Lizardtongue was born to Honeytuft and Addersnap during the start of Leaf-Bare--two young, proud warriors of ShadowClan. The queen and tom were close, fiercely loyal to each other and they stood by through fire and famine. They had survived it all and now were blessed with the news that Honeytuft was expecting! It was everything they wanted. One day seeing ShadowClan in all its glory, laying together in the sun as they watched their kits grow…

But their dream was not to be. Addersnap perished during one of the raids in RiverClan, never to meet his unborn kits. The news broke Honeytuft’s heart but the queen remained healthy and strong during her pregnancy, determined to bring their children into the world despite the loss, to see their dream through. As she approached her kitting, the queen abruptly fell very ill, plagued by painful spasms in her belly.

The medicine cats stayed with her throughout the night doing everything they could. By the coming of dawn… only one kit mewled at her side. Honeytuft fought through her pain to meet him, bumping her nose as gently as she could against the small thing’s head. Tears streamed from her honey-colored eyes. “Lizardkit…,” She purred weakly, “He looks just like you my love…”

Though Honeytuft survived the ordeal, she made a full recovery. The young queen became sickly and weak, unable to eat properly. A handful of days later Honeytuft passed, leaving Lizardkit alone. While he had the comfort and care of other queens and kits in the nursery, Lizardkit was never truly bonded with anyone else. He could not understand why the world had taken his mother from him and in his grief the kit found his way to the medicine cat den where the smell of herbs reminded him of his mother. He had taken a single yellow flower and brought it back to her nest.

If Lizardkit was quiet and reserved, Lizardpaw was anything but. He was a terror, a nightmare, and a feisty ball of fur with a fierce temper. He caused plenty of problems, usually with pranks and fights that earned him a few rivals. But what Lizardpaw was most known for was his mouth. He just couldn’t keep it shut to save his life. He always had something to say, even at the worst times when he should be listening.

ShadowClan--his clan--had been through more than its fair share of hardship. It was difficult to forget with the scars burned into the very world around him, the stories told from the elders. The grudges buried in the hearts of some warriors whenever a RiverClan cat walked by during Gatherings. Lizardpaw was no different, he had every reason to hate RiverClan too. When he was finally old enough, the apprentice had been told that his father had been killed by RiverClan and so the young cat then had someone to blame for Honeytuft’s death. Surely, if Addersnap had been there for her, she would have lived… right? Lizardpaw took that fury and used it, thrilled to join the raids and exact his vengeance on the Clan that took his parents from him. He would prove himself, prove that ShadowClan was strong!

As a young warrior, Lizardtongue’s nasty temper and outbursts mellowed by a marginal degree. He’s still very much the troublemaker and all too eager to start shit with other people but he puts his clan before himself. The first to throw himself into a fight to defend the borders, quick to place himself between kits and elders when danger threatens, and refuses to eat unless those who cannot hunt have been fed.

He’s even helpful, known to help apprentices with their duties and, when the tom finds the time, enjoys visiting the medicine cat den to see if the healers require any assistance. Though really there’s more to it than a simple desire to help, the scent of herbs brings him a peace of mind, a rare moment when he feels closest to his mother. Aside from being more engaged in clan activities, Lizardtongue is still a pawful to deal with, he doesn’t like his clan-mates to forget and finds entertainment and joy in teasing them. It’s secretly how he shows his affection. Now other clans and cats? Oh he enjoys taunting the shit out of them. No mercy there with his “new found maturity”. Alas, despite his friendly demeanor to kits and apprentices, Lizardtongue shows no interest in being a mentor. He refuses. His favorite excuse to use is his desire to be free of unneeded responsibility but there is likely more to it. Or he really is just lazy.

The young warrior’s opinions of RiverClan, however, have not waned. Having partook in a slew of raids, Lizardtongue had grown accustomed to the fire that burned in his belly--the ice that turned his blood cold each time he raced into battle against the fish eaters. It was no surprise when Wildstar called for a truce that Lizardtongue bared his fangs at the thought.

A truce. With murderers. Greedy, fish eating weasels. He had loudly protested Wildstar’s judgment, believing that they were turning their backs on all those who had lost their lives fighting for land their clan needed. It was the first time Lizardtongue questioned himself. His loyalty. He loved ShadowClan, they were all he had, wouldn’t his father have wanted him to continue fighting? Or was Wildstar right? Lizardtongue didn’t know. He couldn’t give up the hate in his heart. He wished for the millionth time that his mother was here, her warmth, her love, her patience. He could barely remember it now. Would she have wanted this?