With a prominent scar across his throat, pale green eyes, soft fur that gives him an almost delicate appearance, and a rough voice the struggles to carry beyond a whisper, Owlheart is a visual contradiction. In some ways, he is very much the epitome of the harshness that warrior life can bring: the scar on his neck being the most obvious, though other scars more hidden by his fur mark his left side. And in other ways, he carries a remarkable gentleness that counters some of his rougher features. His tenderness, soft fur, and surprisingly good spirits suggest a tom who is able to find healing and optimism even when all the facts would assume such an attitude were impossible to keep up.

He no longer holds the strength of muscle one might as a warrior, and instead is on the lither side. It is very likely that he will never hunt again, much less patrol the borders and protect his clan, but he makes himself useful where he can, including watching over the nursery, tending to the elders, and helping the medicine cat when he's able.

When he closes his eyes, he can still feel the sharp, sudden pain of the great claws of a lynx slashing into his side and then, as he's slowed, his neck. It makes his scars throb, as if they're still open and bleeding - he can almost smell it. If he opens his eyes, maybe he's still be lying in the dirt, with that terrible creature standing over him. Maybe he never recovered at all.

He opens his eyes. There is no lynx, that is long in the past. He is surrounded by his clan mates, asleep in the warrior's den - a place his is permitted to sleep in out of pity, maybe, but a place of comfort nonetheless. He is not bleeding. If he attempted to speak, he would be able, even if his voice would not carry very far.

There is no lynx. He closes his eyes and sees the creature's amber gaze on him once more.

-

Kestrelkit is fast, but not so fast that Owlkit doesn't make great headway chasing after him, darting around the clan's camp with no mind paid to the warriors returning from patrols and the fond, if annoyed, gasp of elders attempting to enjoy some time in the sun before it sets. The brothers' laughter fills the air, even more so when Owlkit doesn't react in time to Kestrelkit stopped abruptly, sending the two crashing into each other and tumbling across the camp.


Sitting up, Owlkit's eyes land on Foxpaw, who does a fantastic job avoiding acknowledging eye contact until Kestrelkit corners him on the other side. "Did you train today?" Owlkit asks, eyes wide with envy. "What did you learn?"

"Um-"

"Did you learn to fight? Can you show us?" Kestrelkit chimes in.

Owlkit nods eagerly, "Yeah, show us!"

Foxpaw looks between the two of them much more like a cornered rabbit than a fox - it's only when Weaselpaw steps in and starts showering them with tales of their exploits as apprentices that the other tom is freed from the kits' nagging.

Owlkit and Kestrelkit listen with wrapt attention, and when Weaselpaw slinks off to rejoin the other apprentices, Owlkit says, "I can't wait to be an apprentice. Or even a warrior."

"Just two moons away!" Kestrelkit says.

-

For a kit, two moons is an eternity. Of course the pair thought to sneak out of camp and start their training early, and of course their mother brought them back in line with promises that each of them would get their chance to explore the woods when the time came.

In the mean time, Owlkit listened to Laurelfern's experiences as a warrior with eager admiration. What he wanted more than anything was to be just like her.

-

He's twenty-seven moons old and not so much like Laurelfern. They share a tendency to hold onto the good where they can, and a desire to do good for other cats, but Laurelfern has the nature of leadership and presents herself with the sort of self assurance and commitment to her beliefs in a way that Owlheart would struggle to do. Softer spoken (not just in voice), Owlheart knows he will never be the warrior he imagined being when he was little.

And... he thinks he's okay with that. He's made a place for himself at camp. His paws aren't idle, even if he's not doing the sort of tasks suited for a warrior. When he looks across the camp, he sees the hurt and damage that Wolfstar left. Every little thing he does now, he hopes can patch some of those wounds. Every time he forgives a clan mate for their role in the battle for the moon cave, every time he lends a paw tending to the elders or keeps an eye on the kits for the queens, he likes to think a little bit of RidgeClan is healing. Resentment can't stay forever - like all things, his clan will grow and change. He believes that.

