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Fickleheart is a fairly small tortoiseshell tom. He is a mottled black, brown and ginger. His fur is thick, like most of Windclan, to protect himself from the whistling winds. His is thin and wiry, and can run fast. His tail is long and it fluff's out at the tip. His eyes are of the golden shade. He has a scar that is on his neck that makes his voice very quiet and raspy because the wound was deep. His claws are very sharp and his left prominent fang is broken in half.

Fickleheart is a tom with an incredibly outgoing and wild personality. He can seem very unserious and hyperactive at even the most serious of moments and this can be a nuisance to other cats. He loves to show off, especially to kits, apprentices and majorly to the she-cats. He values his pride and his strength. On the outside he acts like a loon but on the inside he is in a world of pain an despair for his lost family. He has a ding in his pride because of the scar on his neck that forces his voice to be quieter than most cats. He enjoys kits and apprentices, because as said before he likes to show off. He wishes he could have a kit but being a tortoiseshell tom makes this impossible for him.

Fickleheart was born in Windclan. It was a very stormy night during the birth, and his father had been out hunting and caught in the storm. A tree branch near the Thunderclan border struck and killed him on impact. It appeared to Fickleheart's mother that his father, Nativebrush, had died on the exact moment one of her kits was born. She was enraged, and she named the kit Doomkit for she was sure that he had caused Nativebrush's death. Hollyreign, his mother, hated Doomkit within every inch of her life. She never treated him with the kindness she treated Fickleheart, she would not let him curl up with her unless cats were around to see. Fickleheart grew closer to Doomkit every day. He refused to let his mother drive out his brother, his protectiveness grew every day. Soon he would leave his mother to sleep with Doomkit in the night.
On the night before the two cat's were to be apprenticed Hollyreign awoke Doomkit. She told him a lie, she told him she loved him and would like to take him somplace so she could make up all the moons of hatred. Fickleheart felt this was an unlikely prospect but it was a dream come true for his brother. Hollyreign left the camp. Wailing that his mother had chased a rogue who had taken Doomkit he rallied up the cats in the Clan. They followed her scent to the gorge but it was too late. Doomkit was screeching at her paws and when she saw the patrol coming she hurled to poor kit into the gorge. He did not survive.
The leader was outraged, but no cat's rage was so blind as Fickleheart's. He rushed his mother and attacked her head on. She slit his throat before the warriors could pull her off of him, and he barely survived the attack. He was not made into an apprentice until several moons. His mother was kept as a prisoner in the Elders den. She is heavily sedated with poppyseeds.
Denial swamped at him to the point that he nearly went insane, he found himself speaking to his brother during his apprenticeship. He was deeply convinced that the tom still followed him. His mentor, a she-cat who had been Nativebrush's close friend named Shadedjay, felt very worried for Fickleheart. She tried to show him the joys of life during his training. Slowly the emotional trauma left him and he became a warrior with a hyper active attitude.

Ficklekit felt his brother shift besides him. The scent of his mother entered his nose and he blinked into awareness. She was looking at Doomkit with a tenderness he had never seen her use with him. "Doomkit darling wake up."

Doomkit's eyes were opened wide. He looked to Ficklekit with surprise. Ficklekit felt a feeling of cold dread that he could not place prickle at his pelt.

"Darling, I am so proud of you. Both of you. But I need to apologize, you are my kit and I should have loved you with all my heart. I can never be forgiven for the time that has passed with my cruelty, but perhaps we could go for a walk, for one last time?"

Then they left. Ficklekit trembled, his whiskers itched and in the back of his head he knew his mother had been lying. He sprang to his paws and woke up the queen with a wild cry, "Mother and Doomkit are gone! I think she chased a rogue out of camp!" There was an uproar, and in moments he was leaving camp after the warriors. They were to intent on the path ahead and by the time they noticed the following kit it was too late to send him back on his own. Besides they'd already reached the gorge...

Ficklekit saw his mother, standing over Doomkit. The love in her voice was gone, she was screeching at him, "My Nativebrush is gone, because of you! You monster! You want to kill the whole clan, and Ficklekit! And leave me, so that I must suffer with you!"

"No! That's not it!" Doomkit screeched, he darted to get around her, to the safety of his clanmates.

"Hollyreign no!" A warrior yowled, the Queen's eyes flashed and she scooped Doomkit into her jaws.

"Stay back!" She cried, her mouth muffled by the heavy kit in her mouth. "This must be done!" Then with a flick of her head he was gone. For a moment Doomkit seemed weightless. It seemed he would fly over the gorge, but then he plummeted. A shrieking cry that was cut off when he hit the rocking side of the cliff. One of the other Queens ran down the other side to search for him. Ficklekit was dimly aware of the Leader snarling and trembling with rage at his side. He did not care, with paws that seemed to have wings he leapt at his mother. She whirled to meet him and pinned him down as easily as a mouse. Then her claws were at his neck. Pain exploded in his throat and he gagged as the blood seemed to fill his very airway. Some cat knocked her off of him but he could not tell which. He just remembered the soft scent of herbs and the whisperings of, "Hang on Ficklekit, just hold on..." Then his whole world went black.

It IS possible for a cat to abuse kittens. For one Hollyreign was driven insane with grief, and for two cat's have been known to refuse to suckle or care for certain kittens. Some cats even kill their babies.