Mintflower was originally known as just 'My kit' or 'My love' or some other term of endearment by her mother and father, two kittypets from the city. She was never given a name of her own by them, or by her twoleg.   But young Mint, as we'll call her, was not living the luxurious life of most kittypets. Instead, she was apart of something much more sinister. Her parents had failed at the one job their twoleg had entrusted them with. 'Birth a litter of healthy kits to be sold on in the hopes of making a profit off of them'. But Mint had been the only surviving kit out of a litter of 5, and her twoleg made it clear that she was worth nothing more than the dirt on his shoe. She was mistreated in more ways than she'd feel comfortable recalling, some more unbearable than others. The worse, for her, was the days her twoleg would keep her stored in a cold, damp, dark crate with the malice intent of keeping her separated from her beloved mother. She'd cry out for her mother, but she would never respond. As the weeks went by, and little Mint began to grow, she realized how "My kit", "My love," had turned to "Her",  "it" or, the very worst one being "That thing". Little Mint tried her best to pretend her mother and father still loved her, but deep down she knew they believed it was her fault. Their mistreatment was down to her; why couldn't one of her brothers have survived? At least they had were worth something. She certainly wasn't. Now, the mistreatment was not just from her twoleg, but also from her own mother and father. She had to escape. And one day, she did. This tiny little runt was almost grateful that her small size allowed her to fit through the gap in the shed (of sorts), allowing her access to the outside world. It was raining that day she got her first taste of freedom; she'd never even felt the rain, or grass, or heard birds singing. Everything was so new and wonderful, and perfect. But, Mint was a small runt in a world full of dangers she couldn't even begin to imagine - let alone comprehend, or face. Not to mention, she was a 4 moon old kit with no access to food. She would starve if she didn't find somewhere soon.

So she began walking. To where? She didn't know. But the forest beyond the twoleg place seemed to beckon her, as though it were calling out her non-existent name. It felt like she had been walking for days, her stubby legs no longer able to hold up her small weight as she collapsed beside what she could only describe as a "big puddle of rain"; A river. She had stumbled across Riverclan's territory by mistake, a whole new life awaiting her beyond the river. It didn't take long for a morning patrol to find her, a much larger cat expressing a phrase she holds very close to her heart; "It's okay, little one, you're safe now. You're home." Home? Mint didn't even know what that word meant, but the way the warrior said it, his voice filled with kindness and love, made Mint want a "home" right away!

Splashdrift, a sweet and patient queen, took her in and introduced her to a world she could only dream of. It was Splashdrift that explained to her what a home was, telling the newly-named Oceankit that Riverclan was her home. Oceankit believed her at first, lulled into this belief that Riverclan was this perfect clan made up of perfect cats. But it wasn't, and young Oceankit quickly realized this. The bullying started mere weeks after she'd first joined Riverclan, vile insults leaving the mouths of apprentices and kits alike who seemed to despise her for her heritage. She was a kittypet; useless, pathetic, weak and cowardly. Even then, those words were some of the less horrific ones. The bullying continued into her apprenticeship, and although she was gifted with a semi-accepting mentor, Oceanpaw couldn't help but let the bullying get to her. Fear evolved into anxiety, the disorder holding onto Oceanpaw with a vice-like grip - her anxiety telling her that the medicine cat wouldn't care, that they would tell her to deal with it on her own. To this day that's what Oceanpaw has done, and it's what she plans to continue doing. Dealing with it best she can, without burdening anyone with her nonsensical problems.