Animal I have Become (open)

[blackhawk]

Blackhawk wandered the mashland. Her golden eyes narrowed against the bright sun. She didn't bother to creep. She wasn't hunting and wasn't worried about scaring the fresh-kill away. She was merely here to think. She leapt atop a rock to stare across the landscape and frown. Today was the day of the month that the young kit had died. She had killed it. It was her fault. Always had been her fault. No matter what Rookstar had said. She stared intently at a floating cloud.

That was a lie that she constantly told herself. Why did she tell herself that? Most cats would blame it on someone else. But not Blackhawk. The moment she had said it was her fault she had believed it. Her shocked brain had immediately accepted the answer. Why had she done it to begin with? She didn't want the kits who had been involved to get in trouble. So she had took it onto herself without any idea what would happen.

Since then she had become a monster. She had become vicious and willing to do anything to serve herself. The only person she cared about more than herself was her mother. But that was normal right? To love your mother more than yourself, she after all had given birth to Blackhawk.

The sun was making her tired. Drawn directly to her black fur the warmth of the rays were making her eyes close. But her small ears stood alert on her head and waiting to hear for anything besides the fresh-kill in the bush. Her black ears twitched and focused. The wind pushed through her fur and she sighed. She liked to think it was Starclan calming her, trying to soothe her.

[{Otter}]

Leafbare was a lovely time. When one had long, flowing fur to keep one warm, and when one's fur matched the snow that fell and allowed one to sneak up on prey better than a ShadowClan cat in the dead of night, leafbare was a lovely time. Especially since any other time of year was hard for such a stark-white cat to hunt in. It was a blessing that she was in RiverClan, really. You didn't have to hide your coloring from fish, you just had to know how to catch them. Simple as that, really.

Light brown eyes swept the land as she padded daintily over the icy, soggy ground. The freezing water seeped into the fur between the pads of her paws and into the feathery tendrils flowing from her legs, causing a soft shiver to ripple delicately through her body. Hah. Delicately. Not a word any wise cat used to describe Icefeather, but those who did not know her would think it described her perfectly. Say it to her face and one would find one's whiskers clawed off.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was out here, really. The Clan didn't need much more freshkill, though she figured she would hunt while she was out here. No, she just appreciated this lovely season and the ability to blend in with the snowy ground.

An icy wind sent another small shiver through her body, and brought with it the scent of a fellow warrior. After a moment's deliberation, Icefeather decided it was Blackhawk. She frowned at the smell and stopped in her tracks. Blackhawk was not an enjoyable cat to be around. She was always a bit depressed, really, and very aggressive. Too aggressive. And weak, too! Nothing worse than a weak cat who wants to go fighting all the time, cynical Icefeather sneered. She wasn't one to see the virtues in a cat.

However, Blackhawk had a lovely trait in her that Icefeather quite enjoyed--a deep hatred of other Clans. Icefeather harbored the same hatred, and that was something, right?

With an extra sniff to make sure she was going the right way, the lean white she-cat struck off toward Blackhawk. Eventually she emerged into a broad patch of sunlight. Immediately the warm rays began to warm her fur, and Icefeather's eyes widened slowly. Well, well, there were warm places in such a frozen season, were there? And Blackhawk had found the perfect spot. Light brown eyes lifted to the black-and-white she-cat currently lying atop a flat rock. She figured Blackhawk knew she was there--she was rather observant, that she-cat. But, just to be sure, she mewed smoothly, "Greetings, Blackhawk."

