Foxpaw

[Pyro]

I start up in the north, I grow from special seed|
Krissy Foxpaw Foxtail

I sprinkle it with sensibility|
She-cat

From French and Hungarian snow|
8 moons

I linger in the sprouting until my engine's full|
Apprentice

Then I move across the sea|
FogClan

To European bliss|
A higher power? Of course. Foxpaw believes you don't have to be clanborn or even clan-taught to know that. To be alone in the world, truly alone...how could anyone want that? How could anyone move on after a death without knowing that their friends and family will always be with them, not just in their hearts, but their dreams and actions as well. It is a small comfort to know that their bodies will return to the Earth. But what really comforts you and gives you the ability to press onward is the strength they will give you and the knowledge that they are not truly dead.

The clans gave Foxpaw a name to apply to this higher power, to where her loved ones went: StarClan. She was hooked as soon as the name was uttered. Something about it felt right. Something about it fit. StarClan was comfort, strength, wisdom, survival, life in death...it was real. To doubt it...It existed. How could it not? The leaders of the clans who accept StarClan...Well she hasn't seen any evidence of nine lives yet, but the medicine cats certainly do seem to commune with StarClan.

However, for all her belief and confidence in StarClan, it is not her wish to become a medicine cat. She could never handle being so close with her ancestors. Seeing the dead while alive is much different than knowing they still have life. And so she is content to know they still exist in her heart, her mind, and in StarClan.

To language of poets|
Mother; Juanita [NP] //unknown
Father; Rimmer [NP] //unknown

As I cut the cord of home |
Brother; Lister [NP] //deceased
Sister; Holly [NP] //deceased

I kiss my mother's mother|
Grandmother; Kochanski [NP] //living

Look to the horizon|
No mate as of yet.

Wide eyed, new ground |
No crushes as of yet.

Humbled by my new surroundings|
Foxpaw believes she is much too young to worry herself with kits.

I am a citizen of the planet|
Birchtail

My president is Kuan Yin|
Foxpaw...is small.

There's no real denying it. She's the smallest apprentice in FogClan. With her size you'd think her still in kithood. But of course, she's not. She's an apprentice. Unfortunately, she doesn't really protest cats looking down on her for her size. Or if she does, she says her contradictions too softly to be heard. Why invite trouble over a silly thing like size? That's not to say she doesn't mind the prods. She does. They're too constant to be ignored and the truth hurts.

Perhaps if she was larger, her semi-long fox-like fur would make her very beautiful. However, her kit-ish appearance negates any effects it might have on toms. The reaction most have to her, tom or otherwise, is that she's cute. Not, I-like-you-cute, but kit-cute. For this reason she tries to sit up straight and look as focused on business as possible. Unfortunately, she only looks silly, like a kit trying to act like her leader.

And if her small size wasn't enough, there is her large, puffy tail. White-tipped and slightly striped, the bothersome floof-thing is her bane. How can anyone take her seriously with a tail like that at her size and look? They can't. And her too-big-for-her whiskers? Foxpaw can only hope she grows into her tail and whiskers. If not, she she'll be destined to be a freak...At least, in her opinion.

The only truly serious thing about Foxpaw is her eyes. So dark an orange they're almost brown, they are always downcast. Though she hates being called short, small, etc, she really does nothing to improve upon that image. If anything, she unknowingly supports it by trying to seem as small as possible when around other cats. She doesn't want to be noticed. When you go noticed you stay in safety.

My frontier is on an airplane|
Quiet, reserved, withdrawn.

Her nature is as small as her size. Once a talkative cat, her less than ideal transfer into the clan-cat life has created a cat as quiet as snowfall. She doesn't mind fading into the background where she can silently observe the going-on of the clan. Part of the reason for this is that she knows so little of clan-life. She doesn't want to do something wrong and provoke some awful rage from a cat she barely knows.

Foxpaw's only real attachment to FogClan is one of religion. They seem to be her answer to what she's been looking for spiritually. Their very leader, Miststar, is the epitome of spiritual guidance. From what she's been told, Miststar is a savior sent down from StarClan themselves. That being the case, clearly FogClan is the best clan to be in.

