HOLD MY OWN AND DRIVE — frustration

[LIONPAW]

Skyclaw's attack had been a catalyst. Everything had changed that day; Lionpaw knew that, from now on, he was no longer a wide-eyed, meek little kit. He couldn't afford to be; whose lives would he be costing if he was? Orangestar's? His kin's? His own? He refused to allow himself to stare death in the eyes like a coward ever again. Lionpaw was a warrior-in-training now and he had to learn how to be strong for his clan. How embarrassing would it be if he received his warrior name only to tuck his tail in between his legs every time he was faced with a threat?

So, for nearly two moons, Lionpaw's training had been extensive. Achy muscles, early mornings, and an exhausted brain were daily occurrences for him — the chocolate torbie point was determined to soak up as much information as possible from Crowsight. This wasn't above proving himself as worthy to the other apprentices anymore... or at least that was what he insisted. Lionpaw's sole focus now was becoming a great warrior, just as he always wanted to be. Just as he needed to be.

However, today's sparring attempt had not panned out so successfully for the apprentice. As much as Lionpaw had been relentlessly training with his older brother, learning various combat moves and SkyClan-specific skills, he did not yet possess the expertise to defeat a trainee who was moons older than him. The torbie may have had a momentary chance at gaining the upper paw, but foolishly, he had slipped and allowed Emberpaw to pin him down. Thud Lionpaw goes against the sandy floor, blue eyes staring up into hues of orange. They remind him of Skyclaw's, fiery and bright with malice. Lionpaw had lost... again. "Okay, okay, you win." Their tone catches an impatient edge, albeit not intentionally, though they cannot help the flurry of emotions that well in their chest.

The pair break apart for now, with Lionpaw practically yanking away from Emberpaw and doing little to mask his defeat as he trudged toward the sidelines of the Sandy Ravine. Lionpaw plops onto his haunches, chest heaving and falling as dim eyes stared down dispiritedly at the ground. When asked if he felt alright, the tom was quick to brush them off and shake his head. " 'm good, just... need to catch my breath." They sighed with a twitch of his tail. He would prepare himself for another round if he had to, but surely his motivation would be squandered if he kept losing.

𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✹ . + 　 　˚ 　　　　 · 　 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐃

• @EMBERPAW. but no need to wait

• 

• 

  an apprentice of skyclan, lionpaw is eight moons and is mentored by crowsight. he is the son of doeblaze and blazestar. an amalgamation of his parents, lionpaw exhibits splashes of ginger and chocolate tabby patterns against a thick, longhaired cream pelt.　✦

​

 

[Chickbloom]

Chickbloom’s combat experience was similar to a kittypet’s interactions with water: short and unpleasant. The coward had sparred a handful of times, and even took part in a battle not too long ago, but the milksop didn’t fancy himself a fighter. The pressure, the pace, the endless snap decisions, it always rattled the whelp. He much preferred hunting with its slow, methodical tempo. There the tomcat could take his time, and an ember of pride smoldered within the Scottish Fold at how proficient he’d become at it in recent moons.

Still, Chickbloom couldn’t lob dead squirrels at Skyclan’s enemies, so the Scottish Fold had found himself (somewhat unwillingly) at the sandy ravine, amber eyes wincing at each witnessed blow between Emberpaw and Lionpaw. He’d originally come with the unstated goal of gaining insight on any techniques he could use (embarrassed to be learning from apprentices), but their session turned from instructive to concerning a while ago. The beatdown had dragged on much too long in the whelp’s opinion, but it seemed the tenacious apprentice had more stomach for this than Chickbloom (admittedly a low bar to clear).

The baby bird glanced sidelong at the dejected cat, swishing a yolk-stained tail as his mind whirred. The whelp was no Slate or Silversmoke, he couldn’t give combat advice, but as Lionpaw’s better he felt the need to help out somehow.