[Sparrow]

[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] It was never polite to pry, of course, not that anyone paid much attention to that unspoken rule. In more sophisticated places it might have been given due consideration, but for a warrior it was almost nonexistent. Anything that might interfere with one's duties was unacceptable, according to the Code. but again, that was a tad unreasonable. No warrior was ever so perfectly removed as to be completely uncompromised. Clan loyalty was simply further proof of that. If you were fighting for your Clan, it would impede your judgment, and that was the thick and thin of the matter. Not that that changed anything. Such were the pale she-cat's thoughts as she looked inquisitively ahead, wondering whether it would be better merely to pass an uncomfortable situation by or to add some zest to the sunny day. The weather, to be certain, was intending to make the day far too warm and lazy for her rather unique taste, but what lay before her promised black clouds and claw marks by sunhigh. Two scents floated nonchalantly on the mild breeze, each bearing two distinct calling cards upon them. Both bore the strong scent of RiverClan, and both were cats that she would, on a good day, avoid completely. Though there were few she-cats in RiverClan, four to be exact, and one being the medicine cat, Mintleaf found that she got along with fairly few. Fairly few being herself and possibly Moonwing, though she rarely spoke to the pretty medicine cat. The other two were far too... eclectic for her refined tastes. Blachawk she could tolerate. There was little in common that the two shared, so far as she could distinguish, and the distinctly aggressive personality that the black she-cat displayed was rather frightening to someone as unassuming as Mintleaf. In battle, she kept clear of the older she-cat, all the better that she didn't see what became of the unfortunate rivals that she might encounter on the battlefield. Icefeather, on the other hand, was unbearable. So far as Mintleaf was concerned, the bitter white warrior was an unnecessary evil, and was best avoided. She was not inclined to trust someone as judgmental and... vicious as Icefeather, and felt a distinct stab of pity towards anyone who did. Nevertheless, it would be an interesting meeting should she choose to attend. Striding up to sit a small distance away, she was struck with an unexpected wave of pity towards Blackhawk, whose expression appeared to be of deep remorse. The black and white warrior's eyes appeared positively haunted over something, though what it was was completely unknown to Mintleaf. It was all the more enraging then, to see Icefeather's remorseless face intruding upon her fellow warrior with such disregard to tact. Of all of the white she-cat's strengths, polite conversation did not appear to be among them. And despite her duties to her Clanmates, Mintleaf was not willing to believe that a pretty face was an adequate disguise for what she perceived to be a rotten personality. Pale green eyes closed tightly for a minute before she took a breath and moved slowly out of the reeds. Her scent would have carried, but it never hurt to make a quiet entrance. Her pale tabby pelt smoothed down in the sun's warmth, and she swiped her tongue busily over her left forepaw before addressing the rather depressed-looking Blackhawk. "It's far too nice a morning to look so gloomy, Blackhawk. You'll bring the snows back." Her quiet voice was gentle, yet firm, and she spoke her mind before her gathered courage failed her. "What brings such sorrow, if you don't mind me prying?" She ignored Icefeather completely, knowing that it was likely a bad move to make. Quite frankly, Mintleaf didn't care what the furball thought or did. word count: 412 audience: Blackhawk, Icefeather comments: n/a

[blackhawk]

A scent came to her on the wind. What was that scent? It was a Riverclan cat for sure, she bore the under current of fish and crisp clean water. She frowned slightly and opened her eyes. It was Icefeather. Now Icefeather was a bit too cynical and sarcastic for Blackhawk's taste but she didn't hate her. She didn't really hate anyone in her clan. Calmly she turned with her golden eyes slightly downcast to reply to the greeting. She cleared her throat to open up her vocal chords and said, " Hello, Icefeather. How are you?"

After saying that however another cat moved out of the reeds. It was Mintleaf. Now Mintleaf and Blackhawk got along much better than Icefeather and she did. A true smile broke out across her face at her slightly dry sense of humor. She moved back to include Icefeather in the conversation. She sighed and shifted slightly she had never told anyone about this before and yet here she was compelled to tell these two cats. Slowly she began.

"Do you remember the apprentice that died a while ago? It was my fault. I know Rookstar never said whose fault it was but it was mine," she felt her eyes drop and she seemed to shrink even smaller than she was. Her ears twitched uncomfortably and she waited for their cries of outrage. Their anger and vicious hate. What could she do? She knew it was going to happen and she couldn't stop it. She shook her head. Somewhere deep inside she knew this was a lie but it was so deep that she didn't realize it.

