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Startear

Name: Cone (Nicknamed Moodkiller)

Gender: Female

Birth-tribe: Wolfriders (Skyfire's time)

Parents: Sprig and Nightdancer.

Age: 28

Appearance: Grey eyes, with brown shaggy hair. Wears it in a ponytail to keep it away from her face. Ironically, it usually falls out. Little on the tall side for a full wolfrider. Strong runner, as she hasn't had a wolfriend in a few years. A few scars on her shoulder, usually hidden by her clothing.

Attire: Long sleeved green shirt. Fur vest on top of it when temperatures drop in the summer. Buckskin trousers.

Weapons: Bow is her forte, but carries a knife made of flint, in case she needs to cut strips of meat or finish a job.

Role: Huntress

Skills: Average at sending. Skilled archer, average tracking and good runner.

Personality: Used to be a fairly cheerful elf, rather curious of life. Little on the slow side in wits, she rarely told either the High Ones or the ones arguing against them off, despite thinking both could be rather ridiculous.

After the death of a wolfriend she was quite heartbroken. Grieving quite longer than what most Wolfriders do after loss of a wolfriend, she turned snappish and was often in a silent, yet grumbling mood. She often takes this out on others, and feels pleasure when she ruins other's days. Thus, she has been nicknamed Moodkiller behind her back.

Background: Cone was the second child between Sprig and Nightdancer. was a curious child, always exploring the trees and heights when she had done the useful things. Thus, she was named Cone. Didn't bond with a wolfriend before she was ten summers old. He was low ranking wolf called Rill. Both of them usually found the chase a lot more fun than the actual catch.

When Cone was twenty five, her wolfriend stepped into a rabbit hole, and fell. The fall surprised both wolf and rider, throwing his rider off. Rill broke his leg and neck. Cone merely scraped her shoulder. Taking the pelt was a tradition even then, and she did so. Proved to not be so smart. Her den smelled like her deceased but dear friend. She tried to launch her grief into hunting, but without a wolfriend, she often had to either ride behind another, or run. Of course, Cone grew stronger and a better runner, but still, everywhere she went, something reminded her of her friend.

Grieving longer than what was considered normal; a few grew annoyed by her depressed mood. Thus, a few verbal spars happened between her and others. Her mood grew sour, taking out resentment and unfairness out on others. She even took great pleasure when it worked, despite all it has ended with was verbal and physical spars, hurt feeling and sour moods. Has been reprimanded often by her mother and the chief. Has been called Moodkiller behind her back, mostly by the tribe's cubs.

Fanfics: None as of yet.

Dolls or other images: