Posts by Alleykat

It was early newleaf. The sun hung high up in the sky, birds flitted to and fro, serenading one another with their sing-song voices, and the soft, lush grass tickled his paws. He can vaguely remember stopping along the way to investigate a peculiar looking flower.

The image of his sister's broken body flashed in his mind.

The flower smelled of lavender.

A gust of wind sent chills up his spine, and he rushed forward to join his companion once more.

Gallantgaze was only eight moons old when Shadowstripe brought him to Blizzardclan. She'd found him wandering around in the loner lands, near a small clearing that she visited occasionally while hunting. When she'd first stumbled upon him, he'd been in a catatonic state--walking around and mumbling to someone who wasn't there, pawing ferociously at the ground as if desperately drying to dig his way through the earth. He'd been unwilling to say anything about who he was or where he'd come from for a while--many moons, in fact. It wasn't until he'd been accepted into the clan and completed his apprenticeship, having become a fully fledged warrior of Blizzardclan, that he finally spoke to her about his past.

Gallantgaze had been born Gallantkit of Shadowclan, the oldest of a litter of three. Both he and his younger sister, Blazepaw, had successful births; however, tragedy struck with the birth of the unnamed third kit. Complications arose, and the young kit died in birth, taking Ebonystep--his mother--along with it as a result of too much blood loss. Although Ebonystep is only a vague outline in the fog of his memories, Gallantgaze's father stands out as clear as day.

Gallantpaw grew up a relatively happy kit with boundless energy and plenty of friends; however, as he grew older, he began to notice the looks of sympathy that the older cats gave him, and the cold stares of contempt flashed at him by the apprentices whenever Gallantpaw received attention from the senior warriors. He was always a little bigger and a tad bit stronger than his fellow apprentices, constantly receiving praise for his shows of strength and endurance. This didn't make him popular with the others, who believed that he only received extra attention because of his mother's death. So, both he and his sister were ostracized by the others. As long as they were together, however, they didn't mind.

Gallantgaze never got along very well with his father; in fact, Jaggedclaw seemed to avoid he and his sister like the plague. Whether it was because they reminded him too much of Ebonystep, or because the proud cat simply had too much on his agenda to be bothered with a bunch of bumbling kits, Gallantpaw wasn't sure. Either way, his father might as well have been just another warrior. He was never mean or abusive to Gallantpaw and Blazepaw--he simply refused to acknowledge them as his own. A word of approval here and there, a piece of advice when it was needed, and nothing more. Gallantgaze likes to think that his father would have been proud to see him become a warrior.

The only day that Gallantgaze can remember his father ever having paid him any attention--and he can clearly remember the look of rage plastered across his father's face that day--was the day his sister died. It's the one event from his days in Shadowclan that remains etched permanently into his memories, as vividly as if he were constantly watching it play out in front of him on repeat. No matter how hard he tries to get the image out of his head, he'll never forget his sister's mangled body, never forget the numb feeling that flooded him afterward. He'd been so absorbed with shock that he hadn't heard the footsteps, hadn't noticed the patrol approaching. But he'll always remembered the stunned silence, broken by the pitiful wail from his father--such a proud, stubborn cat. It was the only time he'd ever seen him express any kind of emotion.

Gallantpaw didn't argue or try to plead his case when his father spat accusations at him, didn't put up a fight when he chased him off of the territory. What was there left for him in Shadowclan, anyway? He could stand living in the same camp as a father who virtually ignored him. He could stand being shunned by the other apprentices. He could stand to face his father's wrath. But he couldn't do any of those things without Blazepaw. And so, he left without putting up a struggle. Five moons later, here he is in Blizzardclan. It was hard to adjust to clan life again after wandering on his own for so long, but he seems to have settled in pretty well.

gal·lant --adjective -- (of a person or their behavior) brave; heroic.
With a name like Gallantgaze and the appearance of some kind of ancient cat god, many expect him to be a ferocious, battle-hardened warrior with countless tales to tell. Young kits and apprentices look up to him, and other warriors seem to address him with respect that he can never recall having earned, all because of how he looks. In reality, however, Gallantgaze possesses little to none of the qualities of a seasoned warrior. Many seem to forget that he's still very young, only just out of apprenticeship. He possesses a natural, kit-like curiosity, and is quite uncoordinated at times(a funny sight for a cat his size). In short, he can easily be summarized as a gentle giant.