Hatred for herself bloomed within her chest and she wished these cats would claw her eyes out. How could she had let this happen? How could she have let this go undressed for so long? She let Rookstar not tell anyone about her being involved, it had ripped her apart.

[{Otter}]

((Beware, super crappy post ahead))

Oh, how lovely. Here came miss Goodie-Two-Shoes herself. Mintleaf was a specimen, that was for sure. Far different from Blackhawk but, in Icefeather's mind, no cat was less than another. They all had countless flaws that were so very obvious to her.

Mintleaf? She was so quiet. She never said what she wanted to, never seemed to give her opinion or critique. She always second-guessed herself, it seemed. Were those traits RiverClan needed in a deputy? Goodness sakes, no. Many warriors would be far better for such a position. The only one she could think of not being better suited would be that sorry excuse for a warrior, Ottersplash. Oh, he really irked her.

But no, now was not the time to think about others. She should focus on the two cats before her. Mintleaf, the little twerp, was completely ignoring her, and Icefeather gave a soft sneer of amusement. Oh, as if that would hurt her feelings. As if silence would scare her away.

Before she could say a single word, Blackhawk began to reply to Mintleaf's words, and then the warrior started ranting about some past thing. Icefeather only half listened for a moment, but when the warrior finally got down to the point, her eyes widened slowly and she turned her attention of Blackhawk. In Icefeather's mind, the apprentice who had died was a fool. No true RiverClan kit tried to swim before it was their time! Not if they wanted to live. Why would their death be anyone's fault but their own?

"The apprentice drowned, did it not?" she mewed with a simple shrug. Though bitter and cynical, Icefeather was not heartless, and she didn't often jump to conclusions. If it did turn out it was Blackhawk's fault, the she-warrior would act immediately, with no other questions. She was, however poorly she portrayed it, a loyal cat and had no interest in attacking a fellow warrior. Why would Blackhawk bring such an old topic up all of a sudden? It was mousebrained, that's what it was. "It was sad, but it's over. An accident. No?" Her voice was soft as she attempted to extract more information from the she-cat, her large eyes widening as she took in Blackhawk's stance and tone of voice.

[Sparrow]

[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] ((Sorry in advance for the crap post. First day back at school has fried my synapses for tonight. That's probably why Minty is so on edge...)) The warm welcome was unexpected, and Mintleaf quickly reassessed her judgment of the black and white warrior as Blackhawk smiled at her entrance. Perhaps it was the result of stress, but so far as she could tell, it seemed as though she had sorely misjudged her fellow warrior in many ways. With a guilty glance, Mintleaf returned the small smile and nodded in welcome before turning to glance briefly at the other conversant. Icefeather, predictably enough, looked as though she would like nothing better than to choke the life from Mintleaf's body. It was no secret between the two that their dislike was mutual, if nothing else about them was. It was plain that she had disliked Mintleaf even when the little tabby had been a warrior, and her contempt seemed only to have grown when Mintleaf had been appointed deputy of the clan, for the white warrior had a superiority complex unmatched by any that Mintleaf had yet encountered. And it showed plainly, as though scrawled crudely across Icefeather's features. The pretty white she-cat's brown eyes were glittering in irritation as Mintleaf approached, and a hint of sarcasm quivered about the line of her mouth. It was perhaps a bad idea to have ignored her, but something that was completely irreversible now. Blackhawk had begun to speak, and Mintleaf turned back to face her, ears pricked to attention. Listening intently, she examined the older she-cat's face as Blackhawk recounted her tale, puzzling over the incident as her ears flickered back and forth, following the warrior's regrets. She recalled the incident vividly herself, though had had no idea that Blackhawk had been involved. The apprentice that had died had drowned in the river during a swimming training session, something almost unheard of in RiverClan history. His name had been... she thought for a moment, but couldn't remember, and turned her attention to Blackhawk as she finished her story with a morose tone and an expression of regret so great that it could make StarClan weep. It seemed that silence had fallen over the forest after Blackhawk finished, though in reality it must only have been a matter of seconds. Then an acidic voice, seemingly nonchalant about the entire affair spoke with a bored air behind her. "The apprentice drowned, did it not? It was sad, but it's over. An accident. No?" She had called him an it. Siltpaw. An it. The apprentice, it drowned. She hadn't even the courtesy to show the proper respect to his name, much less respect the sensitive nature of the topic to her Clanmate. A cold calmness spread over Mintleaf's expression, and she turned with deliberate slowness to face Icefeather, a rather strained expression on her face that echoed in her quiet tones. "If you haven't the courtesy to even remember his name, then I am ashamed to call you a RiverClan warrior. 'The apprentice?' 'It?' Where is your sense of honor? His name was Siltpaw, you wretched thing, and you'd do well to remember it." She paused, normally tranquil eyes blazing, and despite her best efforts, the fur on her tail began to bristle. It was as though the white warrior was being nasty simply for the fun of it, as per usual, though she had gone too far this time. She turned stiffly, moving slowly towards Blackhawk, and attempting to regain her composure. It wouldn't do to lose her temper in front of her Clanmates like this, given how little some of them obviously thought of her. Her voice was softened slightly, though she doubted whether it was fully returned to its usual timbre. "It was no one's fault that Siltpaw drowned, Blackhawk. Rookstar is fair, but he is strict, and you know this. Unless you forcibly held him under the water, you are not at fault, and you are far too good a warrior for that." word count: 644 audience: Blackhawk, Icefeather comments: n/a

