Call Upon My Weaknesses | Sparring

S

Sedgerunner

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"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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"YOU'RE NOT A PART TIME GOD"​
Perhaps to most it'd seem unfair that the first cat who's ears pricked and orange eyes glimmered with the call of a challenge was Houndthistle, the hulking brute nearly already towering amongst most average cats, with a large, bulky frame more fit for perhaps a cat that climbed trees and throwing his weight around then darting across the moors-a clear difference between him and his more leaner, lankier companions in Windclan-but boy, did he love a fight, even if it was all for the sake of "training." Upon Sedgerunner's call, he rose from where he previously was sunning himself to the best of his abilities, a stretch sending ripples down the older ex-rogue's muscles, stumpy tail curling over his rump before he stood and shook himself like a dog.

Ambling like a cougar, he made his way to stand across from the small, petite brown she-cat. He took a moment to analyze her, the dense tom's hardened mind picking her apart before his claws slipped from their nail beds, casting shallow ravines into damp soil below, as he responded to her call, "I'll never turn down a spar. Always gotta stay in shape, yeah?" Despite his more gruff tone and intimidating stance, the large tom gave a sly smile. He'd never hold back, not even against a clan mate, but he knew better than to play as dirty. No. Squaring his shoulders, orange eyes glimmering with a life they usually never held, he nodded to the other, motioning her to start first.
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"BUT I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR"​
To no surprise, any opportunity to spar was something WindClan cats thrived upon. The thrill of battle and to show their strength, to feel adrenaline rush through their veins and grant them a heightened amount of stamina and the chance to feel well—alive. Sedgerunner needed to learn how to feel that feeling, how to control her fight or flight response and learn to stand up than to run away. She patiently awaited for someone to vouch themselves, anxiety gnawing at her abdomen and drying out her throat. Perhaps a clan mate she had entrusted would volunteer and they could have a friendly spar while showing her the ropes? But, unfortunately, to the molly's luck she wasn't so lucky to get what she wanted.
Instead, a looming silhouette appeared before her with a devilish smile with prominent incisors protruding under his lips. He towered above her, glowing golden eyes staring at her as if she were mere prey and not a fellow clan mate. Sedgerunner gulped, any ounce of confidence she had had been drowned out by overwhelming fear. Houndthistle stood a whole head taller than her, and even more so now that she shrunk down. A cold behemoth in his own right, he had to lower his head in order to speak to her. Elongated ears sloped back tightly against her skull, virdian eyes grew wide as she sizes him up herself. He was going to tear her apart and pick her bones. The thrum of her heartbeat grew faster, harder, hammering in her chest like a wild stallion. Her blood ran cold, draining any flow from her angular face. How the hell was she supposed to spar with a soldier who had seasons of battle experience compared to her?
You use his size against him, idiot. You triumph in speed where he triumphs in strength. Use your wits about you or get strewn across the moorland like that piece of shit you are. Her old mentors berating voice echoed in her mind, causing her to flinch violently. Houndthistle spoke to her then, mentioning something about staying in shape. Sedgerunner hardly heard him, too petrified of his intimidating presence. You can still back out of this, if you want to. You don't stand a snow ball's chance in Hell against this guy. No. She couldn't afford to. She'd fight him to the best if her abilities, hopefully copying and studying his movements would help her as well.
The moor runner wordlessly nods at the brutish tom, turning away a few paces before circling back to him. She breathes in deeply, attempting to grab a hold of her trembling nerves. He gives her a nod for her to start, and she gives him a pitiful smile in return. "Okay. I ho-hope to learn a lot from you, Houndthistle." She comments this, hopefully to remind him that this was a training moment for her.
It's quiet between the two of them now, tension crackling through the air like an ongoing thunder storm. She can't back down. She has to do this. For her growth. With gritted teeth, Sedgerunner doesn't think further, she just does it. The lighter warrior moves swiftly, bounding from her position and skids to Thistlehound's left side, kicking up sand behind her. She moves toward him now, her heart roaring in her ears and attempts to dart underneath his chest, aiming to sweep his front legs from underneath him. If she was to succeed, Thistlehound would stumble and give her the advantage to jump on him again.
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Oh yeah. A good old fashioned spar. Spiderbloom loved watching those. When Sedgerunner announced she wanted help with her fighting techniques, she knew she was in for a show.

Her paws were tucked under her as she watched, nice and comfortable with her tail wrapped around her. Her fur wasn't meant for the chill of leafbare, and it was all she could do to stay warm.

When Houndthistle volunteered, she blinked. He was a large brute, and Sedgerunner.....Was not. This was going to be an unfair fight, she knew.

But who knows! Perhaps Sedgerunner would surprise her.

"Beat his ass, Sedgerunner! You can do it!" She called. Sometimes all you needed was a little encouragement!

If not, she was ready to get Vulturemask. And Dandelionwish. It would take two medicine cats to put her back together, surely.
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Weaselclaw has had his doubts about Sedgerunner since her emotional outburst in the face of Sunsetbreeze's death. He could forgive a grieving Clanmate, however -- what he could not forgive was a traitor. Their fellow warrior lay beneath the frosty earth now, Galeforce and Yewberry having been disposed of accordingly, and Sedgerunner has not spoken out again. The tabby watches her with brooding blue eyes, ever-wary of rebellion, ever-wary of betrayal.

