private RISE UP (kit training) TAKE THE POWER BACK

[STORMYWING]

// open to all ThunderClan exiles but she is addressing @COLTKIT

Stormywing has been restless ever since they ended up out here, now even more-so after other clanmates have joined them. It's become clear that their little vacation out to the loner lands is no longer temporary. They are in exile. She paces to and fro, her tail lashing in agitation. Her mind is filled with stormclouds, crackling and booming with every step she takes. What they can do? They have to do something. She stops, then, huffing from her nostrils as yellow eyes scan their small makeshift camp. It's then that she sees Coltkit by himself, batting at a mossball, and before she even thinks she is padding towards him with her head tilting this way and that.

"Heya, Coltkit!" She trills, her voice clearly strained but there is a forced joy in it. She doesn't want the kid to see how stressed she truly is. "Wanna try something new? How about I teach you a move or two? Never know when they could come in handy out here." Her gaze flicks up as she says that last part, looking to the sky and to the horizon before back at Coltkit. At this point, she'll do anything to keep the poor youngster entertained, and as a bonus, he will be just a little more prepared out here in these unknown lands. ​

 

[BURNSTORM]

The dark cloud that now hangs over his head like an impending storm doesn't leave. He puts on a brave face, does his best to act like everything is okay, but in the absence of his children, a smile is rarely written across his features and when it was it was for their benefit mostly. Stormywing, at least, is making the most of things. He watches impassively as she walks up to the young Coltkit and offers to teach him a few battle moves. With any luck, Coltkit would not have need of such skills for a time yet, but he knows in this world that's wishful thinking. Better he be equipped with the tools to be able to defend himself and not need it then the opposite. Skyclaw and his goonies could find us, if they really wanted to and then what?

He would do everything in his power to put his brother down like a dog, that's what.

He settles into the nearby shade to watch, curling his tail close to his body and if Stormywing were to catch his golden eyes, he would give his friend a tentative, strained, smile and a nod of encouragement. He would give anything to be back in ThunderClan, with Roeflame and Coalpaw and Hopepaw, but he is glad, at least, that he has a friend here with him.

( ☼ ) come and take it

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  BURNSTORM THUNDERCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; HE / HIM ; BROTHER TO MORNINGPAW, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYGLOW, SKYCLAW & DUSKBIRD ; MATE TO ROEFLAME ; FATHER TO DOVEKIT, BEETLEKIT, AND LITTLEKIT
  

  A large, sharp tongued, tom with long black fur and golden, oval shaped, eyes.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + fights honorably
  

 

[LITTLEPAW]

༻ ♥༺ In spite of her relative silence since the death of her grandmother, Littlepaw's brain was constantly churning. There was a pit of hate in there, festering since the moment her running nose made contact with her grandmother's fur, cold and moon-lit. The raw strength in her powerful build was not lost on her either, but Littlepaw was clumsy, and the idea of real battle terrified her.

With wide, contemplative eyes she follows her fathers heels, pupils pinned to Stormywing and Coltkit. That ember of contempt burns in her brain, that would never be her and Howlingstar. Her lips pressed together under the weight of her thoughts, though her overall expression would read as nervous, her typical unease.

"Can you show me those later?" The idea bursts like a firecracker, leaving her tongue at nearly the same pace it came to her mind. The force she gives her larynx to give her voice a noticeable boost is too hard, and her words come out loud, or confident?

Half-turned towards both the grown adults there, Littlepaw realizes she hadn't specified. "Uhm…" faltering, she looks to her father on instinct, forcing a thin smile. "…Please?"

She would try, for Hopepaw and Coalpaw and her mother and Howlingstar. Even if it meant to constantly feel this hammering in her chest.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── IVE GOT SO MUCH HONEY ⋅ ✩ ⋅ THE BEES ENVY ME ──┐‎

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  LITTLEPAW ✩ she/her, apprentice of thunderclan, 6 moons.
  ⭃ powerfully built and dense-furred chocolate smoked she-cat with amber eyes and black ribboning stretching across her face, foreleg, and tail.
  ⭃ daughter of Roeflame && Burnstorm ࿏ sister to Beetlepaw && Dovepaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[leafhusk]

leafhusk missed how the canopy shaded them like clouds. the booming activity of camp, and the quiet murmurs of nighttime. their temporary home is too open, inviting, and it reeks of unfamiliar stench. she's becoming used to the shift's in everyone's demeanor, the general anxiety sweeping through the trees— but some of it feels contagious. stormywing paces around the makeshift camp, huffing and puffing, twitching in an irritable way. the impatient thud of their paws matches in rhythm to her churning stomach, and she settles to lay down, belly pressed on the ground.

teaching children battle moves isn't out of the ordinary, but this feels... wrong. she knows that stormywing's just trying to keep the kid busy, but there's unspoken implications behind the offer. it makes her lips twitch into a frown, and she briefly turns to burnstorm, the only other lead stuck in purgatory with her. his daughter trots up, owlishy staring at the adults present before asking to join in bashfully. she muses outloud softly, "teaching the other kids some basic moves wouldn't hurt." it'd give them something to do other than hunt and sleep.

