A lanky brown tabby tom with one eye.

In his youth, Cricket was a promising young tom. Born with a tabby coat reminiscent of his mother, and almost none of the white of his other parent, it was unclear at first if Cricket had inherited much from Orchidgaze. Until his eyes developed, one stayed a beautiful sky blue and the other turned a yellow-brown.

After losing his blue eye and leaving Ridgeclan, Cricket has quite the different appearance. His long fur is often tousled and unkempt, sticking out in several directions. A tiny splotch of white adorns his chin, framed with long whiskers. His darker tabby markings and long legs make him look even more like his namesake.

It's early newleaf when Birdwhisker gives birth. A good time for a litter to arrive, though only kit is born. A tiny tabby tom, with only a tiny splash of white on his chin so small it could be mistaken for dried milk. It seems little Cricketkit did not inherit much appearance wise from Orchidgaze.

That doesn't bother Orchidgaze, their attention is firmly fixed on their kit, their legacy. And when eventually Cricketkit's eyes develop their color, one a dull yellow-brown and the other vibrant blue, it's clear to Orchidgaze that this is a sign. Just like how their eyes were. One blue eye for Starclan, and another more earthy for the body.

He spends little time playing and being a normal kit, instead focused on getting stronger. Being better. In his mind he's not just a kit, he's a kit touched by Starclan. Like his parent.

He has to be the best kit, the strongest and fastest and smartest all at once. And whenever someone else beats him in a race or mock fight, it hurts. So much. Rather than accept it, he calls other kits liars or insist they try again until he wins. He has to win. 

Birdwhisker tries to shield him, let him be a normal kit, but Orchidgaze knows her well, knows what to do and say to make sure their control over Cricketkit is never truly threatened.

When its time for his apprenticeship, Cricketpaw feels the weight of Orchidgaze's pressure even further. This was the time of their life when that connection to Starclan grew. Moon touched, he called it. Linked to their ancestors.

Cricketpaw never feels that tug, that connection, no matter how hard he tries. At night his dreams and deep and calm, no visions visit. At best his dreams are normal, imagining himself catching a plump bird. At worst there are none, nothing but darkness and rest.

He hates it. 

Being an apprentice isn't easy, and Cricketpaw makes it even harder for himself. Any patrol he's offered he takes, and volunteers for more on top of that. He refuses to rest until his legs are shaking and his paws feel numb.

He also tries, though quite awkwardly, to befriend other cats his age. It's important, he has to find a mate to and continue his parent's legacy. It's what Orchidgaze wants, so it's what Cricketpaw wants. Though he has little luck in making any meaningful relationships.

There must be a problem with the others, he decides. They aren't ready, aren't mature enough to be friends with him. He's special. Moon touched. Starclan's just... taking their time. 

As tensions rise in the clans, Cricketpaw is thrilled. This is his chance. Finally he can prove himself to Orchidgaze. With even more enthusiasm he throws himself into battle training. He has to be ready, has to help when the time is right. 

On his tenth moon the battle happens. As the clan prepares, Cricketpaw is practically vibrating with excitement. Maybe he'll be named early, if he does well enough.

The actual battle, however, does not go to plan. 

A near fatal mixture of youthful naïveté, the fear of failing, and the belief his clan couldn't possibly lose drives Cricketpaw to attack a Mistclan warrior almost twice his size and probably four times his age.

The fight, if it could be called that, is brutal and quick. One second Cricketpaw has his fangs and claws latched onto the cat, and the next he is on the ground, covered in his own blood.

Someone drags him back to the medicine cat den. His wounds are treated, his eye covered in cobwebs and poultice. He clings to the belief that the treatments are why he can't see out of one eye. Once it's gone he'll be fine. Perfectly fine.

It's not fine.

The eye is gone. Ruined. Nothing but the socket is left. 

It's hard to tell what's worse, the pain of his injury and the loss of sight or Orchidgaze's reaction. His parent is stripped of their role as Oracle. And when they see him, see his missing blue eye, it's one of the last signs they interpret.

"I knew you never had what it took." 

The words haunt him. Orchidgaze looks upon him as a failure. Cricketpaw's injury becomes a sign that clearly Orchidgaze is the last oracle. And that Crickeptpaw is a failure. It's one the clan hears, even if not an official interpretation anymore

Cricketpaw is broken. Not by the injury, in the following moon he comes to learn how to adjust quite fast. No, it's Orchidgaze that breaks him. After everything he'd done for them, after molding his life to fit another, and he was still thrown away. Cast aside in his moment of need.

Abandoned by Orchidgaze, and Starclan if his parent is to be believed, Cricketpaw plans an escape. If they have abandoned him, he will abandon them. All of them.

He throws himself back into training, into recovering. The lost eye takes adjustment, but he learns. His whiskers and ears and paws help him navigate the world.

Two moons after the battle he catches prey again. A bird. Its death isn't a sign from Starclan, but it's a sign to him. He's ready.

He leaves the bird there for a patrol or predator to find and walks to the border, his heart beating faster and faster. At the edge of all his known, the edge of his world, he decides to cross.

It doesn't take much to fake a death. A few tufts of dur and drops of blood. All drawn by his paws and claws, but the clan won't know that.

He rolls around, slashing at trees and getting the place nice and messy. It's almost like playing as a kit again, acting out this supposed death. A shame it took him so long to realize how fun it could be to let lose.

Life isn't easy as a loner. But time is on his side. Newleaf brings prey, plump and less used to cats. It's nice, having free time. He can hunt in the morning and spend all afternoon lounging, sunbathing or batting around moss balls.

No one is around to tell him what to do or who to be. Cricket keeps part of his name, it was a gift from Birdwhisker, not Orchidgaze. And it suited him well enough.

Cricket spends the first few moons of new life in relative bliss. He keeps away from others, and it's not too hard to feed a single cat when prey is high and the sky is warm and bright. 

He wanders wherever his paws bring him, quickly learning the signs of other cats and predators so he can avoid having to compete too much for food.

The freedom feels at times overwhelming, and at other times amazing. There are days he wakes up in a panic, worried he'd overslept and missed a patrol. And when something goes wrong, he has to deal with it himself. There's no one to rely on or treat his injuries.

Yet when the sun is shining and he's fully fed with nowhere to be, it's worth it.

But good times never last. Eventually the weather turns cold, and snow blankets the land. There's no one to rely on but himself.

Cricket flirts with the idea of joining up with other cats, but can never bring himself to do it. Instead he toughs it out, using his wits and force of will to stay alive. It doesn't always work well, but it's barely enough to keep going. And that's all he needs.
 

When Cricket was younger, the tom was a hard worker determined to be the best warrior in Ridgeclan, rarely taking time to relax. Now that he's left the clan, he's tried hard to move his life in the opposite direction. Cricket makes time to lay about and play, to exist without goals. But the past sill has its claws in him, butting its head up from time to time. Some days he can keep it at bay, staying relaxed and calm. Other days he struggles with feeling helpless and alone and overwhelmed by the world around him.