Part 1: Biography


V. Introduction
) n a m e: coldstar--->cold; lacking in affection or warmth of feeling; unemotional , --->fang; a [blockquote]large, sharp tooth

green eyes.

the flickering in the shadows scares you, does it? the rustle of leaves? look closer and you will see that no monster lurks there. it's a large cat, whose pelt blends with his surroundings. coldstar was born to be an eveningclan cat, with round paws that do not easily sink into the mud and fur that keeps out the cold and is easy to lick clean. his stature is of average height but he is stockily built and heavily muscled- an intimidating cat to approach under most circumstances.

his eyes stand out in the blackness of night, when his clan most prefers to hunt. they are an intense pale green, so pale as if nearly impossibly colored, which seem to always be narrowed in distate or contemplation. he hides his emotions behind these eyes. for most cats, no matter how hard you might look, you will see only dead eyes. eyes that do not project intelligence, fear, pride, joy, hate, or bloodlust. just eyes, not blind, but which hold a steady gaze no matter the situation. these are not the kind of eyes anycat willingly stares into.

he is very muscular, with stronger hind legs that help propel him through the thick mud that accumulates in his territory, and short legs that keep him low to the ground. he does not, however, look at all plump. he's lean enough, and scarred as a warrior cat, with a large head and broad shoulders, but a shorter tail. there is little need for balance on the marshes where he was born, only the need, the inescapable need, to survive.

his ears are small and wide, his muzzle square and more than a little flat, tipped in a pale pink nose. he has a large forehead that gives him a perpetually furrowed brow, a sort of always analytical expression that while giving the impression he's surveying you will give away nothing else, coupled with those cold green eyes that are his namesake. he has a sloping back that makes him faster or stronger depending on whether he lifts or lowers his shoulders, useful in battle and in hunting.

his fur is thick, but not entirely water-resistant. it sheds dirt easily and does not let mud sink too close to his skin, making it a short task to clean after a hunt in the marshes. her whiskers are long and white, while his fur is almost a brindle, tawny in some places ut mostly a dark brown to a wolfish gray, with rich black tabby markings throughout. two lines under his eyes are a tawny color and are the most prominent of the light brown fur on his body, while his chest, throat, muzzle and three of his four paws are white (two front, one hind).

he is not what most would consider handsome, but he is intimidating, and he does come across with a sense of power, which tends to be something she-cats admire. he is a cat that at a glance looks normal enough, but once your eyes snag on his cold gaze, his authoritive aura will outlast any stare from any other cat.

coldstar's primary mode of living is focused inward, where he easily deals with problems rationally and logically. he lives in the world of theoretical possibilities, and sees everything according to how it might be improved or turned into. he lives primarily inside his own mind, analtytically gifted and pattern-seeking as it is, and seeks clarity in his life, which drives him to build his own knowledge and that of his clanmates. he highly values intelligence and is strongly driven to turn problems into explanations. because of his internal focus he often places less value on the world outside his head, which explains his vacant expression.

he is constantly working on new theories, approaching problems with skepticism and tending to ignore the general rules of the warrior code in regard to his own idea of how to fix the problem facing him. he is extremely intelligent but highly critical. he is most excited by new ideas, especially abstract ones concerning the minds and feelings and instincts of the others around him. he seems, often, distant to his clanmates, because he hates to work on the routine things a warrior must do- hunting and fighting and training are a bore to him unless something new and challenging is always thrown into the mix.

when something has piqued his interest, he throws forth every ounce of time and energy to finding a soloution to a problem, but as a leader he is strong and weak all at once. he does not prefer to lead or follow any cat, and is very accepting of most that seek to guide him. he's usually a tolerant tom unless his beliefs are challenged, in which case he is more set in his ways than any other cat in the clan. he is often quiet around those he does not understand or know very well, but once trust is established he is a gregarious individual who scarcely spends a moment not speaking about his theories.

he has never understood when others make decisions based off of their feelings- none of the feelings are logical, so the explanations fro their decisions make no sense. because of this he's not usually in-tune with the other cats' feelings, and is unequipped to deal with the emotions that face him in everyday life. he is often critical and overly sarcastic, and if he cannot work as he wishes he becomes negative or cynical.