⚘

 

[COLTPAW]

The confines of their makeshift home are even tighter than those of their real one. Coltkit is lonely and listless, left adrift amidst the stunted undergrowth and the overlapping panels of sun and shade. He's taken to aimlessly smacking around a mossball he's cobbled together, but the game's not much fun by himself. The smack of his overlarge paw against the dusty moss grows repetitive as the hours stretch long, as the adults whisper to one another with creased brows. Oh, why couldn't he have been born a moon or two earlier? Then he'd be Coltpaw, and he could be out there hunting and training and being a real ThunderClanner.

" Stormywing! " he trills in reply to the older cat, and his voice tinges with surprised happiness when he notes he only need look up a bit to meet her eyes. Coltkit's tail begins to wag puppyish behind him as she proposes a battle lesson, and the abused mossball rolls away, forgotten. " Yeah! I bet you know lots of super cool moves, " he chirps, admiring the broad scar slashed across her chest. Wow, she must be a really good warrior to have such a cool scar.

Burnstorm catches his eye, tucked into the shade and watching with unreadable golden eyes. The boy tries to stand a little taller ( not that that's difficult for him ) and look like he's a really good future - warrior, who's totally not . . . super bored and tired. Littlepaw, too, speaks up, and the presence of another older and presumably cooler cat makes him puff his chest out so much it's nearly comical.

" Yeah, what Leafhusk said, " he proclaims, as if the lead warrior's words were handed down from on high. Leafhusk is also cool, he's decided. There are two kinds of cats in his world: cool cats, like Leafhusk and Burnstorm and Littlepaw. Cool cats are also hanging out in the scrubland, and they bring him food 'n stuff that thus far has been clean of any poison. Not - cool cats are like Skyclaw and Redflower and whoever had put deathberries in his and Ivorypaw's squirrel. Not - cool cats are to be avoided at all costs.

Actually, he decides after a moment of rumination, there's a third category, which is really cool cats. Thus far, that category is filled exclusively by Twi 'n Bay, who let him hang out in their nest and played with him and said goodbye to him. He misses the really cool cats . . . but wait, there's no time for this . . . this right now! He's gotta practice to be the best ThunderClanner ever, after all, and so he blinks up at Stormywing again, outsize forepaws kneading the earth. " So, um, what cool moves do you know? "

OOC : —

☁

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[STORMYWING]

Seeing Coltkit's excitement lifts her spirits a bit, though the tension in her shoulders doesn't fully release. She can't help but chuckle softly at the young tom's eagerness, a small spark of warmth amidst the storm brewing in her mind. "Well, I know a few tricks that might just make you the coolest ThunderClan warrior out here," Stormywing replies with a casual shrug of her shoulders, her tone lightening as she tries to match his enthusiasm.

She glances over at Burnstorm, catching her friend's strained smile and nod. It's not much, but it's enough to push her forward. She flicks her ears and nods back in acknowledgment before turning back to Coltkit, and now Littlepaw, who's shyly approached. She looks first to Leafhusk and tips her chin up obediently. "And you too, Littlepaw," She then adds with the lead warrior's blessing, her voice gentler now - even if the apprentice had mostly been talking to her father. "I'll show you both some moves that'll have you feeling like you could take on any challenge!" As she speaks, Stormywing can't help but notice Leafhusk's apprehensive gaze. She can guess what the lead warrior is thinking, but she pushes the thought aside for now. The kit needs something to focus on, something to give him confidence in this uncertain time.

"First things first," The warrior begins, stepping back and lowering herself into a crouch, striped tail lashing behind her. "Let's start with the basics. How about a front paw blow? It's all about balance and timing." Her eyes narrow in focus, and she gives a quick nod to Coltkit and Littlepaw. "Watch closely, and then you both can give it a try. We'll start slow, but by the time we're done, you'll both be ready for anything the forest throws at you." Assuming we'll get to go home. Shaking the thought away, the she-cat suddenly lunges forward and delivers a pair of powerful blows to the air in front of her, as if an imaginary enemy stands directly before her whose muzzle she scores. She keeps all of her weight on her back legs before dropping back to all fours, then looks at the younger cats expectantly.

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