kithood

Violetkit was safe, protected, and loved more than anything. She felt as if she were destined for something special - and her eyes proved it! The rest of her litter had green eyes except for her one yellow! But day by day, her specialness waned. She was overshadowed by her roudy, needy littermates. And she let it happen. She spent more and more time hiding under her father's paws, wondering if her special destiny was ever real. If it was truly meant for her, why was it so hard to take the spotlight again?

apprenticeship

Apprenticeship was another chance to try again. Violetpaw tried to stand out from the others by doing more. She did the most chores, impressed her mentor with her climbing, snuck out with Timberpaw and Rookpaw to explore other places. But none of her achievements seemed to stick. She was a perfectly average child to both peers and adults. Her defeatest mindset as a kit turned into frustration she never allowed others to see.

When Sweetfawn and Leaftrail died, she attended their funeral along with the rest of her family. As much as she mourned her siblings, a part of her wondered whether she'd finally have an easier time sticking out. She shoved those feelings as far down as possible.

warriorhood

She was livid when Battlestar first named her Violethop after her dad. It felt like she was being overshadowed once again. She tried to live with it for a few moons, but every utterance was a reminder. Combine that with the loss of more siblings - Pouncekit, Cicadaflicker, Mosscreek - and her mind was a mess. A mix of grief, anger, awful satisfaction, and the question of why she couldn't just drop her old dream. Being special couldn't be worth all this death.

She changed her name to Violethawk. Settled in a comfortable rhythm of helping others with mental or relationship problems. Thought about kits. Found love in a cat named Rowanbranch. Did all of this with the intention of settling into normality, but each step taunted her. Her name change made her stand out from her father, helping others put her name in their mouths, kits were cats that could never forget her, and Rowanbranch was a senior warrior - everyone knew him, and now by extention, her. Her old dream stuck to her paws like honey, dragging her down no matter how hard she tried to be rid of it.

Then her father - her old namesake and lookalike - died. The grief was enormous. The satisfaction loomed. Rowanbranch never left her side, and she hated the sick part of her that was convinced her destiny was finally approaching.