if someone doesn't understand him, he's unlikely to change his words to suit the others. once he's figured something out, he will immidiately drop the project, moving quickly onward to the next thing. overall, he is an independent, unconventional and origional character, usually restless and tempremental, and hard to get along with- but his strong problemsolving abilities and lack of feeling turned him into the leader of a clan that most needed him- a strong, unphased cat who is not easily turned away.

intotheflame-->
on a cool greenleaf evening, palebelly lay in the nursery, awaiting the birth of her second litter. the first had not gone well; two of the kits were stillborn and one survived. his name was juniperpaw, and he looked rather like his father (though he didn't know this), handsome and cold-hearted, a true eveningclan warrior in the making. as night fell, she felt more and more that the new litter would be coming soon.

when it did, there were only two kits, but both were healthy and strong. a she-kit that looked like palebelly herself, which she named sandkit, and a very dark-furred tom with her eyes that she named coldkit for the icy chill that first came over her at the moment his eyes opened. she could see that he would make a great warrior someday, and as he grew it became more and more apparent that he rivaled juniperfang in his unfeeling ways...

she began to realize that they had been set to be enemies from the day coldkit was born...

for the majority of his kithood, coldkit sat back and observed the way clan life moved. he watched as the queens and elders basked in the sunlight, as the deputy commanded the warriors, as the strongest and bravest of the warriors moved with the shadows into the darkness to hunt, bringing back fresh prey for the day-warriors. but there was a problem, one that many clans had faced for a long time- when it rained, the prey became cold or muddied, and was uncomfortably heavy and damp in the clans' stomachs.

he formulated an idea that would change this, though he told only sandkit, who agreed it was a good idea and vowed not to tell any cat. coldkit knew that his plan would not hold any weight until he had proved his worth as an apprentice, so for that leafbare the clan ate cold, muddy prey and most lost the light in their eyes save coldkit and his loyal sister.

of course then he was an apprentice, working hard to show his determination to succeed. he didn't want anything more than to give his idea a base- no one would listen if he were only average, and he knew this with a certainty that he had never felt before. his older brother watched and coldpaw knew juniperfang envied him. it was just not important to the young cat. in hunting he learned that the night would hide him in it's blanket of shadows, that his paws would carry him swiftly if he so wished, that his muscles would go to use in the leaps he could take to chase down the prey. in fighting he devised ways to move his body that made him more nimble and supple than the enemy, small improvements to the battle moves that would give him a slight advantage if he needed it. he quickly earned a good reputation- coldpaw was labeled a hard-working, up and coming warrior of his clan that many admired and some hated.

that was just what he needed, too.

risetotheoccasion-->

when his age exceeded ten moons, he was as muscular and respected as most of the young warriors of eveningclan, and so he set his plan into action. he chose from the bottom of the cold, muddy pile for the leader, hazelstar, and brought her the prey. "hazelstar," he said, "i think that this is too cold and muddy for anyone to eat, but it's the best i could scrounge. you should eat.' the much older, graying she-cat smiled at him and took the starling, , and as she took her first bite he cleared his throat and gave his idea life with the words he had kept to himself for so long.

he would build a shelter over the freshkill pile, and lay dock leaves over the top to keep out the rain. there could be no helping the cold, but dry prey is generally warmer than wet prey in any circumstance, and hazelstar was baffled by his idea and the light that came into his eyes as he introduced it. she ordered the shelter to be built- and it helped tremendously. she made one mistake in this, though... she told the clan whose idea it had been.

now it may not have been entirely a mistake; starclan must have planned it, but juniperfang's resentment grew and palebelly feared for her sons.

she lay in the sunshine on that rare, clear-skied newleaf morning, trying to convince herself that coldpaw was old enough to take care of himself. she knew that he was self-sufficent, and strong in both mind and body, but juniperfang had a darkness of soul that coldpaw did not posess which she feared would overshadow the young cat's ideals...

