Nighthawk &; RiverClan

[korkk]

• NAME: Nighthawk
  
  
• AGE: 34 moons.
  
  
• GENDER: Tom
  
  
• DESCRIPTION: Nighthawk is a simple black tom cat—only a tuft of white on his chest and on the insides of his bright green eyes. Though he’s aging like every other cat, he still has the curiosity of a kit and isn’t afraid to play about when there’s no need to be focused in.
  
  
• APPEARANCE: Nighthawk has a build of a warrior—a broad body, head, and medium sized legs, allowing him to run quickly, along with giving him a good reflex time, covered with a thick black coat. His piercing green eyes stand out all the more in contrast with his dark pelt, though he has two ivory specks near his eyes. Along with the white near his eyes, upon his chest sits one more tuft of white, though apart from those exceptions, not another speck of white can be spotted upon his body.
  
  
• PERSONALITY: Even at 34 moons Nighthawk still has the spirit of a new born kit—just as curious as he was at two moons, just as playful, too. However, his curiosity was incredibly beneficial to his development. Having a thirst for knowledge, what this means, what that meant—that was what helped him along his path of becoming a medicine cat. He’s perceptive, as well, searching for anything new or anything he was afraid he may miss. He tends to each cat carefully, cautiously, and tenderly, giving each the remedy they need, along with a lot of care for each one.
  He doesn’t hate much, but he can easily say he despises being alone. Seldom will he collect herbs without an apprentice or a warrior at his side, and if he finds his den empty, he’ll tend to the queens or elders simply to have company around him. Even though he dislikes being alone, it doesn’t take much to keep him company. Silence, so long another is in his presence, will satisfy him as much as an entertaining game will.
  Nighthawk is friendly to all—he’s not sure where the line is drawn, nor who to draw one with. He doesn’t restrict himself from greeting an enemy with a purr, and he wouldn’t hesitate to approach one.
  His major downfall comes from that very trait, as not everyone reciprocates the actions towards him. When a battle breaks out, or others argue, he tends to shy away and moderate what is occurring, unable to handle another with any type of condescending treatment.
  
  
• HISTORY: Growing up, Nightkit was never truly scolded for having fun being the only kit born to his mother, the queen always encouraged him to play about, giving him a hyper spirit that never died down. However, this excitement for everything outside his shelter of the den led him to get sickly more so than the others—every time he could manage during a rain storm he would sneak away from the comfortable warmth of his mother’s belly and into the falling rain droplets, splashing through the puddles eagerly and rolling in the mud. Only when his mother would retrieve him with a short, affection scold would he return in after soaking through to the core. Each sunrise after found him with a nasty cough, earning him a visit from the clan’s medicine cat, who was much less lenient than the queen.
  Time went on, and after five moons, the more time the other kits spent battling with each other led Nightkit further and further in the direction of the medicine den—finding that he would revel in the smells of the herbs each time he entered through the den’s entrance. His curiosity always got the best of him, leaving him knowledgeable about more than just the basics of the herbs before he had even approached his sixth moon. Of course the rest of the clan had also noticed this, especially when an apprentice or warrior approached him about a new battle move and he politely denied wanting to learn it, instead rushing off to join the quickly aging Spottedfoot. Though the she-cat was strict with others, she had a clear soft-spot for the tom. When his six moons finally reached, she had no second thoughts when she approached him, asking if she could take him on as her apprentice. Though he had always grown up believing he’d be a warrior, despite his lack of interest in it, the new pathway in front of him shocked him, and he was hesitant at first. After two more sun rises and falls, though, he returned eagerly to her with the firm answer of ‘yes.’
  After becoming Nightpaw, RiverClan’s new medicine cat apprentice—or future medicine cat as he enjoyed boasting to his mother, the tom didn’t settle in the slightest. Of course Spottedfoot had hoped he would in the least, but she consented with his energy so long he was willing and ready to learn, which he always was. He quickly became the elders’ favorite apprentice as he would visit them to tend to them and each time he would eagerly ask for a story.
  Upon one visit, the eldest tom contained in the elders’ den told the tale that seemed to grow on Nightpaw. Many moons ago, many moons ago, when Stonetail was a newly made warrior, a tragedy came. A hawk, whatever that thing was, Nightpaw didn’t know, built it’s nesting site on the largest tree on the shore of the beach. For many sun rises, warriors sat up, keeping watch over the camp, fearful the two birds would attack the camp. During one clan gathering, as two kits were ready to be made apprentices, when Stonetail was about to get his first apprentice, the patrol returned in rejoice—one hawk was taken down, the other scared off. The tragedy was that the apprentice on patrol with them was deeply wounded, and later died.
  Nightpaw had been particularly fond of that tale once Stonefur had admitted his eyes reminded him of the piercing eyes of the hawk—he had eyes like those of a hawk. He was strong like a hawk, fierce like a hawk, determined like a hawk, and he even had eyes like a hawk.
  Upon finding out his fascination with the hawks, Spottedfoot shook her head affectionately at him—his curiosity always took his mind wandering, teaching even his mentor that letting a mind go off down another path wasn’t always a bad thing, especially when he suggested new remedies—even if they weren’t helpful, he still had managed to throw out a good idea every once in a while.
  When it was time for him to become a full medicine cat, his fascination for the dangerous bird had yet to die down. She rewarded his never relenting curiosity with the name ‘Nighthawk.’ Upon his naming, she asked that he always stay curious and willing to learn, affectionately adding on ‘even if the end result could be an encounter with a hawk.’
  Ten moons after that—Nighthawk attempted helplessly to save her—she had been attacked by rouges during one of her and the leader’s visits to Mothermouth. While she had helped hunt for the apprentice that was accompanying the two she had been cornered by three traveling rogues, and was barley holding on to any of her life by the time the three cats had returned. Nighthawk tried desperately to revive her, but was instead forced to watch as she let go, joining the other deceased in StarClan.
  
