A short and stout orange tabby tom.

Pumpkinpelt suits his name. A life of a well-loved housecat has left its mark on the older tom. He's noticeably softer than other cats, rounder and less muscular. It suits him fine though, and he pays little mind to his appearance or any who might be concerned with it.

His bright orange coat has started to dull with age, with white furs starting to pop up around his muzzle. He's noticeably free of scars though, and while he's slowed down due to his age, his time living sheltered in a house with access to vets means the tom looks and acts a bit younger than born clan cats around his age.

Life started long before Pumpkinpelt ever stumbled across the clans, long before he got the second part to his name. It began years ago with a stray mother and a kind human who took her and her kits in.

Pumpkin was too young to have any memories of his life before his human. When his eyes opened it was in a cardboard box lined with an old blanket covered in countless stains. But it was safe and warm and he never had to worry about food.

His Mama told him about the old times. Before the humans. She'd struggled for food, been hunting for scraps in the back alleys. Back then she was called Autumn, though the human always called her Mama or Mama Cat. So Pumpkin called her Mama too.

Pumpkin and Mama weren't alone, there was Carrot and Squash as well. Siblings of his. As they got older the three tussled and tumbled and stumbled their way around a tiny little space he'd later know as a bathroom. The floor was cold and slick and fun to slide around on.

The human visited often, bringing food and water and toys. He named them, helped clean them, basically acted like another mother to them. Mama was cautious of him, but slowly started to relax in his presence. It was he who named Pumpkin and his siblings. 

Pumpkin loved the human. 

There was something special about him. He was large and clumsy and strangely furless, but his pets were lovely and his lap was warm. Sometimes Pumpkin would even climb on his shoulder and simply sit there, content in his perching spot.

Evidently the human loved him too, since he kept Pumpkin close, wrapped a collar around his neck, and when his family were taken by other humans, only Pumpkin stayed behind.

Now alone for the first time he spent his days playing and lounging and eating. It was a little lonely at times, but his owner kept him company. 

And then one day there was a kitten. A little ragged thing, alone and confused. His owner fed and bathed the kit, and slowly introduced her to Pumpkin. When her tiny blue eyes blinked up at him, Pumpkin felt protective of the poor dear.

He kept her warm, kept her happy and clean while his owner kept her fed. And he watched with a happy heart as she grew into a spunky kitten. And he watched with a quiet understanding as she left one day in the arms of another human.

Pumpkin understood now, how it went. Some humans helped cats, but they couldn't keep all of them. So they gave them to other humans. Some like him stayed, but most didn't.

His owner was one of the humans who helped cats. And dogs, sometimes. But mostly cats. Mostly they were kittens, little bundles in groups of one or two and no mother. Pumpkin helped them grow and get ready for their new lives.

Some were older, injured and scared. Pumpkin calmed their nerves, helped them see his owner wasn't so bad. Some got over their fear, some didn't. Either way they all left. All but Pumpkin.

It was an odd routine, but one that Pumpkin knew well. Years passed as he moved with the rhythm of cats passing in and out of his life. He learned their stories, acted as a father or friend as needed. And then he moved on.

The only constant was his owner. His one true companion. No matter what he knew he could rely on his owner to keep him safe and warm.

But life changed one day. There was no warning. Nothing out of the ordinary. His owner left the house frequently, and always returned. Until he didn't.

There was only one other cat in the house at the time. A skittish tom who insisted he needed to leave. Older cats were like that, set in their ways, it was difficult to adjust. The cat refused to use his new name, clinging to his old one. Ambergaze. Strange name for a strange cat.

Neither of them realized anything was off at first. The first signs of trouble came when his owner missed mealtime. Odd. But Pumpkin waited, reassuring his companion that they'd both be fine. 

And then another two mealtimes came and went and Pumpkin knew something was wrong. The two toms worked together to knock down and claw open a bag of dry food, but as they scarfed down the dry chunks both knew it wouldn't last forever.

Water was an issue as well. The bathroom had a small supply in the toilet, but it wasn't enough.

Ambergaze insisted they needed to escape. And as much as it pained Pumpkin, he couldn't deny the need for food and water. But their escape attempts failed time and time again.

It started to get dire. The water was gone and the food was low.

And then the door opened. But his owner wasn't the one standing there. It was another human. Pumpkin ran up, purring and pleased. He tried to rub against the human's legs, but they kicked him away. 

It hurt. Pumpkin struggled to rise to his paws again as the human started to shout. As the strange human drew closer, voice raised in anger, it was Ambergaze who saved him. The tom lunged at the human's legs, clawing and biting. The human cursed and kicked, but it gave Pumpkin enough time to run out the now opened door.

He'd never really ventured outside before. Not without his owner. Pumpkin hid in a nearby bush, and Ambergaze joined him a few seconds later.

They hid as the human eventually left, closing the door once more.

Pumpkin was heartbroken. Where was his owner? He wanted to wait, to see if one day his owner would return. But Ambergaze quickly pointed out that Pumpkin would starve on his own.

It was Ambergaze who offered a solution to starving. Leaving. He spoke of a home full of cats, somewhere safe. Pumpkin hated it, but he knew there was no other choice. He couldn't risk trying to befriend another human, that kick had been painful enough. He'd not survive many more, especially without access to food and water.

So Pumpkin followed. He left his world behind.

Amergaze was thrilled to be on the move. He spent their traveling time talking about his home and family and friends. Prairieclan, he called it.

It was certainly something.

When they arrived it became clear that this would certainly be an adjustment for old Pumpkin. He'd already started sprouting white hairs before the journey, and the walk over showed just how much of a physical difference there was between a cat like Ambergaze and a cat like Pumpkin.

He got a new name, Pumpkinpelt. Odd. But at least they let him keep the Pumpkin part. His old age earned him a spot in what they called the elder's den. But Pumpkinpelt wasn't expected to just sit back and wait for death. Nor did he want to.

He'd always been good with kits, and was quick to offer help to any mothers or fathers in need. Before long he spent almost half his nights sleeping in the nursery. 

Of course he helped out in other small ways too. The camp needed cleaning and he had the patience, eye for detail, and free time to tend to it. Little duties like that, those were the ones he picked up. Chores, or apprentice duties as the clan cats called it. Either way it beat starving to death.

And there were lots of little ones here to help. The only real difference being that these ones he'd get to see grow up.

Pre-Plotting: Pumpkinpelt is a new member of Prairieclan, having only lived there a few moons. Most of his life was spent as a kittypet and foster parent to countless cats. He does his best to help out around his new home, and best falls into the Peony mindset. It's nice to help people, and if his new clan can help, why not? He's also a new comer to the gossipy elder group. 

Family: Pumpkinpelt barely remembers his birth family, having only spent a few months with them. The closest thing he had to family was his owner, whose fate is unknown. He misses them.
Friends: Pumpkinpelt made countless friends in those whose lives briefly crossed with his. Many foster cats (and some dogs) lived in his house and got to know the old tom.
Romance: While he helped out many kits, he never sired any of his own or found anyone he'd want to settle down with. No one ever stuck around, so he never got attached.