#volestep

[nightgen]

More cats!!! no specific order. I hate the new post editor <3

[thetrailofflames]

Why did the adults do nothing about the relationship between sandpaw and ravenpaw?

The Splintered Woods has a “tough love” mindset and survival of the fittest ideal. Being a coward gets you absolutely no where but especially not in this guild where strength matters.

They expect Ravenpaw to even out and grow a backbone and Sandpaw seems like a fine fit for it.

Panthersnarl and Tigerclaw definitely encourage this to varying degrees, plus them being adopted family makes it all the more easier for Sandpaw to have access to Ravenpaw.

Robinwing, being an outsider accepted into the guild, is in a middle place of being able to deal with the ideals and wanting to help her son. She’s standing back since he hasn’t been physically hurt, yet, but she doesn’t like what’s happening but knows she has her own standing to remember.

Fuzzypelt is guildborn and very much bought into this mindset but him and his son are alike in so many ways. He hides this for his own standing but allows his platonic partner Robinwing to see this side of him.

Mottletail isn’t exactly please with Sandpaw’s attitude but he’s still a cat raised in the splinters so he lets it happen, Volestep as well.

[pine-clan]

Yes, Shadefoot has kids. The names: Mousesqueak, Volestep, and Minkcall. They're all my favorite triplet and if anything happens to them I'm going to die. /Silly

[doritopaw101]

Because it’s our rewrite and we can do what we want with it /j /j

Jokes aside, as a rewriter myself and knowing a couple of good rewriters.

I wouldn’t say the names often chosen for characters are basic in any regards. Seriously what’s basic and generic about names like Monarchmask, Racconrustle, or Cricketdawn?

I definitely don’t think the funny names are breaker of immersion just stuff that doesn’t fit in the world I or others set. I absolutely don’t stick with what’s in the books, that’s limiting as hell.

Personally, I prefer names where they’re is meaning and culture behind it. Like where they live and their beliefs.

For example, I renamed Leopardfoot to Panthersnarl because well Leopards aren’t normally black and there’s been use of Tiger, Lion, and Leopard, why not use other big names and thing related to that.

There’s meaning behind the name too. A cat blessed by the holy mother who’s a vicious fighter and has an aggressive temper. This all has to do with the lore and culture I made for my rewrite and its fun.

I renamed Runningwind to Volestep (honestly it might change but not the point) and Onewhisker to Valerianwhisker. Not because I hated their names but because it wouldn’t fit the world and naming conventions I set. Plus, I did change Valerian’s appearance to a black tabby with purple eye so that as well.

In a rewrite, it’s basically our own rules for how the world works and how the ‘clans’ are. Our fictional playground. Things in canon aren’t exactly going to be same so why should the names?

We can do what we want, why not have fun with the naming system.

What’s with Warriors rewrites and removing all the fun names?

Like, I get it. Someone naming their kit ‘Longkit’ and ‘Clawkit’ is a little silly.

But literally every rewrite I’ve ever read is so BORING

What’s wrong with Runningwind? With Onewhisker?? Runningwind is fucking cute!

And they always give them such basic ass names. Like, idk, Brownstep or something. It’s always so generic.

I’d rather have silly names than another fifty thousand Robinwings because, let’s face it, there are only so many prefixes to go around and if you want to be boring then there’s only so much you can do.

Actually, you know what? My turn!

AU where everyone has fun names!

Graystripe is named Graylion because that bitch would ask to be named after his mentor and you know it! Ravenpaw would be Ravenshiver if he hadn’t left because he’s skinny and cold! Dustpelt is named Dustbranch because he does all sorts of construction! Mousefur’s renamed Mouseburr because she’s all prickly! Tigerclaw’s renamed Tigerstalk because he’s stealthy and shit! Bluefur and Snowfur are Bluemoon and Snowflower after their mother because them sharing a suffix is lazy as fuck!

