Cedarsong is a thick-boned she-cat, and while she is short and stout, her large size leaves her comparable to the size of her clanmates. Her pelt is mostly white with patches of brown tabby markings that stretch across her ears, back, and over her tail. It is important to note that she has a mangled back leg that was broken in a two-leg trap about five moons ago. She has very large, yellow eyes that are often rimmed red nowadays from crying.
LIKES || Her family, hunting, MoorClan, staying busy DISLIKES || Herself and her leg, being pitied, failing, being an elder STRENGTHS || Diplomacy, patience with others, determination WEAKNESS || determination, her leg, self-care and respect, her pride DREAMS || to become a warrior and then to find her place once she realizes that will never happen. FEARS || to admit she will never be a warrior
Pride has a nasty way of destroying those who bask in it for too long. Cedarsong had once been a cat so consumed by their pride that they fell victim to it. She once believed she was invincible, untouchable. That she could control every outcome in her young life if she only worked hard enough for it. She’d once been strong and unapologeticly boastful of her own abilities - so much so that it was probably annoying for those around her. Now? Humility seems to have taught her a lesson that destroyed every fiber of her former being.
Since her injury, Cedarsong has fallen into a depression so severe that she spends most of her time alone. When she is around others, she feigns happiness - especially around her brother and sister because she doesn’t want them to feel sorry for her. As someone who ruined their own life, the only pity she wants from anyone is the pity she gives herself. She’s determined to find a way to make her leg work again - to not be useless to MoorClan - but it’s futile. It’s only a matter of time before she admits it and succumbs to the reality that this life as an elder is all she has left and when that reality finally sets in, it’ll destroy her.
From birth, young Cedarsong had been groomed for perfection. She was smart, charismatic, and funny - winning the heart of nearly everyone she met. Her parents promised great things and her cockiness only grew, swelling her small chest with pride. She’d strut around like a peacock around the nursery, only offering her paw to play when the opportunity to play MoorClan’s leader presented itself. She was stronger and faster than everyone else (in her own mind, anyway) so why shouldn’t she lead the best clan there was.
When they became apprentices and Cedarsong was assigned to Flametooth, it was only fitting. He worked her harder than most mentors did, but she pushed through every obstacle the older tom provided, determined to be the best warrior she could be. She was nearly there, too. She was the strongest fighter, swiftest runner, the best prowler of their litter. She was going to be the best warrior MoorClan had ever seen - by her count.
Until the day of their trial.
The siblings had gone out together, Cedarpaw’s head held high and chest puffed out as it often was. She spouted the best game, trained the hardest, and so she had no doubt she’d receive a name that reflected all her hard work. Maybe something like Cedarleap for the way she jumped the highest, or Cedarchaser for the way she raced through the moors, or even Cedarstrike for her powerful blows in battle. They’d stumbled across a two-leg trap - something she’d never seen before - but found it to be sharp and metal and laced with a sweet smelling meat. She’d proudly strutted over, determined to show her siblings that she was the best - that she could get the treat out and she’d proudly carry her catch the whole way home.
Lining up with her hind legs, she kicked the meat from the latch of the trap and smiled proudly as she did so - only for her smile to turn into a screech of pain as the contraption clamped shut on her leg. The sound of bones cracking and snapping as it closed was nothing compared to the pain that radiated through her.
Just like that, the dreams of young Cedarpaw were destroyed. And she had no one to blame but herself.
It took some time for the wound to heal, but she was never the same. Her ugly leg made it nearly impossible for her to hunt as it dragged uselessly behind her. She couldn’t lift it, couldn’t pull it closer to her body so every time she’d try to crouch into a hunting stance, she’d alert any prey in the area as it rustled in the grass behind her. Her balance never quite recovered either, making her a poor fighter at best. She tried for three moons to become worthy of the title of warrior again before she was finally pulled aside and made an elder. Her name? Cedarsong.
Her pride was destroyed. And for two moons, she’s lived uselessly in the elder’s den, knowing it is no one’s fault but her own. And hating herself for it.
Mother: Cricketleap Father: Unimportant Siblings: @goosesnap and Pidgeonpounce Mentor(s): Flametooth Apprentice(s): NA Mate(s): NA Kit(s): NA
OUT OF CHARACTER
one line appearance || A white and brown tabby with yellow eyes and mangled hind leg.