Foxpaw // tom {done.}

[Dere]

Name: Foxpaw.
Age: Seven moons.
Gender: Tom.
Breed: Cross.
Clan: Rockclan.
Rank: Apprentice.





Eye color: Green-blue.
Pelt color: Orange tabby.
Markings: None.
Height: Eight inches high.
Weight: 1.5 pounds.


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Likes: Mice, the sun, training.
Dislikes: Clouds, sickness, wind, bullies.
Full Personality: Foxpaw is a timid cat, usually scared of any cat larger then him. It takes a long time for a cat to befriend him, regularly, he will simply shy away. But most /cats/ have a dark side, just like how every rose has it's thorns, don't you agree? Foxpaw has a disguised hate towards the rival clans, or anyone to scar him mentally, for that matter.

But for the most part, Foxpaw is a shy young tom cat who wouldn't mind attention every now and then, only hating on rival clans when they steal prey, invade, etc. Foxpaw has a civilized attitude most of the time, when doing good for his clan, but he can become violent if the situation has something to do with rivals.

Foxpaw is a quick thinker when it comes to hunting, coming up with good places to hunt. He isn't a good fighter though, and prefers hunting over practicing battle moves.





Birth Day: March 30th.
Birth Clan: Rockclan.
Family: Gingerstorm ;; Father.
Frozenstream ;; Mother.
Imppaw ;; Brother.
{You can create any of these cats except Frozenstream if you ask me, }
History:
Foxkit was drawn to the sweet smells of the nearby flowers. He had carefully left camp without anyone noticing. He was so sly! Just like a fox, which he had been named after, but only because he was a ginger tabby like his father. Not because he was smart, nobody knew he was smart to be honest, they had though he had a disability because all he usually did was sit around and think. Stare. Think. He drooled while doing this, and that added to the fact of them thinking he was retarded. As Foxkit leaned over to smell the flower, he heard a rustling in the bushes that were a few tail lengths away. The noises grew louder and out came a starved hare. he stared at the creature, taking pity on it, it didn't deserve starving. "Oh, poor little hare..." He mewed and padded over to investigate, looking closely at it, he noticed it had stopped breathing it was dead. Being the kind kitten Foxkit was, he sat down next to it and sighed. "You need a vigil for the night," He mewed in his tiny, shrill voice.

Padding back to camp, he slipped though the entrance and was caught by the cats eating at the fresh-kill pile, one of the cats came bounding over. The cat was his mother. "Foxkit! Where were you!?" She questioned through frantic licks. "I was, uh..." Was all that he managed to squeeze out. And thus, began his punishment.

Waking up in the morning, he glanced outside. "Why is everyone looking at me funny..." His father trotted beside him. "Because the clan has detected the stench of poison on your pelt."

[Libby]

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