Brownfeather is angry and hurt. She's quiet and tends to keep to herself, but she's not shy or reserved in the least. While she's a cat of few words — especially around cats she doesn't know too well — she has a short temper that will cause her to snap and lash out if she gets angry; which, incidentally, happens a lot. She lives an emotional life and gets flustered easily, and also develops crushes on nearly everyone she passes by, causing her to be broken-hearted often (less so, now, because she’s always brokenhearted and is missing her mate — though, five-minute-crushes where she spots someone pretty and wonders what if aren’t out of the question… which tends to only make her feel worse). She'd be able to hold a grudge for the rest of her life (and rest assured, she is) and never forgives a trespass. Brownfeather gets attached to physical things easily and hates to part from them.

Pretty things are her kryptonite, as she will want to salvage them and keep them to herself, never letting anyone else touch them. She's built up walls around herself and does her best to make it hard for others to get close to her, but usually fails. If someone gives her something that she deems pretty, for example, then they're instantly closer to her. Brownfeather is cold and harsh, but once a cat gets close to her she proves to be soft and a bit loving — not necessarily in a romantic way, though, as she is more than happy to spend days lazing around with friends for no other reason than she thought they needed the support. Despite her age, she has been through things that most older cats haven't and is determined not to let it affect her, even though it clearly has. There are times when she wonders if she's gotten traumatized by her past experiences, but she throws those worries to the wayside and continues working on her own goals. She often can't stand to be touched, and will only allow for a few cats to do so (and that's only when they grow suitably close to her) but she hates this quality and tries to fight it. However, to bypass this trait of hers, all one needs to do is ask and get her approval beforehand. She tries her best to hide as much of her old self as possible (teasing, reckless, slightly mean sister that terrorized her brother, curious), and while she usually succeeds there are times when old parts of her slip out. When she gets angry she can become reckless, when she gets close to another she can become teasing and slip back into her sisterly persona. During these times, she will hide away from the person who saw that side of her for the rest of the day; or moon, it depends.

One thing that she's not ashamed of, or bothers to change, is how curious she is. While she won't ask questions, she's willing to put herself in danger to find something out, and doesn't care much about the consequences she might receive afterward.

At least… this is how she is usually, or if you happen to catch her in a good mood.

In the wake of the White Death, Brownfeather has been angry and depressed in turns, snapping at just about everyone if they catch her at the wrong time with the only exception being her surviving kit, Fuzzykit. She lost her mate and her son and can’t help but blame herself for both, feeling as if she’s been cursed by some higher power, perhaps ever since she was a kit. She does her best to keep up a strong front — her daughter still needs her, after all — but it’s hard.

So hard that she doesn’t know how she manages, some days.

She’s become a bit of a recluse in recent days, sticking to the nursery and camp, focusing her energy on being a monarch instead of warrior duties, as she’d done before the White Death.

She’ll get back to it. She knows her Clan needs her, and she’s still willing to serve them, even after everything.

Just not right now.

Born as a rogue to a molly named Soil, Ground and Mulch were inseparable as kits. They played together, ate together, tried to groom each other, did everything together. They were each other’s best friend, and Soil was happy to care for them.

Then, when they were two moons old, Mulch got killed by a fox when they snuck out while their mother slept.

And Soil changed.

She stopped feeding Ground nearly as much as she used to and wasn’t averse to using physical violence on her daughter, though it was far less common than just insulting or belittling her. Most often, Soil said that Ground should have died instead of Mulch.

Ground got tired of this quickly and left.

Not seeing the need to keep anything that Soil gave her, she got rid of her name entirely and began to teach herself how to hunt. It was a struggle to learn, especially with her small size, but she figured it out eventually. S1he missed more often than not still, but over the course of a few moons she began to earn herself a meal a day.

When she was six moons old, she trespassed on RiftClan territory. The patrol that found her wasn’t happy to see a kit stealing their prey and took her back to camp, where she met Pinefern. At the time, she was one of RiftClan’s lead warriors and was able to convince her leader and deputy to let her stay with them, at least for a little while. She started to become friends with some of the apprentices, particularly Shadepaw and Larkpaw, and Pinefern would often take time out of her day to share a meal with her or just talk to her.

A moon later, she asked to join the Clan.

She was accepted into the fold, becoming Brownpaw. Pinefern was the loudest voice in the crowd during her ceremony and loved to hear about how her training was going: she loved to train alongside Shadepaw and Larkpaw, she’d finally picked up a proper hunting crouch, fishing was weird but the rewards were good. At her first Gathering, she met LochClan’s advisor apprentice Rainpaw, who quickly became a close friend as well.

A few moons after she was apprenticed, Pinefern asked to formally adopt her. Brownpaw was surprised that she would even want to — she’d heard all about what an awful daughter she was from Soil — but it was a surprised kind of happy, so she accepted.

She earned the warrior name Brownfeather and began to spend more and more time with Shadepaw, now Shademask. Within a few season cycles of her earning her true name, they were mates, but Brownfeather was reluctant to move much further: Shademask wanted kits, and she wanted kits, but she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself to not act like her biological mother if something happened. Shademask assured her that she wouldn’t, that she’d be far more like her adoptive mother if anything, but the fear was still there and she still hesitated.

It wasn’t until Pinefern died a peaceful elder’s death that she decided she was ready: past ready, actually, because she’d wanted her mother to meet her kits, but that would never happen now, and it was best not to delay any longer in case her children would miss out on meeting anyone else important to her.

A year and a half later, they were successful in expanding their family, giving birth to a tom and a molly. The leafbare they were born into was a harsh one, but her kits wouldn’t be the only ones in the nursery and she knew how the Clans took care of their young, so she was confident that they would be fine no matter what happened. The tom Brownfeather named Mulchkit, after her brother, and Shademask suggested Fuzzykit for the molly. Brownfeather turned him down at first, demanding that he come up with a better name, but before he could she was introducing her to Larkwing as Fuzzykit.

A moon later, the White Death happened.

Shademask died.

So did Mulchkit.

And Brownfeather felt like she had done it.

Sure, Shademask could have been an unfortunate happenstance, but Mulchkit was the one she’d named after her brother who’d died too young, she had been the one to do that, and—

She can only hope that Pinefern is looking after him, now.