Post by williams on Mar 12, 2019 20:57:45 GMT -5
[in response to will's hiatus, a nifty plot choice for our long-suffering nightclan]
"Up we get," Briarthroat called to his apprentice, voice breaking the quiet of the morning. "We have a Northern border to check, Charredpaw." was the reply to her grumble. Charredpaw knew they were assigned on this early patrol, but it didn't stop the annoyance of a flipped sleeping schedule making her paw steps slow. The deputy let her set the pace to the other cats waiting by the entrance, stretching his own muscles that were still sore from their trek yesterday. The cats looked as enthused as he felt at doing an early day patrol. All this early morning territory walking is making me feel my age! he thought with a tired internal sigh as he nodded and led the way out.
The increased patrols on the Treeclan border, he could see as the group walked, were wearing them out. It was necessary in the couple moons after taking back the border, but Briarthroat wondered if the traditional routine really worked. Lionstar already planned to push the border again; his speech at the gathering eluded to such an attempt. Perhaps, the deputy wondered, if their time would be better spent training. He glanced over at his apprentice, dutifully keeping pace though each paw dragged through the dirt. Maybe I'll have her and Nettleheart practice battle techniques tomorrow instead.
"How about we battle train tomorrow, stretch those muscles we've been building by the long walks." Briarthroat suggested, earning a half-hearted shrug, followed by an unfortunately familiar bitterness.
"Just us? Or will Nettleheart be there?" He felt a frown twist the corners of his mouth.
"It can be just us if you'd like." His apprentice nodded, but didn't say more on why she didn't want to spend time with Briar's former apprentice. But he could guess. Perhaps they are too similiar, He thought. They are both very strong presences, maybe it makes them feel like they have to compete for my attention...
The ground sloped as they walked, and Briarthroat called a warning to the party. "Keep your senses open-" Before the tom could finish his thought, the thick scent of something large flooded over him. His scanned ahead and felt dismay hit him. In their slower pace to talk about the next day's tasks, they had lost sight of the other warriors. Briarthroat felt his shoulders tense, tail lash to curl protectively around Charredpaw. She snapped it away, a reflexive gesture that ultimately gave away their position. Demon charged from up above, landing in front of the pair to immediately attack. Its paw swiped the deputy flat, claws scoring across his side from the force behind the gesture. He felt his air leave him in one gust. His head smacked into the ground, stars dancing across his sight. As he fought to inhale, Charredpaw's yowls of terror took his breath away entirely. "Charredpaw!"
He wasted no time after that scream to get to his paws, assessing the situation as quickly as he could. He hadn't taught her yet how to handle larger cats, especially not those the size of Demon. If Briarthroat didn't intervene soon, Demon would win. In front of him, the young she-cat was dancing around the monsterous form, her size saving her from being hit a few times. But luck ran out quick without experience to back it up, and a paw caught her across the jaw. Charredpaw went sailing, crashing into a Treeclan tree with a crunch. Ignoring the borders for his apprentice's sake, Briarthroat used his lengthy stride to get between her and Demon. It growled as the deputy entered the fray, teeth dripping saliva with its roar. Just beyond its massive shoulders, he saw the other warriors limp into view. Despite one heavily supporting the other, they both shifted to leap into helping. "Get her back to camp, and that is an order!" He shouted to them. This would take all of his training to pull off. He didn't need the other cats getting underpaw. A single life was better than four. And the clan needed to know Demon was hunting in their lands again. Perhaps not for long if I have anything to say about that.
Not waiting for the warriors to respond, Briarthroat let a growl fill his entire frame. His fur raised along his spine, tail lashing in challenge. "Focus on me," he said, already starting to step back towards the mountains. Demon tracked him with its gaze, watching the tom deliberately move away from the group. An easier target then. It followed. As the two warriors stole to Charredpaw's side, Briarthroat knew at least they could be safe, and leapt into keeping the attention on him for their escape. His paws smacked into Demon's space, taunting it with easy misses and sliding steps that would drag the monster where he wanted it to go. It was a technique he taught to Nettleheart, that Charredpaw would learn some day, if Starclan was on her side. Larger cats always had the advantage of size, of hitting harder and of a certain stamina lithe and smaller cats could not replicate. But Briarthroat knew that their paws took up more space than his ever would, and their energy could be wasted by making them use those paws to hit as spaces he used to be. It was a technique for a long fight, specifically meant for those with the stamina to stay alert. It was, if one examined Briarthroat's technique, the battle skill that made him a force to reckon with. Rarely used, the expertise shined in the delivery. He corralled Demon with an ease spawned through seasons of experience, up and out of the sight of the others entirely.
His luck of course, was going to run out. He did not count on it to last. The scratches down his shoulder and side became a steady burn with each dodge he executed. His lungs had never fully recovered from Green cough, making his breath pant in his own ears in tandum to his heartbeat, loud and distracting. He needed to get Demon as far as he could, then he could run, Briarthroat told himself. Before his luck would run out, he would keep his clan safe.