Foxpaw generally avoids contact with everyone except her mentor. She believes the less cats see her, the less likely they'll be to dwell upon her size and reflect that she is quite possibly useless. Which in her opinion, she really is. Can she fight? She can dodge, but what good is that? One carefully timed paw-slap could send her careening into a nearby tree. She can track...but what good is that if you can't catch anything?

If she took the time to consider her talents, perhaps Foxpaw would realize she is intelligent. However, being one to focus on her bad aspects, she doesn't pay attention to her quick mind. She's truthfully full of ideas, but a fear of public speaking keeps her mouth shut.

This she-cat could be a real rebel if she wasn't so darn shy. She naturally rebels against authority in her mind. But of course, transferring that to her actions is a whole other matter. It's safe to say that even if she disagrees with an order she'll do it with a meek 'Yes, sir or yes mam'.

My prisons: homes for rehabilitating|
Silent pawsteps and an observant eye make Foxpaw a very good tracker. However, she doesn't take pride in this talent because she's not very good at catching the actual prey. Her fighting could use some serious...weight. She's quick enough and very apt at dodging and weaving around her opponents, but when it comes down to it she doesn't have the weight to pin or the strength to knock an opponent to the ground.

Her true strength lies in her mind which is very adept at making plans...Plans that she doesn't share because of her shyness. Perhaps if she was more outspoken she would command more respect.

Then I fly back to my nest, I fly back with my nuclear but everything is different|
"Kits. In the dead of cold-wind. We must be crazy, Rimmer."

"Juanita, Juanita. Love is crazy. It doesn't have to be practical, it doesn't have to make sense. Love is...love. The kits will be fine. I promise I'll protect you. Protect you all."

But protecting against the cold is hard. Things happen. Newborn kits die. Krissy and Lister's littermate Holly died that first night before they even had the chance to know her properly. Rimmer and Juanita knew they had to move to a warmer den, but how could they?

Quickly, was how. Almost as soon as Holly was taken by cold-wind's cruel icy air, they picked up their remaining kits and ran. They found and old barn, not quite abandoned, full of the warmth of other animals and hay. It would be chancy to raise their kits right on the doorstep of twolegs...but it was warm. They had to risk all for the warmth that would help their kits live. But they were weakened by the sudden travel so soon after birth. Krissy was teetering on the edge of death, her smaller than normal body racked by uncontrollable shivers.

Rimmer and Juanita tried their best to save her, even neglecting poor Lister to do it. They thought he was the strongest. They thought once he was in the warmth he'd survive. They were wrong.

Disturbed by the loss of two kits in so short a time, Juanita could barely care for Krissy. So when she was old enough for longer travel, they took her to her grandmother, Kochanski, and left. But of course, Kochanski was old. Much to old to care for a kit. Still, she tried her best, all the while muttering prayers to some being in the sky.

"Grandmum, whatcher doin?"

"I'm praying to my own grandmother for wisdom. She helped me raise your mother, you know."

"Does she live in the sky?"

Kochanski smiled. "You could say that. She lives there with all of our family, even your siblings."

"Holly and Lister are still alive?"

Her grandmother's eyes filled with sadness. So young. So young and already she knew the pain of seeing death. She worried the young she-cat would be changed...for the worse. And so she told her of how when one died, they didn't really die. their spirit just left for a place in the heavens to watch over their kin. Krissy clung to the idea with all of her heart. everyone was still alive. Just not with her. And yet...somehow...always with her. In spirit.

"There is a place you must go, my dear heart."

"Do I get to see my brother and sister again?"

"No, no. It will be a long while before you go to them. There is another place, where a large group of cats live. I talked with some of them when they first arrived. They promised protection for elders like me...but, I like my home. They might offer the same protection for kits like you, who could grow to be strong protectors for them turn. And they...they believe as we do, Krissy. there is a specific group of them you must find, one who call themselves after thick mist, ah, Fog. Fog-something. I will take you to the edge of their territory."

Krissy was confused by the idea of it all, but nontheless followed her grandmother when the time came. Together ( well, really Kochanski), they found a patrol who agreed to take the loner kit who believed in her ancestors as they did in their's. Only they had even more knowledge of it than her grandmother. They had a name.

They had StarClan.