A lithe white cat with silver tabby patches, curled ears, and cloudy hazel eyes.

With long legs, a narrow chest, and a lithe physique, Aspenrain looks every inch a Mistclanner. Their fur is primarily white, with silver tabby patches on their head, back and tail, and has a short, fluffy texture. It's thicker around their neck and head, giving them an almost owl-like appearance when they tuck in their chin. Their ears curl back slightly at the tips, like petals.

Their eyes are hazel green, lightly clouded, and radiating a peacefulness that's reflected in their posture. They are soft spoken, with a soothing smile and calm demeanor.

Frostfern and Goosebelly, while a surprising pair due to their difference in personality, were nonetheless a loving one. Frostfern's nervous indecision gave way to Goosebelly's warm exuberance, each helping to ground the other. The clan rejoiced with them when they announced their first litter.

Aspenkit was born without siblings, but that was never a disappointment to Frostfern and Goosebelly; they knew their lives together would be long, and there would be plenty of time for more kits. In the meantime, they poured all their love into one.

Aspenkit's time in the nursery was idyllic. Looking back, they remember all the wonders of a brand new world, with the trees stained bright golds and reds in leaf-fall, which only gave way to beautiful glittering white in leaf-bare. They remember the love of their parents, with Frostfern's bright green eyes full of life and love, and Goosebelly's easy laugh and thundering purr.

When Aspenpaw returned to camp from their first outing as an apprentice, new growth just starting to burst through the forest, they joined their parents for a celebratory dinner. The night was full of laughter and joy, only heightened by the news that Frostfern and Goosebelly were once again trying for kits.

A bright future stretched before Aspen's paws, backed by the love of their parents and the promise of little siblings on the way.

"You'll want to keep your tail in line with your spine," Cloudspots said from the next branch over. "That's so it doesn't brush any leaves below or above you." He laughed. "I've lost so many squirrels by waving my tail around!"

Aspenpaw snorted a laugh, lashing their tail to dislodge a few acorns, which pattered on the forest floor below them. Their eyes glittered with mischief. "Like this, then? I'm gonna be the best hunter in the clan! You'll have apprentices begging you to teach them."

"Aspenpaw!" Both cats whipped their heads around as pawsteps came pattering through the woods, and Warblerpaw erupted from a cluster of ferns, panting. "Come quick! It's your dad!"

They don't remember their run back to camp, only the haze of passing branches overlaid with dread, ears ringing with the race of their heart. "Mom!" They can see her white pelt through a circle of cats below the Sky Tree, and they shoulder their way through, only to freeze when they reach her side. At her paws is a familiar striped pelt, soaked so thoroughly it's almost black. 

"I'm sorry," a warrior sobs, voice distant to Aspenpaw's ears. "We were fishing by the river and he—he slipped on the rocks."

Goosebelly, such an energetic young tom full of life and vigor, so quick to laugh, is as still as the ground beneath him.

"Mom?" they rasp, fur bristling along their spine. Their gaze is fixed on their father, praying to spot even the faintest rise and fall of his chest. "Mom?"

Mom? They open their eyes to darkness. Aspenpaw waits in stillness as their eyes adjust. The other apprentices breathe around them, asleep, and they almost jump at a small movement from a lower branch. 

"Aspenpaw," the medicine cat, Lotusfire, whispers again. Their green eyes gleam in the dark, giving nothing away. "It's time."

When Aspenpaw is ten moons old, Frostfern delivers two small kittens, pale gray and white just like their parents. Just like Aspenpaw. She grooms them mechanically, eyes distant. 

"What about their names?" Aspenpaw asks as the kits crawl blindly towards her belly. She watches them as if from a distance. She doesn't respond. "Mom?"

"They look like him," she murmurs.

By the next day, Frostfern's condition has not improved. She's listless. Aspenpaw can't even get her to eat. She still hasn't named the kits, despite Aspen's best efforts.

Cloudspots visits the nursery often to check on his apprentice. He doesn't push for any training, and Aspenpaw is grateful for his understanding and support. The world suddenly weighs so heavily on them; they don't mind if their warrior ceremony is pushed back.

It gets even heavier when Frostfern passes during the night. Aspenpaw doesn't even have the energy to weep at her vigil.

"I'll take care of them, honey." A warm side presses against them as they watch over their mother's body, and they look up into the gentle eyes of one of the queens. Junipercloud was always present, always kind in Frostfern's final days. "My kit is just a little older. They won't starve, I promise."

She keeps her promise. Aspenpaw resumes their training, but makes time to take care of their siblings every day in the nursery. In Frostfern's absence, they give them the names Birchkit and Lilykit.

"You're like a queen yourself, with how much time you spend in here," one of the queens teases. Junipercloud shushes her.

"Aspenpaw is more responsible than any other 'paw her age," she chides. "She's as welcome here as any of us."

"Just saying, I won't be surprised when she becomes a full-time queen."

Aspenpaw bends their head to resume cleaning Birchkit's ears. The little gray kit wriggles in playful protest. Would it be so terrible? they wonder. Their time spent in the nursery is always their favorite part of the day, even over training. Was warriorhood just not for them?

