Post by .:Lion:. on Jan 16, 2011 17:43:08 GMT -5
Name: Lastsong
Age: 26 moons
Gender: Male
Clan: SkyClan
Position: Medicine Cat
Description: Lastsong is a long-haired grey tabby tom with smoky fur and ebony-black stripes. He has the strong hind legs of Ancient SkyClan, along with the sleek long body of his purebred mother. His pale green eyes are a bit narrow and sometimes give off an angry look, but he's not as rough as he sometimes appears. He has one strange marking on his right shoulder that is shaped like a songbird. He has a long, thinly furred but elegant tail, though the rest of his body can appear rather scruffy at times. His ears are pointed with fur at the tips, and sometimes look too slim for a cat's, depending on the angle you're viewing them at. His paws are small for his size, but it makes it easier to get to his stores of herbs. Lastsong has a slightly arched nose, giving him a more regal, intimidating look (all the more so because of his eyes). His whiskers are oddly black at the tips, matching his nose and markings. The patched tip of his tail is the only variation to his fine coloring next to his song-bird mark (which is also white). Lastsong's claws are pale grey, like his body, and wickedly curved. The only exception there is the two claws missing on his left paw, lost when he was a kit. The only other scars Lastsong has are on his neck, just below his chin - puncture wounds, though from what it can't be guessed.
Personality: Lastsong is about as prickily as they come - or so it seems. He is very sarcastic and likes to make up dumb jokes that amuse pretty much him alone. He is quiet and a bit withdrawn. Most cats find him very hard to get along with, and others are easily intimidated by his looks and his surly attitude. But Lastsong is actually very caring and compassionate. He's observant, and likes to use this ability to take care of his Clanmate's mental health as much as their physical. His reasons for becoming a medicine cat are unclear, but even so it's his passion and his life, and though he can be a grump he's not all bad. Lastsong is smart, as well, even if he can be a bit dense (especially when it becomes to relationships in the Clan). He often takes things at face value and has a hard time understanding the illogical. He can be very gentle and patient, though, when he feels like it. Lastsong is guarded, though, and rarely talks about himself. Some cats think he built up a wall long ago, but what exactly he's hiding from is any cat's guess...
History:
The morning sunlight fell upon the Twoleg garden. The sounds of crows cawing and dogs barking filled the air, a distracting but not altogether unpleasant symphony. A she-cat sat on a rock near her fence, waiting. At her paws sat a small kit, silent and still as if it were dead. As the she-cat watched, a thick-set, scruffy-looking tabby tom padded from the shelter of the forest. She leapt off the rock, rushing to meet him, touching noses as his strange but familiar scent filled her nostrils.
"How are you, my love?" She asked softly, her voice and eyes like water, smooth and shining. Her pelt was as black as midnight, and as silky as a sigh, soft beneath the touch and silver in the moonlight. But now, the sun's first rays were illuminating it, turning it darker, blacker, more mysterious.
"As fine as I will ever be, I suppose." He looked down at the kit, whose still form was unnerving.
"And the other?" He asked quietly. The she-cat did not respond. Her eyes turned away quickly, and she tried to hide her sorrow. But the tom saw it and bowed his head.
"What did you name this little one, then?" He probbed, looking down at the kit that had his fur and his eyes but his mother's sleek build.
"Lastkit," she replied with a slight smile.
"And you're sure this is what you want?" He met her gaze, and she looked away again, past him, into the forest.
"Yes," she said at last, glancing down at her kit. The young tom's green-grey eyes stared up at her sadly, filled with too much knowing and pain for one so young. The expression broke the she-cat's heart, and she could no longer bear to subject him to more disaster and strife. "I am sure," she said firmly.
"Alright. He will have a good life in SkyClan. I promise." With that, the tabby tom touched the she-cat's muzzle with his gently, then scooped up the kit and darted off into the forest.
.*~|~*.
"That Lastkit is so quiet. He's weird." Lastkit's ear twitched as he listened to his denmates make fun of him - again. He was sick of all the whining and the stares and the rejection. He didn't have any friends, except for the medicine cat, Softfeather.
"What's bothering you, Lastkit?" The young she-cat asked when he entered her den, his expression slightly wrinkled, telling his friend that he was irritated.
"The kits are talking about me again." He grumbled. Softfeather looked at him and then at the herbs near her paws.
"Why don't you help me sort through these and see if you can get all of the marigold out? I accidently dropped them all together." She sighed, tapping the bundle of leaves. Lastkit bowed his head and got to work. He glanced up a couple times at Softfeather. The Medicine cat was almost twelve moons old - very young to be the only Medicine cat in the Clan. But her mentor, Shorttail, had died early and left the Clan in her care.
"I'm older than all of them. I'm eight moons. I should be an apprentice! But no one wants to mentor me..." He sighed.
"That's not true. The Clan is just short on available warriors right now and Horizonstar wants the best for you." Softfeather said gently.
"No, he's just too busy with his dumb kits to care about me." Lastkit muttered.
"What if I told you that I have an opening?" Softfeather asked suddenly, watching as Lastkit expertly seperated the herbs, not even checking to see if the smells were the same - he knew marigold and many other herbs by sight alone.
"An opening for what?" Lastkit asked, looking up at her.
"You could be my apprentice. Would you like that?" From the look on his face, Softfeather guessed he would.
.~*|*~.
The whole Clan was gathered, looking up as Lastpaw - or maybe something else now? - followed his mentor up from the Cave of Whispers. Softfeather paused for a moment, then turned and gave him a wide smile.
"From this day forward," she said proudly, "My apprentice is no longer that. He is no longer Lastpaw. He is my partner. Lastsong." They touched noses as the Clan cheered. Whatever misgivings they'd had about him before, they were all proud of him and his hard work now. Softfeather smiled at him, and Lastsong couldn't help but smile back, feeling proud and elated and maybe a tiny tinge of something else...
.*~|~*.
The clearing seemed dark and dismal. Lastsong did not look up from his mentor's body, which lay prone, still and cold, on the ground before him. He had no words, no ability to say what he felt. But he knew he must say something.
"May our ancestors grant her the place among them that she deserves. I pray that your path to StarClan is easy, my dear friend," he said softly, bowing his head. His Clanmates were silent with shock. Lastsong rarely showed much emotion, but ever since Softfeather had been taken back to camp, lifeless and cold, he'd looked so heartbroken they had no idea what to say to him.
"How did she die?" One cat murmured to another.
"I'm not sure. Internal bleeding I think," the other replied.
"There was a lot of blood..." An apprentice said - he'd been on the patrol that had been in the part of the forest she was found. The Clan's deputy, Lockedheart, had found her body.
"Shhh." One warrior said, casting a glance at Lastsong. But his face gave no sign of hearing. He bowed his head and turned to retreat into his den, leaving his stunned Clanmates behind him.