He's pleasantly surprised when she approaches a group of peers and asks for a sparring partner to practice her battle skills. The tabby had been preparing to head out on patrol, but instead he finds his bright-eyed, dark-pelted apprentice and beckons him over with a tail flick. "@sparkpaw., come here. Let's see what you can learn from watching." He motions for the two of them to sit beside Spiderbloom, who cheers for them as they begin to battle. "Study their movements," he murmurs to his apprentice. "See if you can tell where they went right... and where they went wrong."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
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"YOU'RE NOT A PART TIME GOD"​
As he watched Sedgerunner move across, putting distance between them, Houndthistle couldn't help but remember fond memories. Early mornings, a ginger fire cracker with bright green eyes greeting him, begging to spar, so desperate to learn that he'd nip and yank on Houndthistle's ears to wake the sleeping beast, good humored grumbles and swats to bypass the energized ball of firey fluff before eventually giving in-he could practically see that small little scrap, barreling toward him only with the determination to keep flinging himself at the larger brute until he gave. A flex of the larger tom's claws was his response, brow furrowing as his amber gaze hardened and his muscles tensed as she spoke finally, marking her agreeance to welcome his call to her challenge. His stumpy tail was straight behind him, waiting as the baited breath of the other, watching the deliberation in her gaze, the calculations. She wasn't a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed kit, Houndthistle knew this, but the clean coat, free of scars and nerves within those green depths held that same naivety that he remembered him holding, and that only strengthened his resolve to give it his all. Nothing in this world would hold back against her. Houndthistle knew it didn't care about that kit...

While wrapped up in his thoughts and memories, hearing movement yanked him back into the now, amber eyes locking onto the movement even as his body lagged behind. Her small paws cast up dust as she zipped to his left, faster than his reflexes could respond, but as she darted beneath him, paws aiming to attempt to fling his out, he saw her first mistake. As her paws swept toward the closest to her, he lifted it and let her sweep his other paw outward, hoping to drop his weight straight onto her defenseless back and attempt to wrap that lifted leg around her chest and roll the pair of them over. He'd expose his belly, sure, but he'd also expose her's and, hopefully, knock the breath out of her with his sheer size. "I'm bigger, I'm heavier... be smarter," He huffed at her.
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The last time she'd been around Sedgerunner was hen they returned from the fated raid, she can still remember the she-cats caterwaul how she cried out in defiance of her clanmates for disrespecting Sunsetbreeze's death and memory. Before that her opinion on her wasn't horrible, she was just another warrior not a particularly good one but her senior regardless, she was also better at catching rabbits then Firepaw could ever be. Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things, loyalty mattered now more then ever it's what Sootstar wanted to see and she was uneasy around any cat who defied her no matter how small such objections were, she didn't like the idea of chasing more of her clanmates away especially not those who provided for them already who were worthy enough to bask under Starclan's light and live on the moors; cats unlike Yewberry. Days had passed since then and the weather had become more fair, no longer were they struggling so painfully to survive, some of the sick had recovered and words of treachery weren't spoken as much beneath whispered breaths. Sedgerunner isn't despairing instead she comes out looking to hone her claws in a sparring match, and well Firepaw figures no matter who she goes against she's gonna get her ass kicked. Sadly she's too late to offer herself over, which may be a good thing if she was refused on account of her age. She isn't unaware of the fact some of her clanmates look at her and the apprentices to much like feeble kits, she's never liked that.

She comes padding over to sit near Weaselclaw and his apprentice, ears folded back as Spiderbloom calls out in encouragement to the lanky she-cat. Her gaze focuses on her opponent; Houndthistle a warrior she doesn't know or respect as much as she does Weaselclaw or Juniperfrost but one worthy of it! She smiles softly watching the fight claws flexing excitedly, she can still recall the thrill she felt in every muscle of her body during the raid at Skyclan's border. Watching isn't the same but it gives her a taste of that excitement. ❝Whip her into shape! Go Houndthistle!❞ she yowls her praise, choosing a 'side' to root for easily. ​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )
 
