sink to your heart | training

[SMOKESTAR]

His skills law in very specific paths, he was not a word smith by any means and could not speak with the eloquence of their leader nor did he have a particularly mothering quality that might lend to communicating with the youth as easily as Willowroot might. What Smokethroat was capable of and skilled in was pure combat, the singing of claws through the air, the adrenaline of clashing with an opponent and knowing if you faltered you might very well die. He excelled in it, thrived in it, bathed in the delight of conquest and victory and learned from his defeats if he was allowed to survive them. Iciclepaw was a gifted enough hunter on her own already, it had been their first focus and he had been hesitant to move onto combat training initially given her worry over accidentally harming the molly but she had proven herself sturdy and able to withstand thus far. Their first training session had left him little room to worry over her wellbeing when he was trying to keep her from clawing off his ears; a good start overall.
She would surely have an advantage now, he was still adjusting to having only one eye and would occasionally turn his head fully to the side to try and focus on something and he had startled one too many kits and apprentices who approached his blindside and learned that was not something they should repeat in the future. It was irritating, but he would cope with it. A victory won without sacrifice was hardly a victory anyways and he thinks of Buckgait's comment that he has not proven his loyalty again only to find it boils his blood and makes him irritable. If he is disloyal to her then she was the dirt beneath their paws, guarded prior to her promotion and abusing her power out of pettiness. Smokethroat's lips curl at the thought, he would not attack a clanmate but if she tried to pull a Sootstar on any level he'd kill her where she stood.
The thoughts heated him, made his fur prickle and he shifted his paws where he stood waiting patiently for the apprentice to arrive. She had been grabbed for a patrol prior so this had been delayed somewhat, but he was confident they would still make good progress. This was as much training for her as it was for him now, he needed to make sure his edge in battle had not been taken with that eye.

-- @iciclepaw
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[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw has not engaged in combat training since the first time, before Smokethroat had sparred with the WindClan lead warrior and lost his eye. She finds herself wishing for their hunting patrol to end soon so she can seek Smokethroat out -- they'd caught almost nothing, and the tortoiseshell needs to burn some energy, needs to find some success in her day before retiring.

When they cross into their camp, Iciclepaw seeks him out by the pitch-black pelt, the single burning flame of an eye. She meets it with her two pale blue, giving him a nod. "I'm ready to go. The hunting patrol was a bust." Disappointment colors his voice, though it's hidden beneath noncommital layers.

It takes her only a heartbeat to continue. "This is going to be different now, isn't it?" She looks pointedly at the scarred-over socket of his missing eye. "And I've fought in one battle now, and I didn't do too bad. But next time..." She sets her jaw. "Next time I want to give WindClan something to remember me by."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[SMOKESTAR]

"They haven't been very lucky as of late.." He remarks, discouraged at the news of another hunting patrol coming back empty and leaving the struggling clan with even less food than before. It is a worry that gnaws him constantly, his own hunger a sharp reminder of what the clan lacked. But it is a worry he can't allow to distract him here-they had other things to focus on at the moment.

'This is going to be different now, isn't it?' It's said without malice nor sympathy and he witholds the smirk he wants to answer with, the declaration that it changed nothing because that would have been a lie. It changed several things, it was something for them both to adapt to and strangely enough him moreso than she. Training wouldn't stop, it would push forward no matter what trial the clan was attempting to overcome because he would not see his apprentice die to folly that could've been prevented. She'd been in one battle, their side had overwhelmed the other easily giving them an edge but the future fights may not be so merciful. Smokethroat grimaces as he recalls the SkyClan leader's despondent voice at a previous gathering, lamenting his lost daughter in a broken tone. Iciclepaw was not his child and he did not treat her as such, but he would be damned if she ended up another body in a skirmish.
Her voice is determined as she insists she wants to be better, leave her own scars on WindClan hide and it is this that finally breaks the half smile across his maw. "A good attitude. But yes...this will be very different. This is for both of us. You've more experience and you know what your strengths are but, more importantly..." He raises his white dipped paw, presses it over the hollowed scar where his left eye once was, "...you know your opponent's weakness in advance and I encourage you to take advantage of it. We can not afford to show our enemies mercy." He rises to stand, gestures with a nod for her to get into position to begin, "And I can not afford to let any who would face me think they have the upperhand." But...he would need help with it. Perhaps later he would seek out another warrior as well, but Iciclepaw was a good start. Training for her and himself.
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[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw sees the faint half-smile that twists his features, and she returns it with a smirk of her own. "This is for both of us." Her white-spotted mentor tells her the training's purpose is twofold -- for her to learn how to exploit weaknesses, and for him to learn to eliminate that weakness or at least use it to his advantage.

"Sounds difficult," she says, appraising him. "But we'll not get anywhere chatting away." Upon the sandy earth of their training cove, the tortoiseshell plants all four white-dipped paws in the loose sand and tenses her body.

This is reminiscent of their first battle practice session, where Iciclepaw had been careless, despondent. Her drive has grown with her moons under Smokethroat's tutelage -- just like he does, there are cats she must protect now, territory she was born to defend.

Her tail begins to lash haphazardly, both with excitement and frustration as she attempts to pinpoint her first move. She can't take too long -- that lesson has cost her before. Smokethroat does not play the sitting duck.

After a moment, Iciclepaw charges, aiming to propel herself underneath Smokethroat and attempt to up-end him. She's about his size now -- gone are the days of her kittenish body, awkward and gangly. She's refined, muscle hardening like steel beneath her tortie pelt, and she tries her hardest to knock her mentor off of his paws.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[SMOKESTAR]

Still bossy as ever, a trait that had been his ire at first but he now found a fondness for the straightforward nature of the tortie. There was never any miscommunication, they both wore themselves quite openly on the heart for all to see; Smokethroat never guarded himself or his words and she had, in turn, grown as brutally honest as he had if not worse.
He's wondering how much hestiance will there be in her paws now and is quickly delighted to find none, Iciclepaw moves before he even speaks to encourage it, darts forward with direction and speed; she does not take immediate advantage of his blindside as he expected but instead moves to simply displace him. Smokethroat tenses, choosing instead to simply allow her to slam into him than make any move to dodge; he wanted to see what he was working with proper after all. Leaf-bare had been hard on them all, cats withering down to pelts clung tight over ribs and muscles softening as the cold forced them to a more sluggish and dreary lifestyle. But to both his surprise and excitement she did not bounce back from his hardened stance and pushed forward, he felt his claws scrapping the ground to hold him forward but the force of the hit had caused him to falter briefly all the same. Iciclepaw had nearly pushed him over, a combination of her growth and his own hubris had nearly sent him toppling and he knew she could probably sense it so he responded in-turn with a twist to pull himself away from the close proximity to swing a sheathed and heavy paw right to the side of her face with enough force a less skilled apprentice would be knocked for a daze and left on the ground.
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[iciclefang]

She had shown her own hubris in not going for Smokethroat's blind side -- he is not uprooted, like she had hoped, and his sheathed paw clubs her against her profile. Iciclepaw blanches at the heaviness of the blow, but she does not hesitate -- she will wear the bruise as a testament to her folly. The tortoiseshell does not make the same mistake twice -- he had called her here to test his skills half-blinded, and she sets her sights on the side where Weaselclaw had carved the amber orb from its socket.

Iciclepaw readjusts herself before jerking back towards Smokethroat, lifting her left paw to match her mentor's blind side. She attempts to bring that paw heavy and hard to the scarred side of his face.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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