Nightwing

male

three

whirlwind, stormkit - died of white cough

black angora tom with pale silver yellow eyes

black, yellow eyes, athletic musculature, powerful and long legged

cold, anti-social, prided, self confident

Born to a black angora tom, Cedarheart, and a blue/smoke point angora, Bluesky, Nightwing, then Nightkit, gained his traits from his father. His brother, Whirlkit, was pure white with cold gray eyes, taken after the white on his mother, and gray eyes from her. Their sister was very pretty, slender and small, petite. Too small, it seemed, and although her lovely appeal of black and gray on tail and muzzle and "neck brace" markings of black didn't seem to hold the will of StarClan, for she died five weeks later of white cough, her runty form finally still and drifted into the paws of StarClan.

At six months old, it seemed both already had their feel of acdventure. Before six months, both left due to a rogue incident, young and naive, believing both strong cats could take down this cat -- unknowing the huge size of the Norwegian Forest Cat x Maine Coon rogue with an ambitious intent. At the sight, the halfblood ruthlessly slashed them, catching Nightkit's brothers' eye and ripping it from the socket. Nightkit ran, dragging his stumbling brother by his nekc scruff back to camp, where he was treated by the medicine cat. Three scratches bluntly cross where his eye used to be, how ever, the wound did not close, leaving an empty hole to peer out blindly, but lacerations still marred over from his eyebrow to the bottum of his cheek. How ever, Whirlpaw's apprenticeship was at stake, due to only having one eye.

Apprenticed at seven moons; for they were held back for the mistake that would haunt Nightpaw's brother, Whirlpaw, forever, and forever lock guilt on Nightpaw, the mistake of meeting face to face with the horrible rogue. Whirlpaw was trained by Moonfeather, a gray Russian Blue with beautiful, calming, feathery blue eyes. Nightpaw was trained by a strict, defiant tom, a black and brown tom, Wolfpine. Wolfpine was cruel, and nothing Nightpaw did seemed to appeal, but Moonfeather was the exact opposite. When warriors, Nightwing was extremely protective now, but had an outershell of fury and anti socialness, due to the hard times of being an apprentice. It turns out Wolfpine was giving information to the rogue that marred Whirlpaw for life, and was exiled to join him and his filthy rogue scum brethren. Although he softened slightly, Nightwing believes Wolfpine is still out there, waiting to rip him to shreds, as if he knows that he was the one who told on the ambitious rogue.

Now, Nightwing and his brother Whirlwind still live in WindClan, moved by the cold raptures of possibility of moving from the forest.

do you feel like a man when you push her around
ic; The furious clash between claw and fang ended as soon as it started. At late, Nala was some what itched about the fact that she had not seen her daughter; or mother, for that matter. Of course, nothing to worry. Sarafina could take care of her self. As the large beast had crashed to the ground, dust unsettled and created a powdery glow, a cloud of dust and dirt and remainders of flowers and grass. As the dust settled, the lioness with a slender musculate was already peeling the flesh away from the fruitful meat.

A meal was one of the little things that drew her stress away, giving her time to think. How ever, hunting required precise tactics, and was usually tried to be stolen by a hungry hyena and such. The better was to settle and chat with her mate; Simba, the ethnic soul that made up a large part of her life. Withdrawing a sigh, she slyly licked her chops as she glanced down at the limp figure and the undergrowth it had crushed, the swaying grasses unmoved now that it lay beneath the large creature. Her cerulean eyes glinted with some malice that had often been seen in her younger years. She stared down at the zebra who never had a chance to fight back except a swift kick to her jaw with of course only gave a sharp, barely bleeding wound though it didn't stop the fact that it was a wound, the light liquid softly tickling her jaws, the scent of bitter sweet blood flooding Nala's nasal passages.

Licking her chops once more, the sweet taste of blood did not taste bitter like it once did in Scar's short reign. Closing her eyes as she drew back from the raw flesh, a resentful sigh drew from her throat as she remembered that fearful day when Simba nearly let his life fall between Scar's paws. Every time she thought of this, a similiar painful jolt awoke her from her day dreams of the past. You shouldn't bide so heavily on the past, she scolded her self. That was done and over with. Yet, she couldn't help but fear one day that it could happen again. Simba had said lightly that the Outlands was a deserted barren, a grotto long forgotten. Yet, she knew some thing hateful was growing in the Outlands.

A soft smile crossed her jaws as that day she finally saw Simba. She could barely remember what happened yesterday, but the most intense moments with Simba she could remember, and would never forget. She lowered her muzzle and gnawed on the patterned skin until it revealed the red pink flesh of the animal. Poor beast, she thought. Didn't even have a chance.

The warm blood was trickled into her jaws as she licked the meat, ears raising slightly. She locked her jaws upon a single portion of the flesh and shook her head slightly, tearing a fresh piece of meat. As she ripped the flesh from the spots as it became a smaller hunk, she looked up immediately as a soft noise was heard. She scanned the area, and rose. Heart thumping, she was afraid that it would drown out any other noise. Then. .

A blur of orange, beige and mahogany red flew at her, knocking her back and tumbling over the zebra's limp body. Leathered black lips were pulled back into a disgusted grimace, and a snap was sent through the air. A warning. But it stopped abrubtly as she smelled his scent. Simba's. She relaxed and tumbled through the reeds in a playful tussle of affectionate noises and the tussle was ended as she rolled against some green reeds with Simba pinning her.

A teasing smile crossed her lips as they once had when they had met once more, and where she had met Timon and Pumbaa, the strange little duo. She responded by stretching her neck and attempting to lick his cheek affectionately. "What is a King doing out this early in the day?" She asked calmly, but her same loving tone that she gave him many times before. She knew his awnser, any ways. Affection was one of the many things offered to Simba, confirmed by only the stare of gratitude and loving rumble of a purr.
do you feel better now as she falls to the ground

traitors