S
Sedgerunner
Guest
"BUT I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR"
Ooc - CW brief mention of mental abuse
The past events of raiding SkyClan still plagued within her mind, the outcries of her ex-clan mates to the judgmental weight of other warrior's scorned her vision. Sedgerunner should have vouched herself to go on patrol, to show her undying loyalty to her clan at whatever the cost. To come back with scars to mark her victories or defeat with a head held high and a new found confidence in her gait. Maybe she'd be able to look her higher ups in the eyes, to not flinch as their gazes pierced through her thin frame. In truth, she had made an effort to stay out of Badgermoon's eye, to not be called to battle. She was too scared—petrified of what the outcome was. Would she have ended up like Sunsetbreeze? No. He died a hero to WindClan. If she would have perished, it would have been because of the frozen fear that would ensnare her, gripping at her paws and any muscle that attempted to move. She would have died like the coward she was. Like the insecure little girl she grew up to be.
She can still hear the condescending criticisms of her old mentor, calling her weak. You're no better than the shit that dissolves into the soil. You have no purpose here. You're worthless. You can't even defend yourself. You may as well lay dkwn fkr the maggots to feed on, at least you'll make some use of your pathetic existence. His serpentine tongue would lash at her, cutting down any of what remained of her confidence. He believed in beating down his pupils till there was nothing, then building them back up his way. But, Sedgerunner was a bit more emotional than anticipated. She never had the backbone to fight back. Instead, she lay there and took it, continuously getting metaphorical lashes from him as he berated her.
Sedgerunner sat in the clearing, her eyes pointed to the sky. The weak sunlight cloaked her cinnamon ticked fur, the remnants of it's warmth soothing on her skin. Her old mentor laid heavy on her mind, more than usual even. How would she prove her worth? Luckily, the moor runner did love to run. She seemed to have a knack for hunting along the moors, at least. She could admit she was—average with her hunting prowess. Unbeknownst to her, Sedgerunner was very quick. Her clan mates have made comments before on how she's outpaced the hares in the moor. Wolfsong. He was gentle to her, friendly. He made her feel like an individual. She'd never say in fear of mockery —but, she did strive to be kind like he was. She also strived to be strong for her clan and resilient like Sootstar, too. Perhaps one day, she could make that dream become a reality.
The first step to such a thing, though, was to improve. She needed to improve her battle prowess, to gain the confidence in order to face her fears in the eye with a defiant gaze and outstretched claws that would slice through flesh with ease. But the only way to do that, was to train. And train hard for it too.
The moor runner rose upon petite paws, digging ivory claws into the half frozen ground to steady herself and her nerves. She felt as if she might keel over at any moment, anxiety eating away at whatever was left of her abdomen. Just do it. Now or never. With a tense frame, she finally opened her maw to speak. "W-Would anyone like to spar with me and—and perhaps teach me how to be-better my battle skills?"
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