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"BUT I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR"​
Houndthistle hadn't conducted a move yet, but Sedgerunner was too focused on the offensive that she had not realized. The glint of amber catches her eye, his eyes following her with that spine-chilling predatory look. If the moor runner hadn't already devoted herself into this spar, she'd surely halt within her tracks by the mere look he gave her. She succeeds in her attempts, but the larger tom was lying in wait for her. He lifts her original target out of the way just as she slides under him, her fore limbs pushing out his other paw. Just as any frame would topple over without the firm beams below to hold it steady, so did the towering warrior. But this was a controlled fall, as his weight came crashing down upon her exposed back. Oxygen escaped her lungs abruptly as her chest connected to the sandy surface below, letting out a pained gasp of surprise and fear. No, no, no! You're doing it wrong, again! You think you're the first one to think to sweep his legs? He saw that coming from miles away! You're so damn predictable.
Sedgerunner can hear the gathering of a group before them, some yelling encouragements to her and some not so encouraging in favor of Houndthistle. She tries to move, but has no time to react as a large paw wraps around her chest like a stone tomb, twisting her from underneath him and suddenly she sees nothing but the open sky. The bleak sun shone upon her face now, glaring down at her mockingly and to show them all her weakness. There she was trapped within the metaohorical canines grip that Houndthistle was named for, flopping around like a wet fish upon dry land. She begins to feel panic flow through her, her thrashing growing more frantic as she's trapped with her soft abdomen exposed. I'm bigger, I'm heavier..be smarter. His warm breath billows over her ears as he whispers to her, offering advice in his own way. I can't get out! I'm already done for. The spar had just started and she was already done for.
No. I can't. Not yet. I haven't even tried my hardest. She finally nods to him that show she heard him. Houndthistle was right. She had to be smarter. With a clenched jaw, Sedgerunner breathes in deeply and ceases her thrashing. She had to get out of his grip. Using her limber frame, the warrior twists her body as she attempts to face Houndthistle, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment. She then gets her bearings, aiming to use her powerful hind legs on his abdomen like a spring board, to winch herself free of his tight clamp on her. She had to find a way to get past his strength, to use his own body against him. She hoped this would work so she could face him head on again. It was clear that she needed to learn how to attack and evade, but how would she was the question at hand. It was more than simple jabs and dodging. It had to be calculated and controlled, just as he did.
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"YOU'RE NOT A PART TIME GOD"​
She thrashes like a frightened fish in his grip, Houndthistle's fangs brushing threateningly by the back of her neck as she panicked. He allowed her to do that, to have that moment-may not be the best entertainment to others but the only way to learn in his opinion was for them to think for themselves-and once she nods, acknowledging his advice. Good. She springs from him, putting distance back between them and Houndthistle gives himself a second to prep, calculating, and allowed her time to also calculate.

Throwing his shoulder over, he appears to try and drag himself back to his paws, but as his upper-half twisted to be upright, his amber eyes snapped at her and his claws dug into the ground, muscles bunching. Quicker then possibly expected, Houndthistle used his sheer strength to launch himself from the "crouch" at the other, claws outstretched to attempt to bowl her over. The move was one he liked using when in the position to, knowing not many cats expected him to be able to move quickly-but all it was was momentum, something his large size dealt with very well.
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"BUT I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR"​
Her body feels light again, the force of her springing away from the lumbering limbs of the massive tom underneath her finally releasing her from his grasp. Sedgerunner lands on her feet, kicking up more mud behind her. She's quivering from the amount of adrenaline pumping through her slender frame, the shaking of her limbs visible for all to see. A small fire ignites within her chest, slowly burning—slowly taking hold of her. She feels—thrilled? Was that what that was? The thrilled of finally facing an enemy rather than running away from it? The moor runner has felt a small bit of this feeling before, but it was only during her close-call hunting parties. But this was—overwhelming. The chocolate molly didn't know how to store it and put it to use in her favor.
Houndthistle twists his body half-heartedly, his front now facing her. He's not quick enough to get all the way up—right? Right? Her thoughts whirled in her mind like a twister, slowing dowm her reaction time. The large warrior springs off tne ground with a surprising amount of speed and force. Sedgerunner's virdian eyes widen in deathly surprise. Oh, no no no! It was too late, she was too late. The large mass smacks right into her chest, sending the air from her lungs careening out of her. She feels his claws grasp at her shoulders, their razor tips slicing into her skin to make swallow rivets. Blood trickles off her, but the pain is bearable. Her heart thunders loudly, fear striking her and making her falter. Houndthistle wasnt going nearly as hard as he could be, which she was thankful of. If he was, this spar would've been over already and she'd have to bear the embarrassment from her clan mates observing. They skid through the mud and without thinking for once, Sedgerunner folds her legs under him and moves to place them on his abdomen and chest. She attempts to dig strong hind paws into his soft underbelly, her own claws trying to grasp into his skin. With a mighty push, the warrior attempts to use the momentum to send Houndthistle careening over her head.

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There was some excitement to be witnessed, it seemed. The broad-shouldered black and white tom was late to the scene, returning from a trip out on the moors just in time to spot the iron-tinged etching of lines along Sedgerunner's shoulders. Badgermoon winced a little at the sight, acutely aware of the sting she must be feeling - it was a fair shot, sure, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel some sympathy. WindClan's policy of training with unsheathed claws made sense to him - what good was practice if it didn't at least partially resemble the real thing? - but in leaf-bare, with their unstable medicine cat situation, he could not help but feel a twist of anxiety at the sight of a spar like this one. Yellow eyes flashing thoughtfully, he seated himself next to Firepaw, glad to see his apprentice was already present - she seemed to be watching closely, and was clearly energized by the violence. "Why did Houndthistle manage to hit her if she's smaller and more agile?" he inquired, interested in testing her knowledge.​
 
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