[{Otter}]

Great. Mintleaf was going off on her now. Far from being intimidated, Icefeather's lips curled in amusement. She wasn't afraid of Mintleaf. When it came right down to it, she was pretty sure she could beat the little she-cat in any fight, anywhere. Not that she would try. Icefeather was far against fighting members of her own Clan.

She was, however, a bit insulted. Crappy though she was, she hadn't just forgotten the name. It slipped her mind at the moment, and she hadn't wanted to be silent. So why not go ahead and talk? "Oh, do forgive me, dear Mintleaf," Icefeather hissed softly, eyes blazing but fur flat as she glared at the wretched she-cat. "Forgive me for forgetting for a moment. For not sitting here in mousebrained silence while I tried to remember the name of Siltpaw, an apprentice I was never able to talk to and who I never happened to be around when he was alive. Do you ever forget a cat's name? No, I suppose you never do that. You're the perfect cat, aren't you?" It hit home when a cat said she wasn't a RiverClanner. Icefeather would die for her Clan, she'd suffer for RiverClan, and was proud of it. No one questioned her right to be a member. Especially not this cat.

Back to the matter at hand, though. Icefeather glanced at Blackhawk and added, "There is no point in worrying about it all the time. He was mourned for by many, and now he's in StarClan. There are things to be done for RiverClan and the cats still here." She didn't respect anyone who moped around instead of working to keep RiverClan strong. Great StarClan, couldn't Blackhawk let this go? She was a senior warrior, for goodness sakes! The death had happened moons ago! Sure, it was sad for awhile, but a cat had to move on!

[blackhawk]

Blinking in surprise at the fearsome look and speech that was given between these two she narrowed her eyes. Perhaps these two were more than just clan mates they seemed to truly have a distaste for each other. Lovely, now she was surrounded by two cats that practically hated each other, as much as clan mates could. Blackhawk knew that these cats would protect each others backs in a fight but would in eat separately when in camp. It was just how things worked. One couldn't love everyone in one's clan. But never had she personally seen Mintleaf like that. Blackhawk hoped she never grew that angry with her.


But she couldn't help the sense of happiness that washed over her. These two were right. It wasn't her fault that Siltpaw had died and she had grieved for him a long time, perhaps longer than even his mother. Though Blackhawk wouldn't make that her assumption. She shook her body out and nodded in agreement with what they had said, "I suppose your right. I believe I have been grieving for him for far too long and some of my soul has died in the process. I am no longer the cat of who I used to be. I think I had begun to make myself think that it had been my fault."

