choirpaw

PERSONALITY .

Choirpaw is definitely a strange cat. With immense cleverness, even for someone as young as they are, Choirpaw lives and breathes in the pursuit of knowledge, often to a dangerous degree. Among their peers, they’re known as a bit of a firebrand, willing to get angry at even the slightest provocation. However, they’re provocative in turn, and have a tendency to get into lots of trouble. Their ire is easy to earn, and their trust is not, but when they do enter into some kind of agreement or pact with another cat, they’ll follow that agreement to the bitter end.

Choirpaw is quite good at attracting other cats to their side, and among their siblings was known as a leader. How that will shake out during their tenure with Zenithclan, it’s up to fate, but Choirpaw expects to fall into leadership soon enough. They hate when they aren’t taken seriously, despite their short stature and short fuse.

HISTORY .

Choirpaw was not born in any clan. The smallest kit in the litter of a rogue from beyond clan borders, Choirpaw was simply named Choir at birth, with her siblings Guitar, Chord, Harp, and Harmonic. Their mother, Band, was a rogue, in days long past, but that’s a story for another time. Choirpaw herself was a rambunctious kit, always fluttering from one place to another with the type of brightness only an innocent could.

Eventually, though, one of Choirpaw’s little adventures would guide her too far off the beaten path. She would come across an empty hollow, and within it, something that Choirpaw could neither understand nor remember. But, when she stumbled back to her mother’s nest at dawn the next morning, she was sick. Choirpaw would live in sickness for the next moon. It would pass from her to her siblings and then her mother. By some stroke of luck, Choirpaw would survive.

Her kin would not.

When Zenithclan found Choirpaw at the edge of the mountains, she was half-starved and very much terrified. The clan would take her in, however, and she would become one of their own. One of their own, save for the way that, every full moon, she would disappear to places unknown, found the next morning everytime, a hint of blood on her paws.