All that to say, I get heated about really random things. Modern names are dope as shit and first arch rewrites that take out all the fun names are so dumb. This is a fictional book series about cats who can talk, have an organized religion, and can do MATH. The cats know what FRACTIONS ARE. Some cool names that turn silly when you think about them are hardly the biggest thing breaking your immersion.

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Four: Chapter Seven

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Beetlefoot landed precisely where he meant to: hidden from view atop the cliff was a soft mound of soil, the result of a lot of work on the part of the Brae to make their area easier to access. The perspective from above was confusing thanks to the shadows present most of the day, making it look like there was nothing there at all.

Beetlefoot wasted no time. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he whipped sideways and pelted it into the open, down through the dip in the mountain’s face where melted snow ran down in a stream during early springtime.

As he expected, there were shouts of anger. The Fleet’s deputy yelled his name.

“Beetlefoot!” Fogpetal barked. “Come down here immediately! That’s an order!”

Beetlefoot barely slowed his pace enough to taunt them with a clamber upwards onto the slope again. He paused for a moment, pretending to look around for places to go.

“Go after him,” he heard Fogpetal growl. When he looked down, Frostclaw and the golden tom Brushdust were sprinting straight for him.

Perfect.

Beetlefoot ran into the dense woods, keeping an even speed to give himself room for error if he tripped or needed to jump, but not too much to discourage the other Fleet cats from following him. Time had not erased his memories of this place; he crossed a stream and cleared a few logs without paying much attention.

“Beetlefoot!” Frostclaw yowled. “Why are you betraying us?! For nothing?!”

“Come back!” Brushdust added, just as angry. “You need to help your family, Beetlefoot! What’s wrong with you?!”

What’s wrong with me, Beetlefoot snarled in his mind, almost furious enough to stop, turn around and attack Brushdust. What’s wrong with me. Always me. Never you. You didn’t care about me before, but now that I’m inconveniencing you…

Focus. He needed to focus. Berate them later.

He grit his teeth and fired up his legs until they were mere blurs, paws hardly touching the ground. The Fleet cats behind him were breathing hard, struggling to keep up with him. He kept his pace tightly controlled – he needed their scents to stretch a little further into the woods before he lost them.

Fogpetal had said it before, and though Beetlefoot hadn’t ever heard her, he knew it to be true as she did: he really was the fastest cat in the Fleet, and he was delighted to show it off. Even Brushdust, who was named for his speed as much as Beetlefoot was, couldn’t keep up. Their breaths got more ragged, and they were slowly lagging behind. They were out of energy and their quarry was only going faster. Beetlefoot waited until he had passed the tallest tree in the woods to start sprinting as fast as he could. Within moments, the sounds of Brushdust and Frostclaw faded away. He didn’t have to look back to know they had given up and stopped.

That was fine. The important part was that they had left their scents on a path in the center of Brae territory.

Beetlefoot slowed down into a jog when he could no longer hear either of his chasers. He needed to preserve some energy for the next stage in the plan.

He continued on, breathing harder and harder to prepare, before coming up to a huge, piled-up swath of brambles and berry bushes. The scent of cats came through the hidden entrance, a tangle of thorny vines that looked much harder to pass through than it was. He hesitated for a moment before bracing himself and scrambling through the entrance like his tail was on fire. He flopped onto his stomach on the loamy earth for the effect.

When he looked up, panting, a sea of brown and tortoiseshell and ginger faces were focused on him. Every hair on every back was standing straight up, and every muzzle was wrinkled with alarm and anger. Nothing had changed since he’d been gone, at least.

“Deerfur!” Beetlefoot shouted between false gasps. “Where’s Deerfur?”

A fluffy brown molly pushed through the crowd, ears pinned against her head. “What do you think you’re doing here?!”

Beetlefoot ignored her, just calling again, “Deerfur!”

Growling mutters rippled through the crowd, until an aging brown tabby parted the cats and approached with a high head and dignified steps.