  
  
• roleplay thing: Pushing through the bracken marking the entrance to the medicine den, Nightkit looked around warily. “Spottedfoot?” he called out, forcing his way further into the den. He sniffed curiously, and purred as his nose filled with the scent of freshly picked herbs. “Spottedfoot!”
  At this call of the name, a lithe, tri-colored she-cat padded from the storage area and into the open area. “Yes?” she purred, her eyes shining brightly with hope as she awaited the kit’s reason to visit her. She was hoping he had chosen to accept her offer, after all, he was only a few sunrises time away from becoming an apprentice, he needed to decide soon.
  Staring at her determinedly, the black tom announced, “I want to be your apprentice.”
  Spottedfoot let out a warm, cheerful purr, taking a few steps to reach the growing cat, licking between his ears. “I’m glad,” she admitted. “It’ll be nice having your help around all the time, you know.”
  “Will it? I’m happy to help now, too!” Nightkit argued, “But I like your den. And now one day it’ll be my den!”
  She let out a small mewl of agreement before turning her back on him, heading back to where she had come from only moments earlier. “Do you think you could help me sort the herbs I’ve just retrieved?”
  The kit’s ears perked up in excitement, bounding past her and into the delicious smelling den.
  &;
  “So what are we looking for?”
  Nightpaw looked up at his mother and huffed. “I already told you,” he mewed. “Chamomile, most importantly. We’re nearly out and the leader is taking a trip to Mothermouth soon and their company needs the herbs. But we’ve only enough for one cat. When we get that we’ll have to find some feverfew—Stonetail’s joints are aching. And then, if we can, we’ve got to grab a branch of juniper berries.”
  Dapplepelt nodded, following her son where he led. They had ended in an area with too many smells, at least in the she-cat’s mind. Nightpaw looked at her and flicked his tail at her, beckoning her to follow him down the steep, yet small hill. Upon reaching the plants he breathed in deeply and let a loud, happy purr burst from his chest. He twisted his head and nipped at the plants, plucking them from their stems, taking the short stumps of what remained of the stems in his mouth, motioning for Dapplepelt to take the remaining few.
  When she had collected them, he turned on the spot and clambered back up the hill, followed quickly by the she-cat. She stared at him, waiting for him to continue on. He dropped the chamomile on the ground and looked back down the hill. “I could probably collect some marigold while we’re here,” he decided, bounding back down and nipping at the stalks again, taking only enough to replenish what they had used up. When he scrambled back up to her she set her stock down and took half of the stock from him, rushing to hurry up when she looked up to see him bounding off in the direction of the camp. She was thankful when she saw him stalling, prodding at something in the soil. Nearing him, she noticed he was prodding at a thin, blue material that produced an annoying clash like sound when disturbed. She cautiously approached her son, watching as he nosed the opening of the object out of curiosity. “Nightpaw, watch out—it’s probably some two-leg thing.”
  “It can help us,” he decided, squirming back out from the opening. He dropped the herbs from his mouth in it, and motioned for her to do the same. She did, warily, and watched as he took the two holes in the side in his mouth. He started walking, dragging the blue carrier behind him. Each time he tripped over the excess material, though, he would tussle with the blue until he felt he had come out victorious. It was taking them much longer to make their way back to the camp then it had taken them to collect the herb, but Dapplepelt didn’t mind. She adored seeing her kit so happy and carefree.
  &;
  “This is why you don’t stay out during the rain,” Nighthawk chided the small kit. Pebblekit drooped her head in embarrassment as she let out another sneeze.
  “Like you were any better!” Spottedfoot purred affectionately, spitting out the coltsfoot on the leaf. Nighthawk simply beamed at her as he took the leaf in his mouth, placing it before the kit, nosing her side in attempt to get her to take the pulp in her mouth. She accepted it easily, after having heard Nighthawk’s rambling about how much it always seemed to help him in time past. He noticed her eyes force shut as her throat swallowed the herbs, and he ducked down to lick her ear in praise.
  He made his way past the other medicine cat, pushing into the den to collect a small pile of borage leaves he had prepared earlier for when Dapplepelt woke up. She was supposed to be kitting sometime within the next moon or so, and he wanted to keep her well enough and healthy enough. He collected a small portion of alder bark to drop off at the elders den, as well, knowing that Owlbracken was still complaining of her toothache.
  He rushed through both tasks and returned soon enough to bid his leader and Spottedfoot farewell, after presenting the accompanying apprentices and warrior with their traveling herbs.
  He returned to the den, tossing a mossball back and forth with Pebblekit to keep her entertained during her stay in the den, as well as himself.
  
  ^ Yeah, it's not done really, but I feel bad for making you wait, and considering I have to go do a few things for my parents, I decided it was good enough and could post it for now. Sorry. x.x
  
  

[/li][/ul]

[fyrefacey ★]

accepted into the vanity faire!
congrats, korkk, you've been chosen for the riverclan medicine cat c:
make us proud! <3