Delicate. 
That's how many in Mistclan view Irisfrost. Her dainty appearance stands out in the clan, despite fitting the stereotypical of a Mistclan cat. She's small, with deceptively long legs hidden under the soft cloud of her coat. The delicate features of her face make her pale gray eyes stand out even more. 



Credit to Jaecary's for the image!

No one batted an eye when Swanflight and Beechstripe became mates. Two warriors from respected families. A charismatic she-cat and an accomplished tom. It was expected. As was Swanflight's swift movement to the nursery. 

What wasn't expected was the difficulty Swanflight had in birth. Two kits, neither drew their first breath. Over the moons the couple tried again, though it would be seasons before they had kits of their own. Two kits, sons. Ashkit and Smokekit.

Soon the two were known as accomplished warriors, Ashstrike and Smokegaze. Swanflight was proud, but despite concerns from the medicine cat, she wanted more kits.

Her final litter consisted of one kit. A daughter, named Iriskit. Swanflight's little flower.

Iriskit spent most her kithood at her mother's side. Swanflight doted on her daughter, bragging about how quiet and sweet the kit was. "She'll make a fine queen one day."

While there were other kits to play with, Iriskit rarely got the chance to pick her playmates. Without fail her mother would encourage her to play with a few select kits, ones from good families. Ones who'd make good mates.

As an apprentice Irispaw expected to get some room from her mother. But her new mentor, Stonesong, knew Swanflight well. While he never neglected his duties as a mentor, he was quick to push Irispaw down the path her mother chose. In particular he encouraged his apprentice to befriend Troutpaw, his son. 

There was little about training Irispaw enjoyed. The idea that it would be for nothing had wormed its way into her. She'd be a perma-queen, all the training would be wasted on her. That's what Swanflight and Stonesong and Beechstripe and Troutpaw and everyone wanted from her. 

No one had to tell her that it was wrong when she showed promise in battle training. She pushed aside the excitement pinning another apprentice brought. At every other training session she made sure to lose or barely win. Just enough to get her name. That's all she needed.

Troutstream got his name several moons before Irispaw. And for once the pressure faded. Stonesong sung his son's praises sure, but now she had a reason not to train with him. And now Swanflight focused more attention on keeping other she-cats away from the new warrior. 

It was a peaceful few moons. Irispaw put in a little more effort. She swore that she just wanted to get her apprenticeship over with and move on. But she enjoyed getting the chance to be normal for a little bit.

Finally freely able to bond with her peers Irispaw quickly became popular. She was calm, kind, always willing to listen. She'd sing the praises of friends even over simple fights or prey. Anything to make them happy, to get them to let her stay by their side.

But then the naming came. Irisfrost.

"A cold name." Swanflight remarked snidely. "Hardly fitting a queen."

No one batted an eye when Irisfrost and Troutstream became mates. Two warriors from respected families. A charismatic she-cat and an accomplished tom. It was expected.

What wasn't expected was the battle between the clans. Troutstream died. As did Ashstrike, her brother. Irisfrost mourned them both publicly, though she mainly felt numb. Not long after the battle Irisfrost realized she was expecting her late mate's kits.

She moved into the nursery, Swanflight and Stonesong visiting constantly. They fretted over the kits, insisted on bringing in prey and dragging her to the medicine cat's den at the drop of a feather. 

"They're all that's left of Troutstream." Swanflight glanced down at her pregnant daughter. "Though you'll need to find a new mate once they've been apprenticed. I'll handle it."

Nearly two moons after the battle her kits were born. Three kits. A daughter and two sons. Swanflight and Stonesong insisted on naming her sons. Troutkit and Ashkit, to honor their father and uncle. Irisfrost names her daughter Blizzardkit. She silently hopes her daughter will grow into the name, to be as loud and dangerous as she wants.

"It's hardly fitting." Swanflight chided. "But there will be other kits to name, you'll have to pick better ones next time."

Irisfrost takes to motherhood as best she can. The kits grow fast, and while she wondered if she'd enjoy being a mother it ends up better than she expected. They don't judge her, they love her. Unconditionally. They don't look at her expecting anything more than her unconditional love and care in return. 

There's a pride in watching how fast the trio grow, from tiny things clinging to her side to rambunctious kits testing their paws and claws. They're desperate to explore the camp and beyond, as all kits are. Irisfrost promises they'll get the chance soon.

Swanflight and Stonesong linger near the nursery, but Irisfrost does her best to push them away. Insisting the kits need rest and to come back later. They chose her life's direction, she won't let the same happen to her children.

It's not the life she chose, but Irisftost finds joy in being a mother.

One day Irisfrost goes to stretch her legs. Get out of camp a bit. The kits were curled up when she left, keeping each other warm. At nearly three moons they could be left alone for a brief moment.

When she comes back they aren't there. She assumes they must've gotten up to explore, but as she searches it becomes clear they aren't. 

Her scream is heard across camp. 

Warriors search. No kits are found. 

The camp erupts in theories and anger. Some try to comfort her, assure her that it will be fine. She can't bring herself to disagree, or to say anything.

"It'll be alright." Swanflight visits her in the following days. "You're still young, there will be more kits. I've got my eye on a few toms for you."

Irisfrost snaps. She lunges at her mother, only to be held back by others in the nursery. All she'd ever done was prepare for this, for being a mother. She gave up her chance at being a warrior to be a queen, all at her mother's instance. And it was never enough. They hadn't even found a body and already Swanflight was picking out who'd sire Irisfrost's next litter.

The quiet queen changes overnight. She pushes her mother away and returns to the warrior den, ready to fight for her place there.

When not attending her duties she searches for her kits. Someone or something took them. While she'd been forced down the path of motherhood they'd been one of the only good things in her life. 

Once a quiet and demure young queen, Irisfrost changed after the kidnapping of her three children. While she finally found the strength to stand up to her mother, the disappearances have consumed her. She distrusts most everyone around her, save for a few friends. 

Pre-Plotting:
     Roots: Irisfrost best fits the Roots in the Mistclan adoptables. She isn't certain that the other clans took her kits, but the though that they might've means she's eager to maintain distance from the other clans.
    Kit-napped: Irisfrost is the mother of the three kits who disappeared from Mistclan camp. She's desperate to find them again.

Family: Irisfrost does not get along well with her family, and is especially mad with her mother's controlling nature and response to the kits disappearing.
Friends: Cats in the nursery and who grew up with Irisfrost likely know her best.
Romance: Romance has never been a priority of Irisfrost. She was set up with her late mate Troutstream by her mother and mentor, and neither loved the other. With her kits gone she's especially uninterested.