“You need to have a very good reason for why you’re here again, Beetlepaw,” he said, venom in every word.

Beetlefoot didn’t bother correcting him. Instead, he looked up with wide eyes, panting, “I was – nearby – and there’s cats – a whole patrol – on the border – they chased me – came to warn you…”

He had no idea what would happen if the family didn’t believe him. All he could do was try and persuade them harder. Beyond that, he was stuck.

Luckily, the Brae all looked at each other with shock, in total belief. The elder deputy narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, sniffing the air around Beetlefoot like he was a rotting jay.

“You reek of outsiders,” he said.

“Got – too close to them,” Beetlefoot gasped. He shook his head and let his breathing even out a little, adding, “They were near Versant grounds. On the border. Some came into - the woods - when I ran to warn you.”

Deerfur squinted at Beetlefoot, as if trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth or not. The fluffy molly was glaring at the two toms, tail lashing.

Finally, Deerfur said, “How many?”

“Nine or ten,” Beetlefoot responded. He slowly got to his feet. “They looked strong. And they’re aggressive.”

Deerfur looked behind him at the rest of Brae. “Every warrior with me. We’ll correct them.” He turned back to Beetlefoot. “Lead us to them, and then leave our woods. You’re not welcome here.”

“I’m aware.” Beetlefoot turned and quickly scooted back under the brambles. He waited for the rest of the blend of brown and ginger to exit before setting off at a run again, this time slower. The Brae followed him in total silence, and he could feel their eyes like claws scoring his back. He refused to look back, just breathed heavily and kept going. He couldn’t help a smidge of satisfaction when they reached the big pine and he heard hisses at the scent of Fleet cats.

They reached the edge of the woods and Beetlefoot paused as soon as he caught sight of Fogpetal’s patrol. There was a yowl and a wave of cats swept around him, yelling curses.

“You have a lot of nerve,” Deerfur said at nearly a shout, which clearly took effort on his part after that run. “You and your sorry Fleet rats are to leave immediately.”

Fogpetal looked shocked (and not a little nervous). She took a step forward, starting, “Greetings. We’re just here for-“

“Get OUT!” the fluffy molly screeched. “NOW!”

Mothers never change, Beetlefoot thought.

More screeches and scoldings rose from the Brae cats. Fogpetal tried to speak again, but she was shouted down. Viceroyclaw flexed her claws and strode forward, only for three cats to meet her challenge and unsheathe their claws, growling.

Beetlefoot wasted no more time in watching. He snuck to the cliff where the others were waiting, completely unnoticed by the Brae. They watched him as he came around to the side of the cliff he had jumped from and motioned silently for them. One by one, they landed beside him, some glancing in shock at the commotion down the slope. When everyone was down, he turned and ran up the mountain and into the forest, a good distance from where he had come out.

With some satisfaction, he noted that no one was following. The Brae were occupying the hunters, and there looked to be a fight soon.

Good.

“What did you do?” Laurelclaw whispered once everyone was in the forest and had slowed to a loping canter. “How did you get the Brae out here?”

“Anyone stepping near their border is cause for action,” Beetlefoot said, not looking back. The satisfaction had turned grim and his chest was tight with resentment.

“But they should’ve attacked you,” Littlepaw said. “Even I know the Brae are terrible to outsiders.”

“I was born here,” Beetlefoot said curtly, and focused hard on the ground ahead of him.

The silence behind him was heavy and awkward. He knew they all wanted to ask questions. Or pass judgement. Whatever. The two options were equally bad.

“Well,” Darkpelt said eventually, “It’s a shame we didn’t discuss that more before. We could have been gossiping about our families this whole time. Or been at each other’s throats. I don’t know how it is for you.”

Beetlefoot forced himself to relax a little. “The Brae are as awful as you’ve heard. I would just be complaining about them.”

“Still ripe gossip,” Darkpelt said lightly.