Still, it's easy to linger on the past.

-

Goldenstorm is tall, athletic, and a little bit of a spitfire. She's young, for a mentor, and because of that she's almost more like an older sister than an authority figure. She teaches Owlheart how to hunt - the crouches, of course, and how to snatch a bird out of the sky, but more than that, she teaches him where to hunt. The best places to catch a mouse, a squirrel, whatever he might want to seek out, she knew the best spots and the best times of day for a successful catch.

And she teaches him how to fight, but more specifically, how to defend himself. "You're a little thin," she says, more playfully than as a criticism, "and so easy to knock down. You gotta learn how to center your weight so bigger cats can't rush you."

When he spreads his weight, she can still knock him aside with ease, but they make good progress in a few months' time. His parents are proud of him. He still wrestles with his brother. Goldenstorm helps him sneak out of camp to find a tall place to look at the stars and talk about what he wants out of the future.

Maybe that was his mistake. He was always looking forward.

At eleven moons, she told him he'd be a warrior soon. There would be an assessment, of course. In two parts, she said. The first to test his hunting, and the second his fighting.

He passed the hunting assessment with flying colors.

He never got the chance to pass his fighting assessment.

-

Owlpaw is in a bright mood when his mentor invites him along for a routine border patrol. They're chatting back and forth about the last Gathering - Owlpaw's first! - when the older warrior in the party snaps at them for silence, ears alert, eyes forward.

For a long, drawn out moment there is stillness. Owlpaw manages to finally voice "What?" before the scent hits him - lynx. And nearly right as the scent reaches his nose, the lynx's claws reach his side.

There's so much blood. But that's an old story.

When he opens his eyes again, the blood is gone. He remembers only a little of the attack - the moments before, of course, the pain, and then flashes of images when everything was numb. His mentor, stricken. His family's grief. The focused gaze of Sootwhisker, the medicine cat at the time. The sky above him: pale.

Sometimes, he thinks he died there.

-

The sound that comes out of his throat is incomprehensible. A gurgle, really, more than a voice.

The medicine cat is pressing something to his neck. It might be cobweb - he can't feel anything well enough to say for certain, and something tells him he shouldn't try to crane his head around for a look. "Hush," Sootwhisker says. "You're in no state to speak."

Owlpaw doesn't try to again. Instead he lays there while the medicine cat works, eyes darting around the den. He can smell stale blood and musky herbs, and the scent of his family, though they don't seem to be there now. Because the medicine cat is working, he assumes. He thinks he can hear his brother outside, though he can't make out what he's saying.

When his family returns, he learns he almost died. He learns it's been days since he opened his eyes or ate anything, and that he might die still if only because he can't swallow well. The wounds on his side are infected. He might never speak again. He might never stand again.

It's a nightmare.

Kestrelpaw postpones his warrior naming. Owlpaw wants to tell him he doesn't have to do that. But with no voice, he can only smile weakly to remind everyone that he loves them and he's grateful they are there.

When he dies, he won't be alone.

-

In the end, he doesn't die. His wounds, with treatment, begin to heal. He can feel the relief of those around him, but it takes time for him to feel relieved, too.

Even when he receives his warrior name, it feels false. He's not a warrior. He's an open wound. To be called anything else feels like an insult when he thinks of the cat he should have been.

In time, though, he accepts his name. He appreciates that he was named for the strength he has in facing death and overcoming it, rather than being named for the injury itself. And though it's hard for him to be patient with himself, in time he learns to speak again, too. Slowly.

The first word he said when he found his voice again was his brother's name, followed by the names of all his family. "I'll get strong again," he promises them.

"You're already strong," his mother tells him, and he finally lets himself grieve what happened to him.

