|
Post by Deleted on Oct 27, 2016 14:19:03 GMT -5
A shiver rippled through the skinny tom as he peeked out of his den. The sun was just barely over the valley, and the grass was still coated in a thin layer of frost. Weaselpaw's short fur did nothing to stifle the chill in the air. Ignoring the way his body protested the cold, he went through his morning routine, cleaning out his bedding and replacing it with fresh moss. By the time he had buried his old bedding and collected fresh moss and relined his small den, the sun had managed to burn through the frost and the air was marginally less chilling.
With a brief thought to the conversation he'd had with Firestar a few days before, Weaselpaw glanced around camp. He didn't see his mentor, though. A small frown tugged at his mouth, but he shrugged it off. Oh well. He turned and left camp, paws finding a familiar path. He originally wanted to meet with Firestar to show her what his solo battles were like, but he would have to settle for just practicing alone.
He stepped into the clearing, thankful to find it empty. Walking in on a training session could have proven a blow to his ego, especially if the mentor invited him in. He didn't need an apprentice completely showing him up with his lack of proper training.
A light sigh left him as he started to stretch, warming up his muscles in preparation. A few minutes later, he was ready, stepping up to the center of the clearing, squaring off against the invisible cat a few tail-lengths across from him. He took a steadying breath, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a determined light, and he flicked his tail sharply once.
He lunged forward. Steps from where his opponent stepped up to meet him, Weaselpaw slipped to the side, turning and raking unsheathed claws down an invisible flank. He spun around quickly, hopping backward out of reach. He dipped low and darted in again, aiming his claws at the cat's paws. He ducked low, dodging a blow aimed at his face. He skittered backward, breathing in sharply through his nose, maintaining his control over his breathing. His eyes narrowed as he stared down his opponent.
A sound behind him caused his ears to perk up and he pivoted, staring down the tall grasses around the clearing. "Who's there?" he called out. His eyes were still narrow, but he wasn't hostile. He wasn't hopeful, either. If it was a cat somewhere behind him, the chances that they'd offer to help were slim. In his experience, cats would laugh and scorn him far more readily than ever offer to help. Fawn
|
|
|
Post by Fawn on Oct 28, 2016 1:41:02 GMT -5
19 MOONS LIGHTNINGCLAN WARRIOR And Harestrike had thought Larkfeather's attacks were lousy. It wasn't that Weaselpaw couldn't defend himself, it was that Harestrike could see the flaws. If you practice a move wrong, doesn't matter if you do it for a hundred sunrises or more - it was still gonna be wrong.
The tabby and white warrior snorted, correcting Weaselpaw's movements as he watched. It was clear that Weaselpaw hadn't had enough proper opponents in his life. Harestrike thought he was pathetic - what kind of a cat was stuck being an apprentice into their 30s? He'd tried to get through with apprenticeship duties as quickly as he could - but even he could recognize determination when he saw it.
Even if it was in a cat as weak and sickly as Weaselpaw.
When the tom spun around, evidently not expecting company, Harestrike waved his tail, and stepped through the tall grasses with a cocky glint in his eyes. "Me." Harestrike's claws flexed, and he sauntered over to take up a battle stance opposite Weaselpaw. "Don't you ever get tired of fighting invisible enemies? Try that dodging move again - I bet I can still strike you."
There was a voice at the back of his mind - some tattered semblance of a conscience, perhaps - acknowledging that Weaselpaw was a Clanmate. Acknowledging that probably a preying mantis could take Weaselpaw in a one on one fight, and a jab at the right place might just kill him. Chh. Not might fault he's weak. Why do I have to go easy on this scrap of fur? He could always claim the 'he's older than me, I thought he could handle it' defense. However... Weaselpaw was still Firestar's apprentice...
Harestrike's gaze flitted briefly to the dark tom's face, and he scoffed, releasing some of the built-in urge to mock those weaker than him. Fine. I won't turn him into rabbit meat. Maybe if he taught the weakling a thing or two, Weaselpaw could put in a good word for Firestar? And then she would finally let him join the next battle patrol.
