(WARNING: The spoiled segments include internalized ableism. Please do not read them if this topic bothers you.)
~ TWISTEDPAW OF WINDCLAN ~
Small, skinny, black she-cat with a light gray belly and tail-tip; has a crooked jaw, mangled tail, and one blind eye.
Placeholder ref sheet can be viewed here.
Muddy. So, so muddy...
Usually, Twistedpaw didn't groom herself. Navigating her tongue around her crooked, swinging jaw took too much effort. Her face kept scraping against her bony tail, too. Overall, it was an unpleasant affair and not something the apprentice had much experience with. Her lack of hygiene was no secret; any cat who glanced her way could see how matted and messy her pelt was. The occasional smear of dirt or speck of grass, blending brown or gleaming green, appeared among the tangled black peaks. Hardly anyone commented on her pelt, so Twistedpaw found no reason to start grooming it. She'd gotten used to the way it looked and felt, grown to ignore the occasional prick of a gorse thorn that got caught in her fur.
But the past few days had made her reconsider. Bright, sunny skies had transformed into thick, dark clouds that bombarded the WindClan cats with rain. The grassy clearing had transformed into opaque sludge. It clung to paws, pelts, anything its slimy fingers touched. The dens had been invaded, too. Mud and water leaked into the apprentices' den at night, plaguing the soft nests. Twistedpaw's little corner, all the way back in the deepest shadows, was safe. But when she left the den... She was anything but.
She stayed inside more than the other apprentices, but she still ventured out enough for her paws to get coated and her pelt to be splattered by the dark brown slush. It tracked into her nest, too, which hadn't been changed in StarClan knew how long. That meant Twistedpaw slept in it every night.
Thank StarClan every cat's dirty, or Batglare wouldn't be happy! She respected her mentor and wanted to appease him, but there were some aspects of her life she couldn't change.
The small black she-cat pushed the thought away. Sitting in her old, wet, smelly corner of the apprentices' den, she attempted to groom herself. Her crooked jaw lolled, thumping against her chest as she craned her neck and stretched her tongue to eradicate some of the mud caked on her chest near the junction of her shoulder. Drool slid down the side of her mouth. It was not comfortable. Or easy. Twistedpaw's mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration.
Almost... there...
Someone called her name.
Twistedpaw froze midlick, her tongue hanging. Quickly, she gathered her wits. Swiping the drool from her mouth, the apprentice hurried out of the den, careful not to touch her denmates' nests. The last thing she wanted to do was make them unhappy, uncomfortable, or mad at her. The thought sent a shiver down her spine as she emerged from the dugout beneath the gorse bush. Immediately, her paws hit mud, splattering it along her legs and underside. Twistedpaw flinched and prayed none of her Clanmates were looking.
Who called me? she wondered, looking around and thanking StarClan that it wasn't raining. If it had been, she might've missed whoever called her or been unable to see.
Is it Batglare? Yet there was no sign of the massive senior warrior.
Even with only one working eye, it didn't take her long to spot Fallownose. The tall slate-gray tom was standing in the center of the clearing, gathering patrols. Twistedpaw's blood ran cold, and it wasn't because seeing the WindClan deputy reminded her of how he'd tackled and clawed Willowsky. She'd gotten over that... mostly. No, it was because she was to go on a patrol. Even though she was four moons into her apprenticeship, Twistedpaw had never been on one. She'd always stuck to training with Batglare and hiding in the apprentices' den or a corner of camp when they were done. A chill colder than leaf-bare weather sluiced through her, worse than the sticky, slimy mud. Going on patrol meant meeting Clanmates she didn't know.
Her paws began to tremble.
Even worse, Twistedpaw didn't know who she was going with. She'd only heard her name and "Sky Glade." That was it. The thought of going anywhere near ShadowClan territory made her nerves even worse. What if they met a ShadowClan patrol? The conflict between the two Clans was over, but she'd heard of how bloodthirsty they were.
And Batglare hasn't taught me how to fight yet! With the delays in her apprenticeship and the time it took to learn due to her deformities, he hadn't gotten around to it yet. Twistedpaw took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in her heart.
Featherbrain! You should've been out here, listening to Fallownose call the patrols. She made a mental note to keep her ears out for the deputy whenever it was time for patrols and she was in camp. She didn't know exactly when they were sent out all the time, of course, but she could guess the general period when they needed to be dispatched.
But now she was stuck outside with no idea who she was supposed to be with.
Surely my patrolmates will know... Twistedpaw hoped so.
However, to meet with them, she had to stand in the middle of the clearing, her hideous, pathetic figure out for all to see. Already, she could feel their eyes boring into her pelt, hear their thoughts as they judged her... The skinny she-cat shrank beneath her matted, muddy pelt, lowering her mismatched gaze. Heat stained her cheeks, and the bulging light gray tip of her mangled tail twitched self-consciously. Please find me soon... What would they think of her, though?
Was she going with someone she knew? Batglare, Brightpaw, Mousefern, Leechscar, Dreamlight, Fireflame, Twilightstar, Wolffang, Leopardsong... She'd be fine with any of them. But if it was someone else, only StarClan knew what lay in wait for her.
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Starfall @
x ghostie (Apologies for the long post! I went into it thinking, "Hey, it won't be that long. I'll just let it flow and go over these points/ideas I want to cover," and uhh... It's over 1,000 words. Whoops.)