In a family of eagles, hawks and swans, Redfeather has always been a duckling. Fluffy, soft, and ugly, everything his relatives have never been. He'd hoped to escape the legacy, as an apprentice. He was only Redpaw, then, after all. The world of warriordom had held so much promise. Often, he does not think his mother pondered the choice of his name at great length. Heronpaw and Hawkpaw had already been cemented into the dynasty. It took Redfeather a while longer, but make no mistake, he's part of it now. The weak, effeminate link. The unseen, hidden in the shadows, just to make sure they rarely remember he's part of their little clan at all. Redfeather, too, can be faulted for forgetting.