A tall, silvery tom with angular features.

Thistleroot has an elegant appearance. The tom is tall, most of his height coming from his legs, though is lithe body is also quite long. As is his tail, which is feathery and soft. While the fur on his back is short and silvery, his stomach fur is white, with a feathery texture and a more medium length. A pale fawn color springs up in tiny splotches near his paws and face.

His face has sharp angular features framed by large ears. It gives him a triangular appearance that might be intimidating at first glance, especially in conjunction with his height. 

The last element of his striking appearance is his eyes, two pale blue orbs with no visible pupil. Any cat who gets close enough to see them can tell the tom is blind.

The union of Swiftstep and Roseberry was born of duty rather than love. Swiftstep had proved himself to be a skilled warrior and hunter, and as he grew older and older the urge to have children to continue his legacy grew. Roseberry was younger, but she wanted kits.

Children were always the goal, and while the two were mates, it was an shaky partnership until Roseberry became pregnant. Once it was confirmed the two would be parents, Swiftstep became devoted to caring for his expecting mate. The pregnancy was simple, things were easy on the expecting parents.

Thistlekit and Thornkit were born looking like two halves of a whole. The toms were practically impossible to tell apart, two gray bundles at their mother's side. Swiftstep was pleased both boys seemed healthy.

It took a few days after their birth for anyone to realize Thistlekit was different from his brother and the other kits. When his eyes opened, there was something odd about their color. Roseberry was swift to take her son to the medicine cat, where it was confirmed the kit was blind.

It was a shock for the new parents. Roseberry was beside herself with fear fro her son, while Swiftstep focused his attention onto Thornkit, insisting he also be seen. "Just in case," he said. Thornkit showed no signs of blindness.

Thistlekit was too young at the time to remember the ordeal, or how his parents acted before then. All he really knew was the tunnels of the nursery and the warmth of his family.

Once he and Thornkit could walk and talk, the two were quick to play together. "Be gentle." Roseberry would always remind Thornkit, much to both her sons annoyance. They had to adjust their games a little to make it fair, sure, but his lack of eyesight didn't make Thistlekit any more fragile.

The rules of their playtime were quickly hashed out. No battling at each other without announcing ones presence first. Games focused on finding each other in the tunnels through scent or sound, or hiding and finding trinkets and flowers. As long as Thornkit spoke up every now and then Thistlekit could keep track of his brother without much trouble.

In time Roseberry relaxed her efforts to contain their play. She kept him from playing with other kits and tried to contain him within the walls of the nursery. But that was fine with him.

The tunnels that ran from the nursery to the rest of the dens were enough. He could navigate by himself, always certain where the next step would lead. The camo above was more chaotic, with cats running about while not always checking under their paws for stray kits.

At the very least he always had his brother, to guide him above in the camp and play with him when others weren't allowed to. If it bothered Thornkit that he was contained to playing with just Thistlekit, he never made it known. They were inseparable.

That changed a little, as they grew older. Apprenticeship became the topic of conversation. 

"Can he be apprenticed?" Roseberry asked while Swiftstep sighed. 

"Who knows? It's not up to us."

Swiftstep came around the nursery more and more, always for Thornkit. One day when Thistlekit was pretending to sleep to avoid Roseberry's endless attempts to groom him, he overheard his father and brother talking.

"You'll have to work twice as hard for him. He can't hunt. The clan will feed him, but someone has to catch that food. Someone will have to keep an eye on him. That's you."

Thistlekit stayed quiet, though anger and frustration and other emotions he couldn't quite name burned his heart. When Thornkit returned, he slept on the other side of the nest for the first time.

Things shifted after that night. The two started to drift apart, their playtime growing scarcer and shorter until it stopped.

As he neared his sixth moon, Thistlekit met Cloverpatch for the first time. She was a tunneler, visiting the nursery to maintain its tunnel walls.

"How can a cat fix a wall?" He asked, absentmindedly pawing at some grasses sticking out from his nest.

She chuckled and said "Let me show you." Under her guidance Thistekit reached his paws up against the walls and ceiling of the tunnel. "Feel the roots? We need to remove them. Try it."

Thistlekit trimmed the roots with his teeth, and as he ran his paws over the spot where they once more, there was nothing but smooth dirt and the feeling of satisfaction. "I did it!"

From then on Thistlekit started helping Cloverpatch with her work around the tunnel dens of Prairieclan. As they worked she told him about the vast network of tunnels under the territory, all maintained by tunnelers like her.

"You know, no one can see in the tunnels. There's no light down there." Cloverpatch says it so casually, as if it isn't something that could change the course of Thistekit's life. A whole group of cats who spend their days unable to see.

Maybe she didn't want him to feel pressured, like it was his only option. But of all the options he'd heard, it sounded best. The tunnels offered freedom, they spanned all throughout the clan's land. Just like how he used the den tunnels to move around camp without help, he could use the larger system to move around the territory.

Later that night when he's back with his family Thistlekit speaks up. "I'm going to be a tunneler."

"It's dangerous down there dear." The panic in Roseberry's voice does nothing to shake his determination. "Cats can die down there, it isn't safe. Stay up here, you could always be an early elder or help with the herbalist or..."

Thistlekit cuts her off. "I'm not asking. I want to be a tunneler."

Thornkit stays silent, though Thistlekit can feel his brother's fur bristle.

Cloverpatch becomes Thistlepaw's mentor. Her can hear her pleased purr as she touches her nose to his. 

Thistlepaw's apprenticeship is a little different than others. Far less time is spent training him on warrior basics, and he's almost immediately introduced to the tunnels. 