“Well, you and I both have terrible families,” Flyfang offered with a slight chuckle that was clearly meant to ease the mood and failed. “We could have been complaining together.”

Beetlefoot didn’t respond, and neither did anyone else. He kept his pace at a careful speed that he hoped the rest wouldn’t struggle on.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Greyleaf finally asked.

Beetlefoot was relieved to break the silence again. “There’s a waterfall nearby, just outside of the border. We can stop there and rest. And hunt, hopefully.”

Flyfang sighed with relief. “Thank the aspects. I’m starving.”

“We all are,” Mistface replied. “Oughta hurry, though, if the Brae are plannin’ on comin’ back for us.”

Everyone seemed game for that, so Beetlefoot started to run. He knew they was exhausted – he finally was, too – but the threat of being caught gave them just enough energy to cross through the dark and peat-thick woods at a quicker pace.

Still, it felt like they were in the growing shadows of the forest for an eternity before the waterfall’s roar could be heard in the distance. They all slowed unanimously into a trot, relieved. It took until the moon was about to escape being scraped by the pine trees’ crowns before they reached their target.

The waterfall was quite loud, which would be useful to cover their voices. The dark water reflected the moonlight even brighter than the growing dew on the plants around the river that white waves crashed down into. A fine mist rising from the falls made everything pearly and iridescent, rays of moonlight glimmering in lines to dapple the ground. The air smelled rich and fresh.

Beetlefoot led the rest of the renegades to a small cavern behind the waterfall, noticing everyone’s relief when he kept moving through the deafening echoes of the cavern and emerged on the other side to a grassy clearing. He had no intention of sleeping within the waterfall’s cover either. Being just outside was good enough.

“This is quite nice,” Redheart remarked as everyone investigated the clearing’s edges. “Do the Brae come by this way?”

“As far as they know, no one else is aware of that pathway.” Beetlefoot unconsciously spoke as if he was giving a report. “It’s rare to see any other cats here. We should be safe to rest.”

“And hunt.” Flyfang stretched and motioned with her tail. “Laurelclaw, come help me fish. There’s got to be something good in water like this."

Laurelclaw nodded, but meekly said, “I’m not that great of a hunter, just as a warning.”

“But you’ve dealt with currents stronger than anything this river's got,” Flyfang said, “so we should be fine.”

“Thank you,” Redheart said with a tired huff of air. “I wouldn’t be much use hunting right now.”

Satisfied that the clearing was safe, the rest of the cats found spots to nest in and collapsed into reclining positions. Flyfang and Laurelclaw returned and left multiple times with fish, eventually coming back for real once they had their own meals. Everyone had barely restrained themselves from eating before the two settled down with them, and once they did, there was no conversation for as long as they scarfed down their meal. Flyfang had been right - the water's bounty was quite delicious.

Oddly, even with full stomachs, the air was somewhat tense. Beetlefoot couldn’t pick out why it was or where it was coming from until Flyfang spoke up.

“So, I’m wondering,” she said. “We’re getting closer to the Lighthouse, but I haven’t heard anyone explain exactly how we’re killing StarClan.”

The silence that followed was incredibly uneasy. Beetlefoot hadn’t actually considered that problem either.

“Mistface, you said we have to ‘get creative’, right?” Flyfang looked to the fluffy tom. “But what does that mean? What do we do?”

Mistface was the only cat who didn’t look bothered by this question. He shifted onto his side, his head resting on his shoulders, eyes drifting up to the night sky.

“It’s partly land, he said,” Greyleaf offered. “And psychic. It’ll require mental power, at least.”

“And what do we use that mental power for?” Littlepaw asked. “Not- I don’t mean to be rude, or anything. I’m genuinely curious. How do we use our minds to destroy a monster like that?”

Redheart leaned her head into the circle a little, speaking quietly. “It may sound a little silly, but if we were to perhaps use our imaginations, we could conjure something up to destroy it.”

