Nearly a warrior now, Milkpaw is blossoming into a rather pretty molly. Her fur is dense, of medium length, and primarily a soft, pale cream. She has lynx point markings of dilute tortoiseshell, which highlight the blue of her wide, expressive eyes. Her ear fur and whiskers are notably long, giving her an air of whimsy.

Her posture is upright but not rigid, as she holds herself with a fluid energy that, more often than not, has her bouncing around on the tips of her toes. Her tail is active and emotive, often lashing in excitement, and her ears are typically perked forward. She has a tendency to chatter.

Mossflower's labor was long and exhausting. Two moons after the battle, and the medicine cat's eyes were tired as he guided her through her breathing. The other queens lingered in the periphery. Junipercloud whispered a constant stream of encouragements. If she called out a name, the other cats pretended not to hear; it wasn't their business who the father was.

One of the kits was stillborn, but that still left four kits wriggling closer to her side, mewling in protest against the rasp of being cleaned. Four kits to love and to raise in this wounded clan. Mossflower fell asleep to the patter of rain outside.

She almost laughed when she saw them in the morning, curled up at her belly; all four were a gradient of color, ranging from pure white to tabby. By the time Lotusfire brought her herbs that day, she'd named them Snowkit, Milkkit, Featherkit, and Wolfkit.

"Wolfkit?" one of the queens had asked. There was a glint of worry in her eyes.

"I've always liked the name," Mossflower retorted sleepily. She was still so tired! Lovingly, she tucked Wolfkit closer to her side. "And I won't let him taint it forever; my little girl will take it from him."

The kits grew fast, as kits are wont to do, but it never seemed to be fast enough for them. Especially the youngest, Milkkit.

"C'mon, Snow," she whispered to her brother, nudging against his side. He squirmed and shot her a harried look. "We should sneak out while mom's not here! Please? I just wanna see outside the camp!"

"Outside the camp?" he lamented. "Can't we just look outside the nursery?" But Milkkit had already tottered away, heading for the bright point of light that would take them out of the earthen den.

The light hurt her eyes. She squinted against it, rubbing her face with a paw, until it all swam into focus. "Wow!" she gasped, sitting back on her haunches as her gaze traveled up... up... The tops of the trees seemed to fade right into the sky! The world was so big...

The feeling never left her.

"You know," Wolfkit said reasonably, "you should be more careful. If you cause too much trouble, we could be held back and not be made apprentices by our sixth—hey!"

Milkkit leapt back out of reach, giggling past a mouthful of alabaster fur. "Catch me if you can!"

"I will not—Feather, stop!" Featherkit danced out of reach as well, wriggling playfully. Together, the two sisters harried their responsible older sibling, until they all fell laughing into their nest, unable to keep it up any longer.

They had almost calmed when Snowkit reached out and took a quick bat at Wolfkit's tail, and the laughter erupted all over again.

By the time they reached six moons, none of the queens could quite hide their relief at having them out of the nursery; they were much too big now, and caused far too much ruckus.

"I hope my mentor is the leader," Milkkit said, leaping to her paws and puffing out her chest importantly. Snowkit sighed.

"I just hope mine isn't strict," he lamented.

Neither of them got their wish. Snowkit—now Snowpaw—was apprenticed to a steely-gazed molly called Wrenthorn. He dragged his paws all the way to the base of the Sky Tree, and his ears lowered as he touched noses with her.

Chin up, Snowpaw, Milkkit mouthed at him, before she was called forward.

"Milkkit," Hailstar said, and her eyes gleamed with excitement. He smiled at her. "From this point on you will be known as Milkpaw. Your mentor will be Dawnclaw."

Dawnclaw! He wasn't the leader, but ever since he'd come to MistClan, all any of the warriors talked about was how hard of a worker he was. Milkpaw just hoped he didn't expect her to work that hard.

She bounced on the tips of her paws as Dawnclaw stepped forward, and reached up so quickly to touch noses that they bonked together instead; she tried not to laugh, but the snort that escaped her made her giggle. "Oops!"

Hailstar waited patiently while they stepped to the side, and the clan called out their new names in celebration. Milkpaw sat taller, red paint still cooling on her brow. Like a low, thrumming song just beneath the chatter of the ceremony, the world called out to her.

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While Milkpaw is young and naive to the circumstances that caused the battle, she's determined not to let suspicion and hostility make its roots in her life. Currently, with her outgoing personality, she most closely aligns with the beliefs of the Leaves from [MistClan's plot ad.]

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Milkpaw sees her family as perfect. She loves her mother and siblings with her entire heart, and is always happy to be around them. She is especially close to her brother, Wolfpaw: ever since they were young, she always felt like they understood each other better than anyone else. Despite their opposing personalities, the two siblings are closely bonded.

She doesn't know a stranger, that's for sure! Milkpaw considers most cats she knows as friends, even if they've only met once. It's not easy to get on her bad side.

With how easily she's made friends as an apprentice, she never really felt the need for romance. As Milkpaw gets older and a lot of her friends start dating, though, she finds herself curious what all the hype is about.

About her bad side... It takes a lot to get there, but foremost on the list is making a move against her family. She definitely considers Wolfpaw's bullies to be rivals.

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