Gallantgaze is indeed brave, but not foolhardy. He does not try to fight others' battles for them, and knows how to hold his tongue and mind himself in a situation in which he has no business butting into. Yes, he will fight at your side against a raging dog. No, he will not rush out onto the front lines against an entire pack of wild dogs. Unlike his father, Gallantgaze isn't a proud cat. He's confident in his abilities, but he doesn't let it go to his head. Had things turned out differently for him in his childhood, he might have been much more impulsive--the young, headstrong warrior always willing to rush into action. However, Gallantgaze is much more aware of the consequences of his actions than many cats his age.

Gallantgaze possesses boundless compassion, and an unwavering sense of loyalty that borders on naivety. He's always willing to lend a helping paw to anyone in need, and although he doesn't really like to get involved to affairs that aren't his own, he'll jump to the defense of a close friend without a second thought. He's considerably protective of those he loves, sometimes annoyingly so. He's a very family oriented cat and hates to be alone, always finding comfort in the presence of a companion.

Gallantgaze is considerably soft-spoken. He's somewhat spacey, and tends to get lost in his own thoughts at times; however, he does have his occasional bursts of energy. He's somewhat shy around his seniors, or around cats he doesn't know. Around familiar faces, however, he's either incredibly talkative or exceptionally quiet. He listens well to order and rarely attempts to put up a fight, unless he's truly against what he's being told to do.

"You want me to do what?!"

Gallantpaw stared up into the tree, a look of disbelief plastered across his face. From where he stood at the great oak's base, he couldn't even see it's highest branch--it seemed to stretch endlessly up into the heavens.

"Come on, it'll be fun! What are you, some kind of scaredy-kit?"

He turned his honeyed gaze to his companion, a sleek, black she-cat whose eyes shone with a mischievous glint. He could almost see his reflection mirrored in her cobalt gaze, could picture the fear-stricken bewilderment that must have shone in his expression. He couldn't make himself look like a coward in front of his little sister--she was supposed to look up to him, after all. He wanted her to aspire to be the big, brave warrior that her older brother was--not laugh mockingly at him from the highest branch of the monstrous tree that he was too afraid to climb.

"Of course not," he huffed, swiping his tongue across his chest fur a few times in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. If he couldn't convince her that he wasn't too scared to go up, he'd just have to give her reason to remain planted on the ground. "I just don't want you to get hurt, is all. If you got hurt under my watch, I'd be dead!" He gave a resolute nod once he'd finished rattling off his excuse, proud of himself for coming up with such a believable lie. Unfortunately for him, Blazepaw saw right through his phony act of valiance. Much to his disappointment, she let out a mocking laugh, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, right. You're unbelievable! In case you've forgotten, I'm the brave one here. You're the one who needs protecting. Anyway, I'm heading up." She turned away from him, taking a few small bounds closer to a smaller, much less intimidating tree beside the great monster looming before them. Then, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. "Feel free to join me if you're not too scared, kittypet," she called. And with a flick of her tail, she fell back onto her haunches and propelled herself up into the air, getting a claw-hold on the lowest branch of the small pine. She scrambled up onto it, taking a few moments to balance herself before strutting out onto the end of the branch, grinning smugly down at her brother.

"How's the view from down there, little kit? It's great from up here! And it'll be even better once I'm able to jump across to the giant oak!" Without waiting for a response, she disappeared into the pine's leaves. Gallantpaw stood silently, following her movements through the rustling of branches and leaves. What was he doing? He couldn't let his little sister reach the top of that pine! Even if she climbed to the highest branch, there was no way she'd reach the great oak. The jump was too far. She'd fall to her death!

