DARK COLOURED COFFEE [ training patrol ]

[SILVERSMOKE]

Colour had long since drained from the world around them, leaving nothing but a greyscale hue of a bitter winter night. Even with his fur, designed for the colder climates, there was a certain biting sensation to his facial muscles as he slinked towards the sandy ravine, leaving Silversmoke with gritted teeth and grittier thoughts. At the time, he'd promised he would do the job with pride, he didn't think the time had softened his resolve, but it had left him sleepier than he would have liked. Between organising this patrol and the subsequent guard duty, the spotted tabby knew he was working overtime, even if he'd see it through to the end, the allure of a warm nest when the sun peaked over the horizon tempted him to end it quickly. Pupils darted towards the sky whenever there was a gap in the pines, for the first time, Silversmoke noticed that the moon only revealed a slim portion of itself that night. Visibility would be poor, perfect for a training session to teach the apprentices how to watch the shadows. The tomcat stepped out into the clearing for the first time in a while, turning to the patrol behind him.

The stern look of an authority figure was offered to Thistleback, but even he knew he'd stared too long. It would never feel entirely right to boss about superiors, even for a night, but realising how weak he'd seem if he searched for approval to do such a thing, Silversmoke's lip eventually curled and he turned his focus to the apprentices. "You're all bright... for the most part... I don't think I need to explain to you why the night makes fighting more difficult. But it's something you need to learn how to handle, other clans will use it as a means to ambush us, especially those that favour the dark." He didn't think he was being too vague when implying what clan liked the night. Black-tipped ears twitched, and the tomcat leapt into the training grounds. Sand and frost crunched beneath his paws, a sad reminder of his little stumble just a few weeks prior - hopefully, the so-called 'bright' students would be more aware of the ice than he was. "Chrys, I want you to stay in the centre of the ravine. Quillpaw, Fierypaw, go to the outskirts, hide in the shadows. Chrys, your job will be to figure out where the threats are coming from and stop at least one of them. Quillpaw, Fierypaw, your jobs will be to get attacks off on Chrys without sticking around long enough for him to know what hit him. We'll switch out who attacks who after some time."

Trial-and-error teaching, Silversmoke figured that was the best way to go. Fighting to him was disciplined but instinctual and he had yet to find out a way to explain that compelling force when it was just as much a part of him as the stripes upon his forehead and the fluff upon his tail. Thankfully, he figured that the apprentices wouldn't mind jumping right into it. Reclining on his haunches at the corner of the ravine, the warrior offered some final words. "Remember, no claws. When you're in position, feel free to start. Thistleback and I will assess where you're at in between rounds and offer advice."

[ @ThistleBack @CHRYSALISPAW @Quillpaw @FIERYPAW ]
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[CHRYSALISWING]

Chrysalispaw glanced up at the stingy glimmer of the crescent moon, like a claw bleeding through the pitch-varnished canvas, a streak of light through the impenetrable darkness. In scenes such as this, Chrys noticed how even the stars malingered in the presence of the moon, no matter how halved or surrendered. He wondered if that meant Starclan did not look upon them as favorably, though he knew it naught to be the case. Silverpelt was still there, surely, as faint as it could be. White winter brandished no mercy upon the felines, as though its fury came in the form of heavy snow and the ous frostbite. The snowstorms had let up but had not lessened their wrath. Despite its softness, the snow was nothing more than a smothering, smoldering devastation. The settling twilight rendered the scape nothing but a greyscale and fatalistic land as if even the beams could not glean any luminescence from it, as it simply toiled at the surface of despaired nothingness.

Hmph. The apprentice slinked off with a gait leaden in his intention, breaking quickly away from the crowd at his mentor's command, though he wasn't doing it just because the adult told him to. Biting an embittered tongue back, Chrys would simply wait for Quillpaw and Fierypaw to assume their stances in the shadows. Even if he could not see them, he could still scent them. The boy stopped at a point in the ravine where the moonlight bathed his gaudy flame-colored accents in a wreath of brightness, mismatched eyes glowering as he waited for the others to make their move, and do so quickly. He didn't have all night.​