Heatherpaw

> ❝ I’ll find my own path, with or without you. ❞
>
> ~ Heatherpaw

**Heatherpaw** is a slim, short-furred tom with large, wide ears. He has a long nose bridge, and an angular face and jaw. His fur is colored shades of gray and white. He has almost abnormally long whiskers, and a long striped tail. His eyes are almost clear, cloudy and unreadable.

## Personality

Heatherpaw is an unpredictable, quiet tom. He has a hard time expressing his feelings, especially strong ones. He likes to give gifts as a replacement for this. He collects things he finds interesting, then gives them to those he thinks are fit enough for them. Examples include rocks, herbs, flowers, etc. Heatherpaw is extremely curious and often goes out of his way to find out the unknown. He loves to learn new things and is very patient with them. He tries again, even if he fails. He doesn’t see it as a failure, instead a chance to do it right this time. He learns patterns quickly, and will notice the moment things go out of that line. He finds himself naturally leading situations and making them his own, and takes control easily when things go out of hand. He has a collection of rocks and plants he keeps in his nest that are some of his most prized possessions. He loves to rub his paws against them and feel the texture. He enjoys sitting out in nature and taking in the smell, especially of blooming flowers in Newleaf. They help calm him down when he sometimes loses himself or feels overwhelmed by the heightened sensations around him. He often sits in the sun of his nest and lays there for a while if he doesn’t have any other activities to do. Feeling the sun beams against his fur fills him with warmth and comfort.

## Backstory

Heatherkit was born blind, so he never had the desire to see the world. He could feel the vibrations of the ground, the smell of fresh, blooming flowers growing around him. Honestly, he prefers it. Hearing faint, unintelligible whispers, tasting the strong bitterness of herbs on his tongue. He would rather live in darkness than see. Being able to imagine the world instead of seeing it filled his mind with creativity, with the drive to know even more. He can’t picture his thoughts in his mind, but he can feel them resonate in his soul.

He was born as an identical twin with his sister Kestrelkit, though she died quickly after her birth. His mother, Snowbloom, grieved for moons, near neglecting her other child. His father, Aspenheart, came in to fill that gaping hole in his heart, acting as both a maternal and paternal figure for him. As a kitten, he didn’t understand why his mother wouldn’t look him in the eye, why she would turn and groom the other kits in the nursery and ignore him. What he didn’t know was that he would forever remind her of her lost daughter, knowing that if he wasn’t alive, then Kestrelkit could have lived. Aspenheart tried desperately to plead with his mate, knowing that she was clouded by grief. His calls only served to isolate her further, leaving them both further neglected. Heatherkit, again and again, asked his father why she wouldn’t come back. All he would say is that she needed more time. More time grew into moons, and the clan had officially assigned her as missing or dead.

Her body was found floating along the river by a patrol, presumably drowned. She truly could not bear to live without her daughter in this world. He would never, in his moons of living, ever get the freezing, damp feeling of her fur out of his mind. The subtle, horrifying scent of death, the cries of the patrol as they try to wrench him away from her mother’s body. He wasn’t good enough. She left them because of him. Was it all StarClan’s doing from the day of his birth? Aspenheart begged him to stop thinking that, telling him she simply couldn’t handle the responsibility. Despite this, Heatherkit still blamed himself. Did his mother truly hate him that much? Was it because he was built…wrong? Perhaps she wanted a perfect child, someone he could never be. At that moment, he decided then that he wouldn’t let her expectations control him. Nor his father’s, even if his words weren’t said with malice. He would not let his sister’s untimely death lead him for the rest of his life. He had to find his own path, not one his mother would have wanted. A moon or so after he became an apprentice, and consequently failing his duties as a warrior, he decided to go under the mentorship of Frostpool. Heatherpaw is not built for fighting, nor hunting. But he has a strong way with herbs, and a desire to help others, not because he’s obliged to, but because he wants to.