"Wait, Blazepaw! C-come back! I'm serious!"

Gallantpaw stared up into the pine, eyes wide with alarm as he waited for a response. After a while, the rustling stopped, and Blazepaw's ashen face popped out from within the pine.

"I'm already at the top! No stopping me now," she yowled, voice full of glee. "I hope you're watchin', scaredy-kit, because this will be the moment I proved once and for all how much braver I am than you!"

Gallantpaw watched in horror as she crept along to the edge of the branch she stood on, freezing in her tracks as the branch bobbed threateningly under her weight. Gallantpaw felt a newfound fear creep into the pit of his stomach, and a wave of nausea rolled over him. He could hear it creak as it strained to hold her weight, could pinpoint the tiny snapping sounds that it made as the wood began to splinter. The branch couldn't possibly hold her weight. If she didn't move soon, she would fall.

"Blazepaw, stop! It's gonna break!"

"Liar! You just don't want to be outdone by your little sister. Well, it's too late for that. I'm--"

The snap of that tiny branch couldn't have been any louder than a twig breaking, but in that moment the sound was defeaning. Gallantpaw's heart stopped, his breath hitching in his throat. He should have done something--he should have moved to break her fall, or tried to intercept her as she fell from the pine. But, alas, he'd been unable to do anything more than squeeze his eyes shut and look away.

There was the sound of a muffled thud and a sickening crunch as his sister's body hit the ground, followed by a silence broken only by the chirping of a bird.

http://funnycatwallpapers.com/…13/05/white-tiger-cat.jpg

For all that's known about her, Shadowstripe might as well be part of the shadows that cloak the forest floor in the midst of a thick and impenetrable darkness. The extent of what the clan knows about her is that she arrived at their borders on the first eve of leaf-bare eight moons prior, dragging along a small fox with fur as white as her own as an offering to the clan, and requesting only one thing: to be accepted as one of their own. She didn't seem to be much of a threat, so she was welcomed, adopting the clan name Shadowstripe.

She claims to have come from Skyclan, but no one can be quite sure if this is true. Even Shadowstripe herself isn't sure of this; in fact, she isn't quite sure of what her life was like before Blizzardclan. Whenever she tries to think back to her past, all that she can conjure is a name--Calliope--and the image of a young female cat with soft, mousey fur and large, doe-like eyes. She's also seen small glimpses of what are probably pieces of her past--a nest of newborn kits mewling and pawing for their mother, the vague silhouettes of two young apprentices sitting at the edge of a river--but can't quite seem to put them together in her mind.

[font=andale mono]Shadowstripe is something of an enigma. She's pleasant to be around, but she's no splash of sunshine on a rainy day. She's a very quiet cat, and other's should have no reason to be wary of her; yet, she seems to give off an air of foreboding that at once warns cats away and draws them in at the same time.

If Shadowstripe is indeed capable of emotion, she's never cared to express it. She always wears a neutral expression, one that gives away nothing. She always carries herself in a very formal and polite manner; hidden behind her formalities, however, is a reservoir of rapier wit that she reserves for special occasions. Below her enigmatic demeanor is a warm smugness that she carries with her at all times, one that seems to scream, 'i know something that you don't.'

Shadowstripe is incredibly blunt--so much so that, at times, despite her politeness, she may come across as rude. She simply has never felt a need to lie or beat around the bush in order to preserve others' feelings. When she does speak, her sentences are usually very short and abrupt, never dressed up with flourishes or big words, but simply conveying the point that she means to convey, nothing more. When faced with a cat that she finds annoying, she simply chooses not to deal with them. Arguments are something she simply doesn't do. She would sooner turn and walk away than bicker back and forth over something pointless.

The strangest thing about Shadowstripe is her very nature. She has a very practiced, almost mechanical way of going about things, as if she herself isn't controlling her actions. She spaces out at random times, often waking up from a deep daze to find herself staring into the eyes of a terrified-looking apprentice. Whatever the cause of her lapses in thought or disconnected actions, neither she, nor anyone else, seems to know.