And there! She had said it! That perhaps she had been fooled into thinking her paw had been the one that had caused the death and that maybe it wasn't true. She felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Maybe she would be able to be happier now. Less focused on just her work and her sorrow and maybe enjoy the turning of seasons again and be able to smile more. Wouldn't that be nice? Perhaps love would be possible? No longer would she be bogged down by this overwhelming depression. Perhaps others would want to be around her now?So many possibilities were open now.

(wow like I said she's sorta bi-polar and so her moods change quickly =D)

[Sparrow]

[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] That Icefeather had reacted so violently was no surprise to Mintleaf, and her face remained composed despite the insults flung at her, her mouth drawn in a line of genuine amusement. It had only done her mood good to see that the white she-cat was so incensed about her choice of words, and with a sense of contentment, Mintleaf knew that Siltpaw's name would never again be forgotten by the rather vicious little thing. If she knew anything about Icefeather, it was that the white warrior was fiercely loyal, no matter how disagreeable, and would do anything to maintain that level of committment. Despite everything about her that was aimed to repulse and keep others at a distance, Icefeather was a valuable asset to the Clan, and as Deputy it was Mintleaf's responsibility to see this, no matter how much she hated the warrior. So she forced a pained grin upon her face and laughed softly at the crooned words that held such bitter malice so as to potentially wither the marsh grasses around the small gathering. "Oh, I forgive you, to be certain. To call you an embarrassment to the clan was out of line, given your efforts, but I must say that your memory need improve if you are ever to make a satisfactory elder. So long as you intend to become one, that is." Her green eyes were cold, thinking of the white warrior as an elder, with no warrior duties to keep her occupied and happy. What misery would this bring? StarClan permit Stormcloud to outlive his mate! At least the calm grey warrior may be able to balance out his blushing mate's unbearable temper. But really. She was the perfect cat, now was she? With a frown, she recalled her conversation with Rookstar near the gorge a few days past and her advice to go to war. Was it correct to allow even Icefeather to fight against ShadowClan? A life lost was a terrible price, no matter how ill-mannered it may be. Her heart sank, and she averted her eyes, her ears pinned back against her head in suppressed guilt. Blackhawk's voice rang out, and she snapped back to the present, her ears pricking forward and her entire posture returning to alertness. The happiness that had begun to show on her face blossomed into a wave of joy passing over her face, and her tone spoke far more than her simple words ever could. "You'll be happier now, I believe? It's amazing how far-spread of an influence that shock and sorrow can have on the mind. Remember, it isn't about the cat you used to be, but the warrior that you are today." Her ears perked, and a grin flitted across her mouth. "Is anyone else hungry?" word count: 462 audience: Blackhawk, Icefeather comments: n/a

[{Otter}]

((....Suckish post ahead....))

Blackhawk's mind seemed to transform in a heartbeat, and Icefeather rolled her eyes slightly. After all that time of brooding away over Siltpaw's death, and now, with just a few words, she was all better? It was madness! What was RiverClan coming to?

And Mintleaf. A soft growl emanated from the white she-cat's throat as the insufferable deputy of RiverClan kept on and on about it. Oh, so she thought Icefeather would make a poor elder? Well, that was simply too bad. Oh, how Icefeather would brood and worry over the deputy's opinion of her ability to become an elder! Great StarClan, the horror! No. Icefeather smirked and chose to hold her tongue. No point in engaging Mintleaf in a little spat, now was there?

The lovely deputy seemed to have a random change in mood, and Icefeather watched in confusion as the she-cat's ears flattened and she looked away. What was this? An attempt to reconcile everything she'd said? The light brown eyes rolled once more. Right. And then the deputy went on and on with her lovely words and whatnot, comforting Blackhawk. Not that the warrior didn't need it, but really? It was insufferable.

Finally, Mintleaf spoke again. An invitation to go hunting. Icefeather snorted soundlessly. It was extended to Blackhawk, of course, not her. She could easily bow out. But why do that when it was such a lovely day to hunt? "Aye, let us hunt. Perhaps it will lift your spirits even more, Blackhawk?" she mewed with well-feigned eagerness.