as greenleaf approached, love stirred even the damp air above the marshes. juniperfang found a mate early on, a pretty but self-absorbed she-cat that was not much of a fighter, and coldpaw found himself growing close to one of his denmates, a younger she-cat named starlingpaw who listened to his ideas and suggested things but never insisted he was wrong even when they both knew he was. she was brilliant and she knew the difference between right and wrong, but she was juniperfang's mate's younger sibling.

something about that notion set juniperfang over the edge- it was more than slightly obvious that given the chance he would have chosen starlingpaw over her petty sister, but she had eyes only for his 'worthless, daydreaming' brother. as the days grew longer, his hatred grew stronger and he decided what had to be done.

it was quiet then, the night before hazelstar planned to make sandpaw and coldpaw into warriors...palebelly knew because she had been told and had also been told what their warrior names would be. sandpaw would be sandfur, and coldpaw would become coldgaze. fitting names, yet the quiet of the night disturbed the aging she-cat as she curled in the center of the warrior den, warmed by the pelts of her clanmates. she could not sleep.

she was awake when she saw juniperfang slip from the den; she saw his mate stir and press against another cat for lack of his warmth. and suddenly she knew why the silence was so wrong- it wouldn't last...

juniperfang had planned to meet starlingpaw at the dirtplace tunnel that night. the only way he convinced her was by telling her it was about bluepelt, her sister- he knew that the young cat cared more for her sister than for anything else in her clan, and he knew that she would have told coldpaw about the arranged meeting. he had no use for starlingpaw, except to lure coldpaw out into the night where he could quickly dispose of his shameful brother, and if starlingpaw threatened to tell he would kill her, too... a tragedy in the eyes of the clan, a victory in his own eyes. he yearned for coldpaw's blood to run on the floor of the forest.

starlingpaw had told coldpaw, and he had followed her that night. juniperfang could see the cold green eyes peering out from the shadows and beckoned coldpaw out with a sneer, but palebelly was crouched in the shadows behind her son and she saw the bloodlust in juniperfang's eyes.

she suddenly saw what juniperfang had planned all these moons, the depth of his hatred and the lengths to which he would go to save his reputation in the clan... she had no doubt that he would kill the three of them quickly and easily and make it seem like a tragedy, so she did the only thing left to do- she woke the camp with her ear-shattering yowl that saved starling and coldpaw's lives, but ended her own. juniperfang sprang at her and the last thing she knew was her son's fangs sinking into her throat and the cold satisfaction that she would be the last of his victims...

juniperfang killed palebelly too quickly for coldpaw to act, but when he turned to round on starlingpaw, the dark-furred tom felt his body course with anger and blood and adrenaline. he launched himself at his brother and the fight that ensued could be forgotten by nobody- certainly not starlingpaw, and not hazelstar either, as she arrived to see the vacant-eyed tom standing over his brother's body, their blood mixing in the damp ground. in a sense juniperfang had succeeded- coldpaw would never be innocent again. he had killed his own kin, and while the clan and starclan themselves forgave him, he could never forgive himself.

and the anger and strength he had shown scared starlingpaw into something like shock. she could no longer speak to him and feel the warming of her paws and heart without remembering his claws raking into juniperfang's hide, and though he had done it to save her she saw what it had changed him into, and she feared it.

movingon,always-->

he knew what he was...

coldpaw became coldfang in honor of his heroic deed, but the name would haunt him forever. his heart ached for the loss of his love and his mother, but he soldiered on, letting the moons pass, watching as sandpelt grew into a bright, loved warrior of their clan and juniperfang's hate was washed from the forest. that leafbare the clan ate warm, dry fresh-kill, hazelstar passed on, and a new leader was named.

her deputy had been an equally aged tom, black in color, by the name of badgerstep, who led the clan well in the following moons and named starlingrush as his deputy. the clan was overjoyed by her new position, including coldfang. he still felt love for her deep in his heart, and ached to be with her, but with her new position it finalized the impossibility that she could ever love him again. he was forced to move on.