Word Count: 320 WordsTags: Amber I CAN'T SLOW DOWN, I WON'T BE WAITING FOR YOU Notes: xD I'm sorry he's so mean.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Oct 30, 2016 21:13:20 GMT -5
HE'S GOT LIONS IN HIS HEART, A FIRE IN HIS SOUL HE'S GOT A BEAST IN HIS BELLY THAT'S SO HARD TO CONTROL NOW LIGHT A MATCH, STAND BACK, WATCH HIM EXPLODE "Me."
Weaselpaw's eyes narrowed at the arrogance of the tom's stride. Harestrike strode over, setting himself up across from him before speaking again. "Don't you ever get tired of fighting invisible enemies? Try that dodging move again - I bet I can still strike you." Weaselpaw didn't respond, but the not-so-subtle dig at his technique stung a little.
Instead, Weaselpaw squared up to Harestrike. He didn't know how much he had seen, but he knew better than to attempt the same attack sequence so quickly. Even in training, repetition was dangerous. He paused, taking in a deep breath through his nose.
After a heartbeat, Weaselpaw exhaled sharply through his nose and lunged forward. Just out of striking range, he changed direction, digging his paws into the grass and leaping off to his right. He landed lightly and spun around, darting forward to aim a sheathed paw at Harestrike's side. Throughout the motions, he kept his breathing steady, jaws locked in a closed position. There was no way he was going to let a coughing fit ruin this fight for him. WEASELPAW
|
|
|
Post by Fawn on Oct 30, 2016 21:51:45 GMT -5
19 MOONS LIGHTNINGCLAN WARRIOR His arrogance had gotten the better of him. Harestrike glanced at the small black paw that struck along his flank, an expression of stupefied disbelief lighting up his muzzle for a brief heartbeat. No way. The spin had been a neat trick. Weaselpaw's personally developed fighting moves - they must have been made-up, unless he'd copied someone else's repetoire - had earned him Harestrike's full attention.
Let's see what else you've got. He was willing to bet the fattest rabbit in the moors that Weaselpaw wasn't so good with his footwork, not when an enemy cat was swiping at him and forcing him to retreat. A bit cruelly, Harestrike bared his teeth in a grin that meant bad news (usually) for the cats on the other end, and he swatted at Weaselpaw's ears, alternating blows to keep the tom ducking, wondering if he could make him panic enough that he'd mess up his footwork.
Harestrike was fast. He knew what it was like to train by yourself; it was exilerating, but it was limited in how much he could learn, how much he could push himself - so he had trained with Sunblaze, and he owed a lot to the tiger-striped warrior. Sunblaze hadn't held back, no matter how unfairly matched they'd seemed. It had frustrated him deeply for the first few training sessions, but he had simply sank in his claws, forced down his frustration, and got better.
The tabby and white warrior sneered in his mind. Sometimes you had to fall and fall hard to find out how strong you were. Weaselpaw looked like he'd been knocked down five times over and had just now struggled his way back to the top. What happens if I knock him down again?
Word Count: 289 WordsTags: Amber I CAN'T SLOW DOWN, I WON'T BE WAITING FOR YOU Notes:
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Oct 30, 2016 23:52:33 GMT -5
HE'S GOT LIONS IN HIS HEART, A FIRE IN HIS SOUL HE'S GOT A BEAST IN HIS BELLY THAT'S SO HARD TO CONTROL NOW LIGHT A MATCH, STAND BACK, WATCH HIM EXPLODE A small smile threatened Weaselpaw's sealed jaws at the contact. It'd been a while since he'd fought against an actual opponent, and he was almost surprised that he'd managed to land a hit. Then Harestrike gave a grin that sent a light chill down Weaselpaw's spine and before he knew it, the tabby-and-white tom was on the offensive, pressing forward and aiming blows at his ears.
