This is just a little story that came to me. Tell me if you want me to continue or not or something.
There were four of us. All she-cats, the only of our litters. Our names were Palekit, Dawnkit, Cedarkit, and finally me. Jumpkit. Funny name right? My mother named me after how I would "jump" in her stomach when she was carrying me. I was the brave one, the one who talked back to warriors and got caught trying to sneak out of camp most often. I was the one who warriors laughed about. I was the one who was going to be leader someday. As we grew, and became apprentices, Palepaw showed an innate ability to hunt. Nothing got past her, and she was the one who brought back the most prey. Dawnpaw was the fighter, she could win against the most battle-hardened rouge, even as an apprentice. Cedarpaw became the medicine cat apprentice, and healed warriors. All were good, great even, at what they did. Me? What did I do? I wasn't anything. I was never last, but never first. Not good enough to warrant excessive praise, not bad enough to prompt extra tutoring. Just, there. That was me. Oh, occasionally I would catch a rabbit or something in a spectacular way, maybe get a good blow in during training, something to make my mentor's eyes spark with hope that I was just a late bloomer, that I was finally showing my skills as that bright little kit, prancing across the camp, doing nothing but dancing with the wind and catching leaves in the clumsy kit way.
"Jumppaw!" My ears pricked as Falconbreeze, my mentor called me from the clearing which we were delegated to start from, it was a hunting assessment. Palepaw sat there, with her little pile of fresh-kill, Dawnpaw sat there with Hailpaw-one of the other apprentices and chatted. Cedarpaw looked uncomfortable with her bird, blood staining her muzzle. I was hiding, just about to pounce on a fat squirrel, but the loud call made it start. Leaping, I caught it with my claws, leaving long scratches down its back and finished it with a bite to the neck.
"Coming!" I dug up my sparrow that I caught before and trotted out of the brush, my catch hanging from my mouth.
Falconbreeze snorted, waving his tail in annoyance when he saw my messy catch.
"Come on Jumppaw." I followed the cream and brown tom back to camp, and putting my catch down on the pile and quietly retiring to the apprentices den, the days shame just piling on. Never good enough, never fast enough, never strong enough, never big enough.
"Jumppaw?" Palepaw drew my attention back to the conversation. We had just had our final assessment, and we were all tired. "Staring at Elmpaw again?"
The others purred while I stuttered and tried to form a cohesive answer.
"It's okay." Dawnpaw purred. "He likes you too."
My fur grew hot at the thought of the handsome pale brown tom liking me. Me! My pelt was an ugly patchwork of black, white and grey. The only tortoiseshell in the group, and one of a pawful in the entire Clans, I was self-conscious of my pelt. Why couldn't I have been born with a creamy grey pelt like Palepaw? Or the elegant earth-brown of Dawnpaw, with her white paws always meticulously clean. StarClan, even Cedarpaw's black and brown patches would have been an improvement!
Our warrior ceremony was nothing big, Palepaw becoming Palefrost, Dawnpaw Dawnstrike. Cedarpaw had become Cedardusk the day before. Hailpaw was now Hailspots and Elmpaw, Elmpaw was Elmfoot. My name was Jumpstorm. At least it wasn't something like Jumpleap. That would have been embarrassing.
Time passed, battles were fought. Things changed. Elmfoot and I slowly drew closer and queens hinted at kits. Dawnstrike had an apprentice. Palefrost was a revered hunter now, even more so once she caught a whole family of rabbits over the course of the day, stalking their tunnel. Me? I drifted away, closer to Elmfoot and no one other. I was the one with no defining skills still. Elmfoot was a rising candidate for deputy. I gradually drew away from him, although we continued to love each other, we agreed that it was for the best. He eventually fell for Roseheart, a ginger she-cat with no morals and many toms after her.
"Jumpstorm?" It was Palefrost. "Jumpstorm, you're spacing out again."
"Sorry." I blinked myself out of my thoughts, focusing on the conversation happening in the clearing. Palefrost, Dawnstrike, Cedardusk and Hailspots looked at me expectantly. "What?"
"What did you do over the past moon?" Cedardusk asked me patiently. "We all did stuff we're proud of."
"Eh. Nothing." I shrugged my shoulders, the tri-colored fur rippling.
"It's Elmfoot isn't it?" Hailspots pushed, her blue eyes kind. "It's not your fault, he's just being a mouse brain! You're a wonderful cat-"
"That's not why we fell apart!" My temper exploded, I was so done with having things assumed about me! "We agreed that it was for the best! Stop talking to me and actually listen to what I'm trying to tell you!"
"Then you should talk more!" Dawnstrike looked horrified at the harsh words that erupted out of her mouth. That was the final straw.
"Well maybe I'm not talking because I don't care about looking the best, being the best, what Sunfeather has done today, how Palefrost caught more prey that her previous record! I am afraid I may have said more things, most of which I regret. Spinning around, I stalked off into the bushes. I broke into a run, and didn't stop until I crossed out of the familiar ThunderClan scent marks. Standing on the ThunderPath edge, I hesitated, only to push aside my fears and race forwards, leaving some of my fur and blood behind on some shattered...clear stuff. I reached the Twolegplace border and stopped. Chest heaving, I panted, struggling to catch my breath.
"Hey!" I whirled, claws out, ready to attack the cat who spoke, only to look down and see a self-important little kittypet scowling at me. "Get your matted fur our of my way!"
"You get your tiny pelt out of mine and maybe I'll spare your life!" I hissed back.
"Like you could do anything to the great Ronaldo!" The tom bragged.
I am not ashamed to admit that I killed him. He was the first of many cats in the Twolegplace. James, Heath, Rosie, Petal, their names blurred together, some arrogant and condescending, others simply trying to tell me that there was a killer on the loose. Kits were my favorite to kill. So sweet and innocent, they didn't know enough to scream. Eventually a familiar feeling began to creep up on me. It was a feeling of stifling imprisonment. I felt a longing, a longing to re-enter the forest I had once left. I had wandered up to the scent line more than once, my paws carrying me along a familiar path. Eventually, I could no longer bare it, and slipped back into the forest. Wandering the forest, paws sliding soundlessly over dead leaves and bounding over rocks.
"Excuse me." A polite mew interrupted my thoughts and I spun, reflecting wryly on how it had all begun. Standing before me was a small tom, ginger and pale brown, amber eyes shining at me. For a moment, I was standing back on front of a similar tom- sans the ginger.
"Elmfoot?" I whispered. The tom smiled at me.
"That's my father!" He mewed cheerfully. "I'm Jumppaw, the medicine cat apprentice!"
"Jumppaw?"
He nodded.
"Roseheart didn't want to name me that, but Elmfoot insisted. Something about lost destinies and hearts...maybe something about a storm? It makes Cedardusk really sad, that story."
He didn't notice as I crept closer, until I pounced and bowled him over.
"Don't tell anyone you saw me and I'll spare your life." I hissed at him. His eyes dilated and Jumppaw nodded quickly. "Go back to camp, ask Elmfoot about that story. Then come back here. I'll find you."
"But how will I find you?" His whisper nearly made me flinch. He sounded so much like Elmfoot!
"I'll find you." Releasing him, I melted back into the leaves. Returning to the Twolegplace nest I had made, I curled up. There was an unfamiliar feeling in my chest. Remorse. Finally letting years of despair out, I wailed my anger and frustration out into the darkening sky. I had left the world I needed. I was finally the best. The best betrayer. The best at failing. The best at killing. That little kit dancing in the wind was gone, and a cat who cried into it remained. My name is Jumpstorm and I am the only cat I know who killed themselves.