bluepelt bore juniperfang's kits that leafbare as well, three kits. one was male and tabby like his father, ginger, with white paws. bluepelt named him flamekit, and the two light and darker gray she-kits were snowkit and riverkit. leafbare is a hard time for any cat to bear kits, and snowkit was weak to begin with. she died within a few moons of birth, but riverkit and flamekit became riverpaw and flamepaw and were apprenticed.

coldfang was given his first apprentice despite being riverpaw's uncle. he was only juniperfang's half brother as far as anyone knew, so it was hardly wrong to do so. and he was ready for an apprentice, anyway. it was starlingrush who chose riverpaw for him over flamepaw, knowing that the tom's likeness to his father could prove hard for coldfang to nurture him.

however what she did not realize was that riverpaw, though much younger, grew to love her mentor, quite more than anyone had expected. she reminded him so much of starlingrush, and yet he could not accept her feelings for him. he finished mentoring her and distanced himself from the newly named riversong, leaving her to cry to flamepool about the unfairness of it all.

and the sickest thing was that starlingrush was relieved.

she could not keep herself from loving him after all.

..a monster.

crytothestars-->

greenleaf of his 28th moons was the worst season he had ever faced. starlingrush fell suddenly ill, and badgerstar demoted her temporarily. his search for a new deputy found coldfang in starlingrush's place, where he stayed for four long moons as she wasted away, the unknown virus killing her from the inside out.

he went to visit her in the medicine cat's den one duskfall, leaning over her as she slept and watching the rise and fall of her thin reddish-tabby flanks and remembering her nose on his cheek all those moons ago. he barely noticed when she awoke. the deputy was too weak to do more than raise her head, but when she saw him she smiled.

she knew she would be dying very soon after that. she knew her last conversation should rightly be with coldfang. "i love you," she said, with no better way to begin. he only watched her vacantly, his fur blending with the shadows. "i always have."
his only reply was a hoarse, "i know." and he had known, somewhere inside him. he did not see it fair that she would be able to tell him now, as she lay dying. "coldfang, there's no better cat for the job than you. badgerstar will see it." he did not reply. she felt her time running out, her breaths coming harder and harder. he could feel her slipping away but he was powerless to help.

"please," she rasped, "before i die. i just need to know," and she wasn't able to finish that sentence. she wheezed and lay her head back onto the moss. it didn't need saying- coldfang knew what she desired of him. with the most emotion he had ever felt in his life, even including the slaughter of his own brother, he buried his muzzle in the fur of her neck.

"i love you," he assured her, and he felt her last breath leave her body as she lay smiling under the heartless sky.

he felt sure he could never love again. as the night passed and he lay beside her body, he felt sure he had gotten what he deserved. his only question, which he screamed silently to the stars that night, was this:

why did you punish her as well?

neverforgotten-->

coldfang became the deputy of eveningclan and went about his duties as all responsible cats must, even in the wake of starlingrush's death. badgerstar trsuted him deeply, as a brother, and coldfang did his best to live up to the elderly tom's expectations. idea after idea took wing and provided the camp with lookouts and stronger barriers, healthier cats, smarter battle moves. the moons before badgerstar's untimely death were filled with hope for his thriving clan.

it was only natural that starclan take the aged tom after such a bountiful life, wasn't it? the untimely part of it was that it was only then that the identity of sandpelt and coldfang's father was revealed.

badgerstar had never felt the need to explain himself to any cat, but with his son as his deputy he pleaded with starclan to let him live long enough to give his son away.

starclan granted his wish in the strangest of ways- he passed in his sleep one night, leaving coldfang to travel to the moonstone and face his destiny alone.

alone now more than ever...

i need to regain balance, he thought suddenly, though this was not entirely due to his wavering as he climbed the great pine tree. he steadied himself and gazed out onto the territory, the camp that was now his domain. the clan that was now his responsibility. he had strengthened patrols and done all that was needed to scare the clan into respecting him, but he felt their ties with him ripping apart as strongly as if he could see them himself. they need to trust me, he realized with a jolt. starclan help me.

they did, in fact, though their way was strange. he caught a starling and slid back to the ground, searching for a dry place to keep the prey while he hunted other places. a hollow in the pine caught his eye- just the right size, but as he approached a milky scent bombarded his nostrils. kits. he dropped the starling abruptly and poked his shaggy-furred head into the opening, revealing two very young kits. one was a dark tabby and the other was pure white, male and female respectively. they shivered and mewled for warmth and milk, so he scooped them out with a large paw and they curled close to him.