-

It's easy for Owlheart to avoid participation in Wolfstar's battles. He's not capable of fighting; he's much more useful at camp, helping sort herbs in case of injuries upon the return of his clan mates. And when they do return, battered and injured, he feels useful when he's able to help the medicine cat keep tabs on everyone.

Some of the returning cats become his dearest friends and mentor-figures. Silverheart, in particular, with his dry humor and the kindness he extends to Owlheart. Silverheart inspires him to find his footing in his clan again. Maybe he's not a warrior, not really, but he's still a member of his clan, and much like he would help distribute herbs from the medicine cat, he would happily find other ways to help them.

Against all odds, the clan starts to recover from the battles, from Wolfstar's death.

So he's not sure what to make of it when months later, his mother tells him she's splitting from the clan.

-

"At the next Gathering," she says. The vision is a society where no cat like Wolfstar could come to power again. Something different than, even better than, the clans.

He understands feeling disillusioned with RidgeClan, after everything. But still, he asks, "You're leaving me?"

"I'm asking you to come with me." 

He doesn't want to split his family. That's the last thing he wants to do. He loves them. They've always been there for him, and he hopes he's managed to be supportive for them, too.

But... the weather is foul. Cold. What herbs are there in the mountains? What will keep his aches away, infection out of his lungs? What prey will feed their bellies? What if no other cats go with them, and they are alone? He doesn't want to cling to survival - not anymore. He wants to live.

And RidgeClan has always given him the space to do so. Within the safety of a clan, he can curse his poor fortune a little less. He can even feel optimism that he will keep healing well, and that one day the pressure in his throat when he speaks for too long will subside.

He doesn't have that confidence in a new group. Not even one founded by his mother.

He feels like a coward when he tells her he can't go. "Not yet, anyway."

And as she promised, after the next Gathering she was gone.

-

Owlheart didn't die after the lynx attack and his life wasn't over when his family left RidgeClan, either. He will keep stepping forward, even when it's hard to do so.

At present, he's focused on continuing to be the supportive cat he's always been in RidgeClan, and reminds anyone who doubts him that he could have left when his mother offered, but he didn't, because he believes RidgeClan can still be the great clan it wishes to be.

But he's lying when he says the mountains aren't often on his mind, now.

Pre-Plotting: Owlheart is one of Laurelfern's sons. Due to his general ability level, he has chosen to remain in RidgeClan, because he fears he can't contribute to a new group such as the Kingdom and worries that they would not be able to provide for him in the same way the structure of a clan can either. Being separated from his family hurts him, but for now, he thinks it is for the best. Maybe being a link between RidgeClan and the Kingdom will end up being a good thing.

He most closely aligns with the saturn minded cats of RidgeClan. The routine of clan life has always been helpful to him, personally, and he thinks the clan as a whole should refocus their priorities on their clan mates, rebuilding connections with the other clans, and finding less toxic ways of being devoted to StarClan (even if he personally struggles to have faith in the stars.)

In the future, he may join the Kingdom. If he does, he will most closely align with the dragonfly role.

Family: Family is deeply important to Owlheart. His family were there for him through his entire healing process. He is especially fond of his brother and believes that nothing could break the bond they have as siblings, even if he will never live the life Kestrelthorn does.
Friends: Because he cannot truly be a warrior alongside his clan mates, at times Owlheart feels he can't have the deeper bond warriors have together. Some of his friendships are superficial, while others are bonds of shared experiences either because these cats also faced long recovery times after injury or because Owlheart grew to trust them.
Romance: While he'd love to fall in love, he struggles to imagine it when he's essentially retired already. And until recently he's been so focused on recovery that he hasn't had time to consider things like crushes.
Rivals: Owlheart is a little bit too nice to really consider cats his rivals (and rivals to what, anyway? It's not like he's hunting or vying for higher positions with the clan), but some cats may consider him just another mouth to feed or otherwise think he's kind of bully-able because he's a little bit passive.