Lostheart

An extreamly thin, dark gray tom with white spots and a long, back stripe streaching from his back to tail tip.

Additional Info
This is an RP post from Icerose's piont of view. It explains Lostheart's past and his current state of well-being (Whitch is not very good):

I padded back inside my den. There lay Lostheart. He was a tom about my age. He was a gray tom with white spots and a long, black stripe of fur goig down his back and tail. He had bright blue eyes which always looked so happy, but it was obivouse that it was nothing but a mask to hide his inner sadness. He was the only son of Willowberry and a rogue. They were secret lovers, meeting only in the faint moonlight of the night. When Willowberry was expecting his kits, he left her for another cat. This infuriated Willowberry so much, that she named her son Lostkit, a cruel reminder the feeling that she felt every day and night afterwards. After he was born, Willowberry was found dead, her body in a river. She had drowned herself. When Lostheart and I were kits, he told me how he wanted to become a great warrior, and maybe even a leader one day. Then Sharkfang and Ivyleaf would come along and start to pelt him with stones. "Filthy half-clan" they would call him. But he was a good, strong cat, and did not left thoes fools damped his dreams. When we were six moons old, he chose the path of a warrior, and I the medicine cat. He told me not to become the medicine cat apprentice, for what reason I don't know. I told him it was my destiny, what I felt my life was made for. He was hurt badly in a battle with foxes. Our leader gave him a dieing apprentice name, so he may go to StarClan as a warrior. His new name was Lostheart, and even he seemed not to mind it, I know it troubled him. I was able to save him from death, and my mentor gave me my full name of Icerose. Lostheart always had a scar streaking across his chest whitch failed to heal even with the most powerful medicines. He never became a "true warrior" as he calls it. But he always will be to me. He stayed in the elders den, for he was too weak after his attack to aid his clan any longer. Now he had contracted some illness that I have never seen before. He looked up at me, blue eyes gleaming and his face smiling. I smiled back, but I could not help but feel sad. He always knew that I was worried for him. He often told me that he was O.K and I could go out and do something else. But I was too afraid to leave him, scared that he would be struck by a storm of coughing, or something worse. I gave him some herbs, but they never seemed to help him. I sighed.