She and Halfpaw leave camp today alongside the dusk patrol, though they don't stay tethered to them for long. Their path, rather than winding all the way towards the border, comes to a halt in the middle of the territory. Where the frogsong is still loud, but there at least a bit of open space one can run around in without tripping over loose roots or sinking into mud puddles. ...Immediately, anyways. There was only so much of ShadowClan land without one of their many... iconic (annoying) features.
She prefers it like this though, without perfect terrain for Halfpaw to tread on, because real battles wouldn't have perfectly flat landscapes and treeless lands. She wanted to set reasonable expectations for Halfpaw. " You told me you want to be a good fighter, " she says. Or... something along those lines, anyways. " That's what we're doing today. "
Sharpshadow doesn't think anyone would look at her, when she fights, and be impressed or amazed. Her sense of battle is all adrenaline and frustration, channeling the things that have gotten her here into a will to battle; a will to live. It was... hard to put into words, but she had talked to herself in her nest all night to prepare herself to. " There are two important things to learn for combat. The first is strengths and weaknesses. " This was something that, hypocritically, Sharpshadow hardly thought about, in any of the times she's had to fight. Halfpaw ought to have sort of advice that'd do her good— that'd have Mosspool impressed— than be thrown into the ring like she had been, once upon a time. " Like... Smogmaw. " Saying your dad or my mentor felt too weird, in this moment. " He's a brute, so if he hits you, it'll probably hurt... " she remembers the battle torn between him in Sootstar, in the corner of her vision. " But he's also an oaf, so you can dodge him if he's quick enough. "
When it comes to himself, all he can think of are weaknesses. " M-my tail... can't move to much. So if any cat were to target it, it'd be bad. Probably, " She's lucky it hasn't happened yet... And that she likely wouldn't be fighting Halfpaw in the future, now that she's told her. " But most of the time, you're not really gonna have time to assess the... individual strengths and weaknesses of everyone. So instead, you should memorize by clan, including ShadowClan. "
It's partly for demonstration, and partly for her own anxiousness that she begins to pad back and forth, keeping her steps light. " We're the most quiet of them all. We can navigate the darkness without them noticing us. We can attack when other clans are not expecting it... " Like rats, her mind supplies with a sigh. Halfpaw didn't boast the same ashen grey pelt as her father, nor the typical dark coat of a ShadowClan cat. She was a spitting image of her mother— insult to injury, if she was Smogmaw, she might think. " It might be a little harder for you, but you'll get it. " You will. I'll make sure you will.
Maybe he should make this more... uh, interactive or something. A little bit aimlessly, he glances around, before an idea comes to him— one that he remembers from the dredges of his apprenticehood. He jerks his muzzle east. " I'm going to walk toward the Burnt Sycamore. Wait a little bit and then try and sneak up on me, " he instructs. Him... instructing. Wouldn't Smogmaw love to see this? Not like he cares.
Sharpshadow does as he said he would then, padding in the direction of the burnt sycamore. At this time of year, he at least had the fireflies— and an absurd amount of frogs— to keep him company. He'd sit with his back turned, and try and tuck his tail somewhere where it wouldn't be a nuisance.
// OOC: @Halfpaw
She prefers it like this though, without perfect terrain for Halfpaw to tread on, because real battles wouldn't have perfectly flat landscapes and treeless lands. She wanted to set reasonable expectations for Halfpaw. " You told me you want to be a good fighter, " she says. Or... something along those lines, anyways. " That's what we're doing today. "
Sharpshadow doesn't think anyone would look at her, when she fights, and be impressed or amazed. Her sense of battle is all adrenaline and frustration, channeling the things that have gotten her here into a will to battle; a will to live. It was... hard to put into words, but she had talked to herself in her nest all night to prepare herself to. " There are two important things to learn for combat. The first is strengths and weaknesses. " This was something that, hypocritically, Sharpshadow hardly thought about, in any of the times she's had to fight. Halfpaw ought to have sort of advice that'd do her good— that'd have Mosspool impressed— than be thrown into the ring like she had been, once upon a time. " Like... Smogmaw. " Saying your dad or my mentor felt too weird, in this moment. " He's a brute, so if he hits you, it'll probably hurt... " she remembers the battle torn between him in Sootstar, in the corner of her vision. " But he's also an oaf, so you can dodge him if he's quick enough. "
When it comes to himself, all he can think of are weaknesses. " M-my tail... can't move to much. So if any cat were to target it, it'd be bad. Probably, " She's lucky it hasn't happened yet... And that she likely wouldn't be fighting Halfpaw in the future, now that she's told her. " But most of the time, you're not really gonna have time to assess the... individual strengths and weaknesses of everyone. So instead, you should memorize by clan, including ShadowClan. "
It's partly for demonstration, and partly for her own anxiousness that she begins to pad back and forth, keeping her steps light. " We're the most quiet of them all. We can navigate the darkness without them noticing us. We can attack when other clans are not expecting it... " Like rats, her mind supplies with a sigh. Halfpaw didn't boast the same ashen grey pelt as her father, nor the typical dark coat of a ShadowClan cat. She was a spitting image of her mother— insult to injury, if she was Smogmaw, she might think. " It might be a little harder for you, but you'll get it. " You will. I'll make sure you will.
Maybe he should make this more... uh, interactive or something. A little bit aimlessly, he glances around, before an idea comes to him— one that he remembers from the dredges of his apprenticehood. He jerks his muzzle east. " I'm going to walk toward the Burnt Sycamore. Wait a little bit and then try and sneak up on me, " he instructs. Him... instructing. Wouldn't Smogmaw love to see this? Not like he cares.
Sharpshadow does as he said he would then, padding in the direction of the burnt sycamore. At this time of year, he at least had the fireflies— and an absurd amount of frogs— to keep him company. He'd sit with his back turned, and try and tuck his tail somewhere where it wouldn't be a nuisance.
// OOC: @Halfpaw