The tunnel system is vast, it seems endless to the new apprentice. But the earthen scent, the feeling of dirt against his pelt and paws, it's familiar. It feels like home, reminds him of the nursery and the games he and Thornpaw played in the camp tunnels.

There are other cats in the tunnels, and Thistlepaw quickly learns their scents and names. Some act odd around him, something he's used to by now. But not all do, and many are eager to share their knowledge with the young apprentice.

There is a freedom in the tunnels. For once he is not made to feel lacking in comparison to others. He isn't seen as fragile or someone to be protected anymore than anyone else his age. Here he is an equal, a peer. 

No one needs to watch or guide him once he learns the basic layout, something that comes naturally. Moons of being confined to the camp tunnels sets him up for success in this regard. He's used to understanding the word as a series of connected lines, the tunnels simply expand that.

The tunnelers have a way of moving, of communicating, that works exceedingly well. Their idle chatter, the way they mention when they'll start and stop moving, it's what everyone needs. It's what he needs. If even a few of the clan learned these simple ways of communicating their movement and surroundings, Thistelpaw knows he'd be far safer and secure aboveground.

When he mentions it, Cloverpatch helps. The two develop a rhythm, a way of communicating even outside the tunnels. She rests her tail on his shoulders when they walk, tapping to let him know if she'll turn or stop or speed up. It isn't perfect, but its everything to Thistlepaw.

With her help he begins to learn the most well trodden trails aboveground, how to navigate between them and the tunnels. She leads him to the river and flower fields, keeping an eye out while he gets to know the new scents and sounds and sensations. Thistelpaw even finds a favorite flower, daisies. Their scent isn't overwhelming, it's soft and comforting. 

While he'll never be a hunter or fighter, Thistlepaw finds other ways to live, to be helpful and productive. Not out of fear of being a burden, but because he wants to. He genuinely likes the tunnels, enjoys his time exploring and maintaining them.

He's almost 20 moons old when he's named. Not out of any failure on his part, as far as Cloverpatch says its mainly to reassure his parents and the rest of the clan that he's fully self sufficient in the tunnels. While the other tunnelers know he's ready moons before his naming, those who don't frequent the tunnels aren't as certain. 

Perhaps the delay is why he's able to earn the suffix root. He's proud as he accepts the name, hears the clan chant it. Thistleroot knows he earned it, and has long since come to terms with the fact that some will always look at him as helpless. He knows he isn't, that's enough.

Especially as a fully fledged tunneler, there's a distance between Thistleroot and some of the clan, including his kin. He stops visiting the camp to sleep most nights, preferring the tunnels. It's better for him, no warriors kicking him in their sleep, no trying to navigate around dozens of cats who'll either scold him for bumping into him or coo at him like a kit.

If he's in camp its to either attend to the dens' maintenance or to grab food. Cloverpatch starts bring him prey in the tunnels from time to time, making his visits less and less frequent.

Roseberry tries to lure him back from time to time, encourage him to leave the tunnels more and spend time with Thornstrike. But the gap between him and his family only grows. Thistleroot knows when he's with them that they still see him as a helpless kit. He doesn't want to be around those who look down on him for something he never could control.

The war between Mistclan and Ridgeclan is a surprise to Thistleroot, who cares little for what the other clans get up to. The battle is not one he can partake in, and from what he hears Thornstrike does well.

It's all other clan business to him, and he returns to his work without much thought to how the battle will change the valley.

Similarly other notable events wash off his back like water from a duck. Rogues and loners in the territory? As long as they aren't in his way, who cares. Kits missing in another clan? He'll keep his nose down but it's not his problem. A spat at a border leaves Mushroomstar down a life? Good thing he's got more. As long as the tunnels are safe, he's satisfied.

But the tunnels aren't always safe. Sure rain and erosion are risks, but the biggest is Prairieclan itself. He knows when Littlestar is replaced by Cinderstar that things might change. Will she really let the rare tragedy stop tunnelers? At that rate why not ban border patrols and keep the clan confined to camp, since so many die in battle or to predators? Ridiclous.

Thistleroot has his ears turned to the whispers of his peers, unwilling to give up his home and way of life.

Thistleroot is a cat who knows himself inside and out. He knows who he is, what he wants, and who he can trust. Friends and fellow tunnelers know a confident, practical tom capable of keeping calm even in the most trying of times.

But other cats see quite a different tom. To those he doesn't trust Thistleroot is as easy to sway as a boulder. Cats trying to befriend him find he's on guard, keeping his true thoughts and feelings close to his chest.

He distrusts authority and orders if they aren't from direct friends. As such he's not a fan of current leadership in the clan, and whispers of the tunnels being dangerous has him on edge. The tunnels are his home, the place he is on equal grounds to other cats. He won't leave them without a fight.. 

Pre-Plotting: Thistleroot best falls into the Heather beliefs in his clan. He cares little for outside troubles, and is mainly concerned with protecting the tunnels. He'll try to take an active role in defending the tradition if push comes to shove, as it's his whole way of life.

Family: Thistleroot is distant from his biological family, not wanting to be near anyone who would look down on him for his blindness. He views his mentor, Clvoerpatch, as more family than those who share his blood.
Friends: Thistleroot gets along best with tunnelers and those who don't look down on him for his disability. 
Romance: Romance isn't something Thistleroot is actively seeking, but he wouldn't be opposed to it either. He'd be most likely to fall for another tunneler, but it's not the only option.
Rivals: Anyone against tunneling is an enemy of Thistleroot, no matter who they are.