[Silk]

SILTSTEP

BASICS

NAME ► Siltstep
AGE ► 97 moons (just over eight years)
GENDER ► female
PRONOUNS ► she/her
RANK ► Warrior
CLAN ► Riverclan

DESCRIPTIONS

ONE LINER ► a dull cream cat mottled with white
Art ► Sprite from Clangen (will be changed to art once I get some done!)

DETAILED ► Siltstep is a short-haired, almost gray, cream cat, mottled with white like sea foam over pebbles. She is strong, although not bulky, and bears many scars across her pelt, many of them still only the silvered crisscrossing lines of wounds long healed, but just as many disguised in fur grown back white. The fur around her muzzle is just barely beginning to silver. Her eyes are a bright, ever watching yellow and blue. Her front leg is adorned by the badly healing bite of a fox, a couple moons old now, though healing slowly, and it is clear it will never quite heal fully, despite efforts. It aches in the rain, and cool weather, and she walks with a pronounced limp.

PERSONALITY

DETAILED ► Stubbornly resilient, Siltstep has refused time and time again to rest when she ought to, or to even stop for just a moment to catch her breath. It is not unlikely that this contributed to the prolonged healing of her leg, although it is certainly not the only factor. Her stubbornness was praised in her youth, though as she grows older it is more of a bad habit she finds herself too attached to to let go of. She is reluctant always to rest, prefering to keep her paws busy and her mind at work, although that has been becoming more difficult as of late. Sometimes, the excitement of younger cats wears on her a little, but she tries not to hold it against them too much.

Once pious, honoring Starclan at every opportunity, her prayers have long since gone quiet. She listens to the prayers of others, and does not speak against them, but she cannot remember the last time her heart was in it, herself.

RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER ► deceased
MOTHER ► deceased
SIBLINGS ► deceased

MATE ► n/a
OFFSPRING ► n/a

MENTOR ► ?
APPRENTICE(S) ► n/a

HISTORY

TRIGGER WARNINGS ► illness, death, drowning

► Second born of a litter of two, Siltkit was quiet, obedient, and curious, traits which grew into a watchful, loyal apprentice. She was often among the first to rise, and among the last to rest, forming her habit of tireless work early, before the exhaustion could catch up to her quite as easily. This is not to say she was always moving--often her sense of work included keeping watch, even over a camp already well guarded. Her best skills were those of combat, speed, and surefootedness, earning her the name Siltstep, for the ease with which she crosses the most slippery of stepping stones on the river. The leafbare before her graduation, both her parents caught ill and made their trek to Starclan. One might have made it if the other had not died, but where one went, the other was quick to follow. Siltstep does not remember either of them very well, but she and her brother were often told they were good, honorable cats.

She grew to pride herself on her prowess in battle, earning scars upon scars that she wore with pride. She thanked Starclan for her good luck when hunting, and for her good favor in battle, and she often would be seen watching the stars, speaking quietly to herself as if speaking to them, to her parents who were said to watch over them all. It wasn't until her third year that her faith began to wane, when she and her brother went out to watch the runoff flood the river, turning it muddy and reminding it of rage. They were both showoffs in their youth, though they had both grown out of that somewhat, until they goaded each other on, both daring and matching dares of their own. Siltstep could prance over the floodwaters, paws only gracing the spray, landing where she knew each stone to be for just a second before moving on. Her brother, known for his strength in the water, dared to try swimming it.

She knew it was his own choice, she knew it was his own fault, she knew she had not been the one to suggest it, although she had wanted to see him succeed. His body washed out to the sea, and fell under the waves, and there was nothing of him to bring home or to bury. She knew it was his own doing, but she still wailed to Starclan, asking why they did not help him, did not save him, did not call for both of them? She might have understood, if it were them both, but they should not have taken him and left her all alone.

Even more than in her apprenticeship, when she worked for pride, Siltstep threw herself into her duties now in grief. Her habits solidified, her sleep rarely easy, and exhaustion always pulling at her bones, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. She was not unpleasant to be around, but her focus narrowed, and her paws were always busy.

Only a few moons ago now, she was out hunting alone when she came upon a fox and her pups. Both sides survived, but Siltstep came away with a torn up leg that in the moons since still hasn't healed quite right. She has been encouraged to take time off to rest, or even to retire, once it became clear that the wound would not heal quite right, but she has refused, pushing herself to perform her duties as well as she can, still. Pushing herself to be useful, if nothing else.

Though she may once have dreamed of becoming deputy, or even leader of Riverclan, those dreams were set aside years ago, and now she longs for a quiet night, with no sense of duty pulling at her as she watches other cats work while she is at rest.

---

Photograph from Pexels

[viv]

accepted! do your claims here and here!