“Like what?” Laurelclaw said. “Do we- do we imagine it breaking apart, or-?”

“Don’t think that’s the way, rightly,” Mistface finally drawled. “But Redheart’s got it. Mental power from eight cats, mortal as we may be, can power somethin’ destructive. We likely can’t change StarClan itself, but we can make ourselves a little weapon to use against it.”

Beetlefoot was at a complete loss of ideas. He internally scolded himself for not being creative enough to find a solution to a problem like this when he had earlier easily tricked the Brae into doing what he wanted.

“Oh!” Littlepaw’s head jerked up. “Right! It’s land! I know what destroys land without being part of the land itself.”

“What’ve you got, kiddo?” Flyfang looked to her apprentice hopefully.

“Fire.” Littlepaw’s fur fluffed out. “Like Calcine – his fire can destroy anything.”

“Not bad.” Mistface gave her an approving nod. “That’ll be the plan, then – channel your thoughts into somethin’ representin’ your mental power, that bein’ fire…”

“And we can burn it away?” Laurelclaw asked, ears perked.

“That’s about it,” Mistface replied. “If the thing really does rely on psychic mumbo-jumbo as much as it does, turning that around on it'll likely kill it.”

Beetlefoot spoke without thinking and immediately scolded himself. “That’s not a guarantee.”

“No,” Redheart said, “but it’s an educated plan. We should all think hard while we’re on the move of other solutions, in case that fails.”

It could overpower us, Beetlefoot wanted to say, but he stopped himself from continuing to dourly ruin a good mood. Everyone seemed happy with this plan, their postures relaxed and faces calmly eager. He just lowered his chin onto his paws and studied the ground silently.

He dearly hoped, more for the sake of his fellows than anything, that this plan would work.

[exocynraku]

Do you think Mosspaw and Brownpaw (I think that's his sibling, iirc) got warrior names in Starclan? If so, what would their warrior names be?

volepaw is his brother and dawnpaw/cloud is his sister, brownpaw is one of the cats who killed him </3 i dont think they would, but if they did thennn mossmottle, mosssplotch or mosspatch to reference his fur, mosstangle or mossleap because i think they sounds cute for volepaw, volestorm (named after featherstorm), volefur or volepelt to reference his fur and volejaw, voleburrow or volestep/skip/slip because i think they sound cool

[ailuronymy]

I've been trying to work out the -step suffix as it's confused me... can you tell me if these names use the suffix correctly or not: Lightstep, Volestep, Honeystep, Gannetstep?

Hello there! I’ve written a fair bit about the -step suffix, which you can read in the tag here. In the examples you’ve given, Volestep and Gannetstep can work in this system, because they are both 1. animals with 2. legs that can step, and therefore they fit what the requirements of the suffix are. 

Honeystep and Lightstep don’t work with the suffix because neither of those are things that can step: honey is a liquid with no legs, and light is not even a corporeal form to begin with. In this system, only fauna are used with -step, never adverbs--i.e., light- isn’t used with -step, because the combination means steps like light, not steps lightly, if that makes sense.

Naturally, in your own system, you can choose to interpret the suffix however you like! But in this system, -step follows those rules. Hope that helps!

[thetrailofflames]

Sandpaw

(Snappy / Sandkit)

Cadet

A long-legged, lean, pale dilute ginger molly with green eyes.

She has a brown belt with a white knife.

……..…………………

Bisexual ~ Trans Molly - She/Her

Daughter of Déftero Mottletail and Volestep. Niece of Pnevema Spottedleaf and Willowpelt. Granddaughter of Rosetail.

Training under Leopardstorm.

Conceited, Self-centered, Snobby

Meaning: a pale furred cat who’s in training

Absolute pompous

Her, Chestnutpaw, Thrasherpaw, and Cherrypaw are the pose of their guild.

Her and Ravenpaw are ‘friends’.