what am i supposed to do? he asked silently, closing his eyes in anguish. he couldn't see how two tiny kits were going to save his bond with his clan. the sleek form of a she-cat filled his mind as starlingrush brushed against him, her red fur glistening with starlight. "coldstar,' she mewed, "think about it. we have given you kits. what more do you need to show the clan how much you truly care for it's wellbeing?" he didn't know, he replied sadly, but she was gone too quickly. he jolted awake as the tomkit swatted his paw at the leader's nose. "alright, fine," he muttered, grabbing each by their scruff. "let's go home."
---
he did not take them into camp, he hid them in a warm enough den of leaves as he closed in on the camp, his eyes searching for two she-cats. rosebloom was a fainlty red-tinted she-cat who was well-loved by the clan and who trusted him enough for his purposes, and his medicine cat, weaselfire. they were what he needed. he ordered them out of camp and herded them to the kits, which weaselfire immidiately began kneading with her small paws. "where did they come from?" she demanded. rosebloom just stared at him.

"i found them at the pine," he replied. after a swallow, he lied, "they're mine." rosebloom shook her head. "i'm not even gonna ask."

he explained that he needed them to keep the Clan's trust in him alive, and weaselfire agreed with him. "i don't see what that has to do with me," rosebloom finally said.

"the clan loves you. i'm not asking you to be my mate- i'm sorry if it offends you, but i don't feel anything like that for you- but if you would just pretend for this one litter, i would be forever greatful and-" she interrupted him.

"i'll do it. i'll pretend."

---

later that evening she la with the kits curled into her belly, beside another queen called leafeyes, who had only one kit. weaselfire padded around the den for a moment and coldstar watched her, his tail flicking and his eyes, as always, vacant. "leafeyes," weaselfire meowed, "rosebloom isn't producing milk." the other she-cat blinked. "I have more than enough milk," she sighed, "i should have had two more, though i suppose starclan meant for me to give life back to rosebloom and coldstar's kits." it came to be that rosebloom let the two kits suckle from leafeyes.

coldstar left the den, glancing for a moment up at silverpelt. thank you, he thought, then licked his fur fat and leaped onto the stone where he would address the clan. "all cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather underneath twisted stone for a clan meeting!" as the clan assembled, he glanced nervously at his sister and licked his lips, preparing to make his speech. the cool wind ruffled his fur and whispered through the tough grasses. " rosebloom has given birth to two healthy kits," he began. there was a collective gasp. rosbeloom had not taken a leave for her prgnancy, so nobody could have known. he waited for them to calm.

"she is fine," he assured them. "our kits did not suffer from her refusal to rest these past moons. their names are molekit and dovekit," he concluded, glancing once again to the stars. the clan was surprised, but he could tell that this rare weak spot of his had brought him into their eyes as a cat like themselves, granted that he had eight more lives than them. he had succeeded.

each life he had recieved was painful and joyful in it's own way- love, protection, stamina, justice, truth, strength, pride, and humility. each one he knew had been important for him, and for the future of eveningclan, and yet he did not wake. one by one his fallen clanmates faded from view- his mother, who had given him protection, his father, who had given him justice, hazelstar, who had given him stamina, snowkit, who had given him truth, an old, battle-scarred white tom, his uncle, who gave him humility, his former mentor, who gave him strength, an older leader named thistlestar, who gave him pride, one of his former denmates who had died of a rogue attack, downfeather, who gave him truth, and finally starlingrush, who gave him love.

in the shadows another cat materialized, a dark she-cat with eyes that shoe like two stars themselves, who padded forward to touch her nose to his forehead. it was not a life she gave, but a warning- "you must be for what is to come. peace has graced the lands at this time, but there is something coming that will take great strength to surpass. only you along with the other leaders can drive away the darkness and free the light. The question is, are you willing to accept your destiny?"

the serious tone and words shocked him- he looked up and opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, but she was gone, and he was alone in the cavern, staring into the light of the moonstone. he swallowed. his destiny? did he have a choice?