They're thirteen moons old when it seems the decision is made for them.

"Aspen, get the moss ball!" Lilykit squeals, bouncing impatiently on the tips of her paws. They stare at where they heard it land, but can't make out any shapes among the grass.

The next day, they miss a mouse. "It was a fox-length in front of your face," Cloudspots teases. At Aspenpaw's silence, his amusement turns to concern. 

Aspenpaw visits the medicine den. Lotusfire moves a series of objects further and further away. When each object, a stick or clump of moss, reaches a certain point, Aspenpaw can't see it anymore. 

Their vision was failing. But it hadn't always been like this. Was it getting worse? Even if it wasn't, their difficulty with seeing things at a distance would impede their duties as a warrior. It's almost a relief.

Aspenpaw asks them to tell no one; the last thing they need is to worry their little siblings. 

"I want to become a weaver," Aspenpaw says quietly. Leaves rustle around them on the hot afternoon, alive in a way they'd never noticed before. Maybe they just never stopped to pay attention.

Cloudspots is quiet before he says anything, a variety of emotions crossing his face. He always was easy to read, and so quick to blame himself. "Is it my fault?"

Aspenpaw can't help but to smile. "It's no one's fault," they assure gently. "It's just my calling, I'm sure of it now; being a warrior just isn't for me. You've been the best mentor I could've asked for, and you'll always be my best friend."

They're reassigned to a weaver called Mantisfrost. She's so quiet that Aspenpaw has to lean closer to hear her when she speaks. At first, they wonder if she mumbles because she's shy. But after a few days, they realize she's just occupied in a world of her own.

"The trees talk to each other," she murmurs, carefully wedging a new branch between two others, taking advantage of its young flexibility to shape the hollow for a new nest in the warriors' tree. "You can hear them in the ground."

That doesn't make sense to Aspenpaw. If trees could talk, wouldn't they talk above the ground? They couldn't imagine the trees would be able to hear each other in the dirt. "What do you mean?" they ask.

Mantisfrost merely wanders away to work on the barrier. They quickly follow; it didn't take them long to realize that if they wanted to learn, they'd have to keep up with her and watch carefully.

She was nothing like Cloudspots.

A weaver's work, Aspenpaw realizes, was much different than a warrior's work. In warrior training, the most fundamental aspect was Aspenpaw's control of their own body. As a weaver, that was secondary at best; their first priority now was attention to the world around them.

They begin to wonder if they made the wrong choice. How much could they monitor with their eyesight worsening by the day?

"The bud on the end," Mantisfrost instructs. "It is the greenest, so it is the youngest."

Aspenpaw leans close to the trailing branch, trying to pick out what they knew would be a brighter green against the mossy bark. The greens were too close.

Mantisfrost tilts her head. "You cannot see." She states it simply, not as a question but as a fact. As realization. Aspenpaw's ears burn. They open their mouth, but no sound comes out. Their mentor speaks instead. "Do not use your eyes. Use your whiskers. Taste its scent; it will be different."

With a quiet, resigned breath, Aspenpaw closes their eyes, leaning closer to the branch and brushing their whiskers down its length. Without the distraction of straining the limits of their sight, they realize they can feel every bump and variation in the bark. They find a bump near the end, and when they take in its scent, find it a brighter smell than anything around it, standing out against the earthiness of the mossy bark. 

"Look for the scent of sap," Mantisfrost mumbles. "There is more sap in new growth; sap to grow. Sap to live."

"I found it." Aspenpaw opens their eyes, and it's almost disappointing to be greeted by the blurriness of their world. After their clarity with the branch, they feel more blind than ever.

Maybe they were imagining it, but they could swear Mantisfrost seemed pleased.

Weaver training gets easier after that. While distant and, sure, strange, Mantisfrost isn't the worst teacher. And now that Aspenpaw is paying attention, they learn quickly.

While their vision worsens, their understanding of the forest around their home increases. They're eighteen moons old, closing their eyes against a vague shift of light and shadow to feel the weave of blackberry vines between their claws, when Mantisfrost speaks.

"You're ready now."

Aspenpaw opens their eyes. The blurry shape of the cat next to them tilts her head. "For what?"

"You can learn the rest without me."

Realizing what their mentor was saying, warmth flooded through them. All at once, a variety of emotions broke through the cracks of their composure, all the frustration, anxiety, and grief washed over with relief. Had they been so terrified to be an apprentice all their life, hiding their blindness and unsure if they fit in as a weaver?

They weep. Mantisfrost sits beside them in silence, providing comfort in the only way she can.

The chatter of cats, laughter and joy, permeates the air. All around them are shadows, drenched in dusk, but the warmth within them could light up the forest; they at last have their name.

"Aspenrain!" Lily shouts above the hum of celebration. She and Birchpaw bundle into their side, giggling. "Your name is so pretty! I'm jealous!"

"What, is your name not pretty enough?" Aspenrain teases, licking her over the ears. She makes a yuck! noise in protest, but her thundering purr betrays her.