Weaselpaw found himself ducking, lifting his head only to duck again. He backpedaled quickly, but Harestrike was fast. Every step he took back, Harestrike was there with him, aiming yet another blow at his ears. Between dodging blows and backing up without looking and keeping his breathing stable, Weaselpaw had his paws full trying to focus. As he stepped back and ducked, his hindpaw slipped on an uneven patch of ground. Weaselpaw felt his hindquarters lower as his paw slipped and he froze, tensing his leg muscles in an effort to regain his balance. He didn't have a chance to duck, taking the full force of one of Harestrike's paws against his ear.
Tiny black stars danced across his vision, and he just barely registered another swipe coming in from the other direction. Without much thought, Weaselpaw dropped his entire body to the ground to avoid the blow. Managing to collect his paws, instead of rising, he rolled off to the left before scrambling to his paws and taking a few steps back.
He gave his head a small shake and blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the blow he'd taken. His sides rose and fell rapidly with his increased breathing, but his mouth was still closed; he'd disciplined himself well enough to know that panting could be deadly, especially in a fight. His gold eyes looked up and watched Harestrike warily, taking the brief opportunity to rest and take the next attack on defense rather than offense. WEASELPAW
|
|
|
Post by Fawn on Oct 31, 2016 0:19:10 GMT -5
19 MOONS LIGHTNINGCLAN WARRIOR Harestrike saw the skinny black warrior's sides heaving, and he smirked, folding his haunches into a relaxed sit, running a dampened paw over his muzzle and his whiskers in an act of vanity - and arrogance. To take a grooming break while he was in the middle of a fight was the height of cockiness. Buuuut he could tell that Weaselpaw needed a break.
He looked like he was a heartbeat away from wheezing himself to death. Glancing serruptitiously beyond his opponent, Harestrike saw what looked like Firestar or Redscar crouched at the edge of the clearing, observing their progress. The cat was downwind of them, and Harestrike, whose specialty had never been hunting, gave little thought to scenting to see who it might be. He had nothing to be afraid of; if Firestar was here to watch her apprentice fight, then that was alright with him.
Rising swiftly to all four paws, Harestrike flexed his claws, sliding his front limbs forward and arching his spine until he felt a satisfying pop along the vertebrae, and began to move towards Weaselpaw. "Good roll," he drawled. "Ever rolled under your opponent?" It would be a good technique. If he did it right.
Word Count: 199 WordsTags:Amber Hellion (Firestar mention/cameo)I CAN'T SLOW DOWN, I WON'T BE WAITING FOR YOU Notes:
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Dec 11, 2016 3:49:51 GMT -5
HE'S GOT LIONS IN HIS HEART, A FIRE IN HIS SOUL HE'S GOT A BEAST IN HIS BELLY THAT'S SO HARD TO CONTROL NOW LIGHT A MATCH, STAND BACK, WATCH HIM EXPLODE As he stood trying to regain his breath, his opponent lowered himself to his haunches. Weaselpaw took the sit as a sign that the spar was over for the moment and he allowed his hind end to drop. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Words from Harestrike had his ears pricked forward before he recognized them as praise.
"Good roll. Ever rolled under your opponent?"
Weaselpaw tilted his head to the side in thought. He remained quiet, taking a few extra moments to even out his breathing. When he spoke, it was slow and deliberate, each word carefully thought out. "No, I don't think I have. I do have one move that'll get me beneath an opponent, but it's not a roll, and I've never tested it against another." He looked away, suddenly self-conscious of revealing made-up battle tactics to a tom not known for gentleness. If he tried the move and it failed, Weaselpaw could only imagine the backlash and teasing that would come of it. He suppressed a grimace and turned back to Harestrike.
"Can you show me how to roll?" He tried not to sound too hopeful; after all, there was no reason at all the younger warrior should spend time trying to train him. As much as he hoped for the opportunity to learn, he still felt it highly likely for the other to turn tail and run. So he kept his voice as even as he could, even if there was a slight spark in his eye as he spoke. WEASELPAW
|
|