BRIARTHROAT
"Up we get," Briarthroat called to his apprentice, voice breaking the quiet of the morning. "We have a Northern border to check, Charredpaw." was the reply to her grumble. Charredpaw knew they were assigned on this early patrol, but it didn't stop the annoyance of a flipped sleeping schedule making her paw steps slow. The deputy let her set the pace to the other cats waiting by the entrance, stretching his own muscles that were still sore from their trek yesterday. The cats looked as enthused as he felt at doing an early day patrol. All this early morning territory walking is making me feel my age! he thought with a tired internal sigh as he nodded and led the way out.
The increased patrols on the Treeclan border, he could see as the group walked, were wearing them out. It was necessary in the couple moons after taking back the border, but Briarthroat wondered if the traditional routine really worked. Lionstar already planned to push the border again; his speech at the gathering eluded to such an attempt. Perhaps, the deputy wondered, if their time would be better spent training. He glanced over at his apprentice, dutifully keeping pace though each paw dragged through the dirt. Maybe I'll have her and Nettleheart practice battle techniques tomorrow instead.
"How about we battle train tomorrow, stretch those muscles we've been building by the long walks." Briarthroat suggested, earning a half-hearted shrug, followed by an unfortunately familiar bitterness.
"Just us? Or will Nettleheart be there?" He felt a frown twist the corners of his mouth.
"It can be just us if you'd like." His apprentice nodded, but didn't say more on why she didn't want to spend time with Briar's former apprentice. But he could guess. Perhaps they are too similiar, He thought. They are both very strong presences, maybe it makes them feel like they have to compete for my attention...
The ground sloped as they walked, and Briarthroat called a warning to the party. "Keep your senses open-" Before the tom could finish his thought, the thick scent of something large flooded over him. His scanned ahead and felt dismay hit him. In their slower pace to talk about the next day's tasks, they had lost sight of the other warriors. Briarthroat felt his shoulders tense, tail lash to curl protectively around Charredpaw. She snapped it away, a reflexive gesture that ultimately gave away their position. Demon charged from up above, landing in front of the pair to immediately attack. Its paw swiped the deputy flat, claws scoring across his side from the force behind the gesture. He felt his air leave him in one gust. His head smacked into the ground, stars dancing across his sight. As he fought to inhale, Charredpaw's yowls of terror took his breath away entirely. "Charredpaw!"
He wasted no time after that scream to get to his paws, assessing the situation as quickly as he could. He hadn't taught her yet how to handle larger cats, especially not those the size of Demon. If Briarthroat didn't intervene soon, Demon would win. In front of him, the young she-cat was dancing around the monsterous form, her size saving her from being hit a few times. But luck ran out quick without experience to back it up, and a paw caught her across the jaw. Charredpaw went sailing, crashing into a Treeclan tree with a crunch. Ignoring the borders for his apprentice's sake, Briarthroat used his lengthy stride to get between her and Demon. It growled as the deputy entered the fray, teeth dripping saliva with its roar. Just beyond its massive shoulders, he saw the other warriors limp into view. Despite one heavily supporting the other, they both shifted to leap into helping. "Get her back to camp, and that is an order!" He shouted to them. This would take all of his training to pull off. He didn't need the other cats getting underpaw. A single life was better than four. And the clan needed to know Demon was hunting in their lands again. Perhaps not for long if I have anything to say about that.
Not waiting for the warriors to respond, Briarthroat let a growl fill his entire frame. His fur raised along his spine, tail lashing in challenge. "Focus on me," he said, already starting to step back towards the mountains. Demon tracked him with its gaze, watching the tom deliberately move away from the group. An easier target then. It followed. As the two warriors stole to Charredpaw's side, Briarthroat knew at least they could be safe, and leapt into keeping the attention on him for their escape. His paws smacked into Demon's space, taunting it with easy misses and sliding steps that would drag the monster where he wanted it to go. It was a technique he taught to Nettleheart, that Charredpaw would learn some day, if Starclan was on her side. Larger cats always had the advantage of size, of hitting harder and of a certain stamina lithe and smaller cats could not replicate. But Briarthroat knew that their paws took up more space than his ever would, and their energy could be wasted by making them use those paws to hit as spaces he used to be. It was a technique for a long fight, specifically meant for those with the stamina to stay alert. It was, if one examined Briarthroat's technique, the battle skill that made him a force to reckon with. Rarely used, the expertise shined in the delivery. He corralled Demon with an ease spawned through seasons of experience, up and out of the sight of the others entirely.
His luck of course, was going to run out. He did not count on it to last. The scratches down his shoulder and side became a steady burn with each dodge he executed. His lungs had never fully recovered from Green cough, making his breath pant in his own ears in tandum to his heartbeat, loud and distracting. He needed to get Demon as far as he could, then he could run, Briarthroat told himself. Before his luck would run out, he would keep his clan safe.
ulla