“I - I think you - y’know - you got a lot - lot closer that time” The skittish Scottish Fold eventually stammered out, hoping to lift Lionpaw’s spirits. “Do you - d-d’you want some water? I bet you’ll win if you c-cool down first.”​

 

[Owlheart]

Sparring was not Owlheart’s favourite activity, she shared the same view as Chickbloom. Having a preference to hunting, there was something more enjoyable about the rush of chasing prey. She guessed if she had to think about it then it was probably because in the majority of circumstances hunting isn’t life threatening. She normally doesn’t have to worry about another cat striking her when tracking, of course, that can happen but it wasn’t an expectation. Sparring was different- fighting in general was different. In these situations it can be very easy to slip into the same heightened feelings that she thought prey felt when being hunted. It was essentially being hunted right? Mistakes in sparring can cost greatly, especially if they stick to you and those habits follow you into actual combat.

Eyes shift to the scar that marred Lionpaw, he would know that, wouldn’t he? She assumed that may be why he insisted on not stopping between spars. That or maybe it just ran in his blood, Crowsight always seemed eager to spar, she remembers those late nights where he was off with Silversmoke. Maybe the two were more alike than she had assumed. She shifts on her haunches, sitting next to the buttered tom cat. The pair of them staring as witnesses to what felt like a rising temper, their tone held a hardness to it that he didn’t normally carry. “I think you should get some water” she parrots Chickbloom, concern evident in her tone.

“You’re only going to get reckless if you’re exhausted, or you’ll be too tired to properly focus on Emberpaw’s moves” Concerned warm gold eyes shift their gaze between the two apprentices, a small smile given to Emberpaw. Owlheart had watched her spar before, she was clever and as such made her a tricky opponent, strong in combat prowess and not afraid to use the environment to her advantage. If winning was Lionpaw’s goal here then they needed to take the time to think, a small break could easily do that. “Sit down for a moment, so you can properly catch your breath. I think you could win if you give yourself time to rest” the last thing she wanted was to watch them run himself into exhaustion, she didn’t want him to pass out or anything like that.
​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

Should a hawk's shadow pass his gaze at that point in time, Silversmoke may not have even noticed it. Akin to a pale statue, all that moved of the spotted tabby were his eyes, tracking the combatants as if his life depended on it. It was an important thing, to watch his apprentice and his former apprentice's apprentice spar. Had they been the same age, they may have been equally matched - he could see where his own battle style had influenced Lionpaw's training, how Emberpaw responded to them as if it were the spotted tabby himself she was going against. But, in a world where two apprentices received the same training, it would, most of the time, be the one with the most experience who would win. That was the case here, but not because of Emberpaw's experience, but rather, because of Lionpaw's inexperience. Eyes glinted and narrowed at the point's stumble, how he hesitated when staring up at the other, how he conceded defeat when his back hit the earth. Others moved towards Bobbie's son first, offering their support and telling him to rest. When Owlheart and Chickbloom had finished, the tom stood up, offering a nod to Emberpaw.

Not quite congratulatory, it wasn't exactly a challenge to defeat an apprentice four moons younger than you, but he could acknowledge a victory all the same. He turned his attention to Lionpaw next, his feathery tail swaying behind him. "You're thinking too much," he concluded. "The best warriors don't plan their next move, they just... move. Each pawstep is as natural as breathing, each hit planned subconsciously or not at all. You're not doing that and it's making you predictable. You also had an opportunity to bounce back from your slip, being under an opponent like that lets you hit them with all four paws - enough kicks to the belly will make anyone loosen their grip on you." Battle was a primal thing, something that awakened a great beast inside many, something so chaotic and yet so beautiful despite it going against everything the tom stood for. Perhaps it was a piece of history, his fascination clinging to him like a scar as a reminder of life before SkyClan. Or, perhaps he just liked fighting, and believed it to be his way of helping SkyClan when his hunting and tracking were perfectly average. Either way, he felt compelled to help Lionpaw with his observations.

He just had to hope Crowsight didn't mind him overstepping his boundaries.

"They're right, though. You need to rest before you try again."



​