When she first joined ThunderClan, she expected a warm welcome as the other cats recognized her desire to be a loyal ThunderClan warrior. Instead she receives blank stares with a few reluctant cheers mixed in. She blinks and tells herself that the others will warm up to her eventually once she demonstrates her talents in hunting and fighting.
After her first moon as a clan member, she cannot help but notice a few small things: she is always chosen for the dawn patrol, she always gets the worst sleeping spots and the least choice piece of fresh-kill. She brushes these occurrences off, dismissing them as coincidences, and convinces herself that things will change once the other cats start to respect her.
Her situation worsens as the blank stares change to hostile glares, and she often finds herself solo on hunting patrols. When other cats do come with her, they constantly point out flaws in her technique and give her corrections. When on other patrols the other members of her patrol start to laugh mockingly, she realizes they have been giving her fake advice in order to make her seem incompetent. They criticize her more than they do their own apprentices, they treat her like she's useless and worthless, and they shun her from all of their conversations. She tries to be patient and prove her loyalty and skill, but despite all her optimism she feels a sharp sting of hurt with each barbed comment.
She doesn't understand why they do not want in their Clan; she tries as hard as she can to receive their approval, but nothing she does is ever good enough.
The leader of ThunderClan is one of the few that refuses to doubt her loyalty, and after she has been part of the clan for two seasons she is appointed an apprentice. She feels a glow of pride at this public show of trust, and vows to make her new apprentice into the best warrior ThunderClan has ever seen. Better yet, her apprentice is one of the few cats in the clan that doesn't hate her simply because of where she came from. Her newfound confidence falters when she sees the parents of her new apprentice glaring at her, their eyes full of hatred and disgust. She forces herself to meet their gazes without flinching, but her heart breaks a little more at their reactions.
A public show of trust is a mistake, it turns out, because it simply means the other warriors have to become sneakier in order to torment her. She's given up on her optimism because the other cats have made it obvious that they hate her. She comes back from "practice" fighting scratched and bruised and sore, because the other cats "accidentally" unsheathed their claws. She wakes up to thorns in her nest and burrs in her fur, and she's lucky to get a scrap of fresh-kill unless she catches it herself.
She gives up her faith in the StarClan that the others have told her about when the other cats begin to tease her apprentice as well; there is no possible way such cruel cats could have kind, wise warrior ancestors. Still, she and her apprentice struggle on to try to prove their loyalty to cats that they are unsure ever deserved any loyalty in the first place.
Another moon passes and she no longer feels safe to sleep in the warriors den, so she finds a small hollow near the warriors' den and moves her nest instead. It's cold and lonely for a cat that is used to sleeping among others, but she feels safer.
She wonders why the other cats don't just kill her outright, or at least create some kind of crime they can have her exiled for. After all, it's no secret that they want her gone. The answer comes to her one night in her sorry excuse for a den; they want to toy with their victim before they finish her off.
Deserted by her few friends, she is no longer safe in camp. On patrols she finds herself constantly glancing behind her, keeping alert in case her clanmates turn on her.
Her apprentice is found, murdered in a pool of blood by the WindClan border. She knows exactly what has happened, but she doesn't dare open her mouth to tell the truth. Despite the death having been blamed on a WindClan patrol, the suspicious eyes of her clanmates rake her pelt as she leaves the camp to hunt. Their stares hurt worse than any battle wound she's ever received. She cannot bear to see the angry eyes of her late apprentice's parents or the hostile glares of her former friends any longer. Even her leader is looking at her, his eyes full of suspicion and disappointment. As she leaves, one of her tormenters stalks over to her to whisper in her ear. "You're next," he breathes, a vicious glint in his eyes.
She never returns from that hunting patrol. She runs as far as she can as fast as she can until, finally, she feels safe. Following the river, she reaches a large twolegplace next to a gorge. She vows to never return to the clans again as long as she lives.
Eventually she settles down with a mate, and they have a kit together. As the sun shines brightly down on her, illuminating the kit's yellow eyes and tortoiseshell coat, she feels so happy she could burst. "Sol," she murmurs, gazing at the blazing midday sun. "I'll call you Sol."