--

his return to camp was in the dark of night, but weaselfire had sat by the entrance to her den most of that time, waiting for him to return. she was the only one awake when his paws carried him wearily into camp- he had tried to get back before nightfall and so had not had time to hunt. he was exhausted and confused and suddenly quite cold- he simply nodded a greeting and plucked a fresh enough frog from the pile, tearing into it gracelessly. he barely noticed the tan-furred she-cat settled beside him, at least not until he had buried the prey-ones and licked his lips clean.

"coldstar," she said, and the new name shivered down his spine, "i can feel something terrible approaching, some darkness. did starclan share with you?" he blinked once, debating whether to tell her. well, of course, he had to tell her. but he had theories of his own as to who the cat was and why she had warned him and not weaselfire or the other leaders. for all he knew, the other leaders had been warned, though he doubted it. he looked up to the stars, avoiding her gaze.

"of course they shared with me," he replied,"and they warned me, too."

he proceeded to explain what the dark she-cat had said, still staring vacantly at the open sky, and his companion remained silent as he told. "i don't know what it means," he admitted, "but i don't think the other leaders should be told."

she seemed shocked at his verdict, her fur rising on her neck and spine. "why ever not?" she hissed, meeting his gaze. "she did say that only you and the other leaders could overcome it." he remained unphased by her outburst and shrugged his massive shoulders, flicking his tail. he took his time formulating his answer, watching her fume out of the corner of his eye.

"if it's so important, they'll be warned as well," he replied finally, with an air of nonchalance. to be honest he could care less about the other clans. he simply wanted to survive. he had never asked to lead the clan, but starclan had chosen him, so he would protect them, too, to the best of his ability. but the leader's job wasn't to meddle with the other clans. coldstar planned to stay as unattatched as possible- owing debts to any other clan could prove a fatal flaw if battle should come.

"oh, of course," she replied, her tail lashing from side to side, "unless they told you so that you could bond with the other leaders. but no. it would be foolish to join in help with the other clans. what were starclan thinking?" he could almost taste her sarcasm hanging in the air, but it didn't affect him. he was still too busy thinking up ways to hide from whatever darkness was coming, so that it would leave eveningclan alone to rule the forest. or just to survive. ruling the forest hardly mattered to him, either.

"it would be foolish," he replied absently, voice flat. "there is no need for us to interfere. if the other clans are in danger they will help themselves." she was quiet for a few moments, so he bgean cleaning his fur. it was only when she sighed that he looked up again, slightly surprised since he had expected the conversation to be over.

"is that how you plan to lead this clan? without speaking to any other clan, ever? there are four clans for a reason, coldstar, and i am here to be sure you understand taht the forest is not a free-for-all. it is risk-taking to go to another clan for help, or to help them, but that's part of being a warrior cat. you can't break the code just to serve yourself."

he could see the truth in her words, but it didn't motivate him until he saw what an ally sunsetclan could make. they were the smallest clan but they were strong and proud, warriors that most if not all would want on their side, and because of their size and the fact that the other clans generally avoided them, they could not afford to turn their backs on eveningclan. he met her gaze, seeing the anguish and anger in them for fear he would lead their clan into extinction.

"perhaps you are right, weaselfire," he meowed, standing slowly. "it might be to our- to the forest's benefit if i go see twinklestar tommorow." he could see the relief flood her features, but also suspicion. he could tell that she wondered what had changed his mind so abruptly, but he didn't wish to explain. he flicked her flank with his tail and retreated to his den, his mind still tearing at the shreds of information he had. what was 'the darkness'? could it destroy the forest, or was it benign? should he stop with sunsetclan, or move on?

as the problem turned over in over in his mind, he curled into his new, soft bed of moss that an apprentice had prepared for him and sighed happily. he had a new project, and one that would take some time. he was leader of his clan, and although this was a responsibility his boundaries had widened considerably.

his breathing slowed and he slept, dreaming of a darkness and a faded clan that fought to keep above the water as it rose above their heads.