"We're still 'paws, it doesn't count!" Birchpaw whines. "I can't wait to get my name!"

"I'm getting mine first!" Lilypaw insists.

"We get them at the same time, dummy, we're littermates!"

Aspenrain can't help but laugh. "Come on, be nice to your sister," they say gently. "Let's get something to eat; I think Junipercloud is telling a story now."

Settling in next to Cloudspots in the circle around the gray queen, Aspenrain feels a serenity wash over them, shoulder-to-shoulder with their friends and family.

But nothing lasts forever.

The tension with RidgeClan finally boils over, and MistClan's warriors go to battle. Cloudspots is with them, scent muddled in the surge of warriors, and Aspenrain can't dispel the image of his pale coat disappearing into the froth of a raging river.

They stay in the nursery with the youngest apprentices. Lilypaw and Birchpaw barely speak. The kits are silent. Junipercloud, taking a shuddering breath, starts to tell a story. It's one that Aspenrain remembers from their kithood, about giant cats chasing the sun and moon across the sky like moss-balls.

It helps to ease the tension. But the moment a sentry outside calls out that the battle-party is returning, Aspenrain sprints from the den.

They weave between their clanmates, whiskers brushing bloodied fur, the scents of pain and fear pressing in on their senses. "Cloudspots!" they call, unable to find him in the throng.

Then a nose touches their pelt and they whirl around. A pale, blurry shape stands in front of them, and they lean forward to touch his nose. "Cloud..." They rub their face against his, breathing in his scent, eyes watering with relief. "Cloud, are you hurt?"

The tom wheezes, and it takes Aspenrain a moment to realize he's laughing. "What, me? This is nothing; I'll tell you and the kids the story later, okay? It's a good one, I promise."

He puts on a brave face, but Aspenrain can feel him shaking.

The clan is shaken after the battle, of course; many cats never returned, and new fear permeates the forest. It's quick to bloom into suspicion, even against PrairieClan, despite their part in winning the battle.

It gets worse.

A wail cuts above the dusky evening. Lilypaw jolts upright from her crouch, eyes wide, the firefly forgotten. Aspenrain tears across the clearing and nearly collides with another cat at the nursery entrance.

"My kits!" Irisfrost wails. She's a first-time queen, her kits only a couple of moons old. "They're gone!"

Nearly every cat in the clan is mobilized, patrols scouring in a radius out from camp. A cat-scent is found, but it's so muddled by the tang of crushed ferns it's impossible to identify.

It's like the kits had disappeared into thin air.

Accusations start to fly around the camp, directed first at RidgeClan, then some loners that had been scented hunting on the territory recently, then to PrairieClan. Opinions are divided. Hysteria threatens to break loose.

Crickets drone outside, muffled by the earthen walls of the nursery. Junipercloud grooms Irisfrost's fur in a steady rasp, the young queen having long since succumbed to sleep.

"Poor dear," Junipercloud whispers. "Her mother visits, but only to tell her she should be happy she's still young, with plenty of time for more kits. Can you believe that?"

Aspenrain's ears lay back, chest aching with sympathy. "That's callous," they murmur.

After a while, Lilypaw comes to fetch them for another of Birchpaw's nightmares. They both curl around Birchpaw in the apprentices' den, listening to hushed descriptions of shadows with unfriendly eyes and grasping claws, until the little molly is finally soothed back to sleep.

Aspenrain rests their head on Birchpaw's, closing their eyes. "I won't let anything happen to you," they whisper. "I promise."

Aspenrain was only an apprentice when their family crumbled around them. After their father was lost to an accident by the river, their mother fell ill from grief and passed into StarClan only shortly after giving birth to two kits. Maturing quickly to take care of their siblings, they gained a sense of protectiveness over those around them. This finds them in the role of Bark from the [MistClan plot ad].

---

Aspenrain was close with both of their parents before their passing, and never truly got a chance to mourn. Having stepped in to raise their siblings, they feel a more parental role towards them, and this sense of responsibility has given them a close bond with their remaining family.

Aspenrain's first and closest friend was Cloudspots, a young tom who bumbled his way through his first time mentoring, but through his good spirits and endearing personality managed to not only train Aspenrain well, but make a life-long friend.

They are also very close with Junipercloud, the queen who nursed their siblings alongside her own kit. Despite her motherly role, Aspenrain does not think of her as a mother so much as a close friend on equal standing.

Aspenrain has not yet experienced romance, having spent most of their time raising their siblings; they'd never had time for such things themself. But as Lilypaw and Birchpaw progress in their apprenticeship and gain their independence, the opportunity for romance is opening for Aspenrain.

While Aspenrain is generally liked for their caring personality, that isn't to say that they get along with everyone. Some cats may not find their perceived softness appealing, and Aspenrain feels no particular fondness for selfish or aggressive cats. They also have a penchant for harboring grudges if they, or someone they care about, is wronged.
Additionally, ever since the kits were stolen, Aspenrain has developed a strong distrust of outsiders, which will put them at odds with Foxglove and his sect.

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