldn’t do this to him. Not the son of Blazenfur!

Crouching low into the mud, the orange tom tensed his muscles, his legs a wound spring ready to be released. He was about to let himself fly when a seductive laugh caught his ear. “What are you doing?” Honeypaw’s voice purred, causing Foxpaw to flinch. He felt like a kit caught sneaking out of camp.

“I hate this stupid competition. I need more time to train.” He explained, righting himself and shivering against the early newleaf chill. It was a harsh leafbare and now it seemed it was going to be a cold newleaf as well.

“Oh Foxpaw, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Besides, we are related, and I can totally convince another tom to take your place if you lose. Which you won’t.”

“Gee. How supportive of you. Thanks.” Foxpaw turned his back to her, his ear twitching as he heard her begin to pace, thinking.

“Well, what if we-“

“No, Honeypaw. No what if’s. Father’s not here to protect us anymore by the very use of his name. When the time comes to choose the new medicine cat and we have to fight off the others, I’m going to lose. It’s what they want, anyway, I’m small and I have a good memory.”

“But you know nothing about herbs! You never paid any attention when Cloudfeather spoke to us about her time with Barkface, you were always daydreaming about being a warrior!”

“What do you want from me, Honeypaw? I’m built for speed, not brute strength, and they all know it, so do you. At least you’re pretty like mum was, you have a chase. Starclan knows you can fight, too, if they bothered to lift a claw against you.” It wasn’t going to be a brutal competition, just a sparing match to decide who was stuck with the job, but the desperation which kept the young survivors clinging to their dreams worried Foxpaw.

Honeypaw sighed. “We’ll think of something. Just.. keep practicing.”

“I plan to.” He snapped, and went back to work, anger seeping from every pore. It wasn't until late that he got back to camp, slipping through the dirt tunnel and padding softly to the apprentice's den without a word. He relaxed a bit when he saw Honeypaw curled up next to his nest, the she- cat sound asleep. She was a lucky one, able to sleep soundly knowing her warrior position was a sure thing.

He, on the other hand, was too small to beat off the other apprentices. According to the other apprentices a competition was the only sure thing to decide who becomes medicine cat, especially since nobody wanted Barkface's old job. The old coot! Why'd he have to go and die like the rest of them?

The bitter feeling made Foxpaw's stomach flip so he forced his aching paws to bring him to his nest and curl up there, his body flopping into the cold moss as his mind raced. He didn't think he could sleep but the next thing he knew someone was kicking him, waking him up.

He opened his green eyes to catch sight of his sister squirming in her sleep. Grumpy, he prodded her with a sharp paw. "Oi, you're kickin' in your sleep, 'Hon." Foxpaw sighed, half- asleep.

“Sorry, Fox.” She whispered, and rose to her paws. Foxpaw watched her out of one eye.

“Where you goin’?” He questioned, though he didn’t feel like getting up to stop her.

“To my new den.” What kind of mousebrain talk was that?

“What do you mean ‘your new den.’ Did you hit your head on the way back to camp, Honeypaw?”

“Honeycloud now. And no. You just happen to be looking at Mistralclan’s new medicine cat.” She said with pride. He snorted.

“Okay, if you say so. Lemme know when you wake up from your sleep walking and wonder how you’ve gotten to Barkface’s old nest. Bet it still smells of the old coot. I mean, really, that cat was off his pads. Sick off old age and weakness. You don't want to sleep in there, his very ghost may up and drive you out. Better stay and sleep Honeypaw.“ He said, awaiting protest, but she had up and gone. "Honeypaw?" There was no answer, so Foxpaw sighed and went back to sleep, only later realizing the grand gift his sister had given him.

He would become a great warrior after all.