private THE PEOPLE WILL CALL ME REX ✧ Moonpaw

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

“I’m sorry.”

The lead warrior does not turn to face Moonpaw as the two of them make their way through the forest. Her namesake swims amidst pale clouds above them, waning now after the Gathering. Raccoonstripe’s voice is quiet, nearly drowned out by cicadas and crickets. Branches creak above them; there’s a flavor of storm in the air, and the greenleaf atmosphere is heady, staticky, warm. “Were it not for this foolish injury, you’d be a warrior beside Burnstorm, and you would not have been passed up by Howlfire.” He wonders if she burns with resentment—with jealousy—or if she is as cold beneath the frost of her eyes as she seeks to portray.

He wants to find out.

“Regardless, you are no less a warrior than they are. You have come a long way from the whimpering, sniveling kit you were when you left the nursery.” His voice is flat, devoid of the pride a mentor might normally hold for their apprentice—or an uncle for their niece. “Moonkit was the shadow to a brighter sun. Moonpaw—and the warrior you will be—you are no one’s shadow. Not mine. Not hers. Not anyone’s.” He continues, brisk: “You will never be anyone’s shadow again.”

His tail begins to flick with irritation. His tabby flanks twitch. When Raccoonstripe breaks their silence, when he comes to a stop beneath the a clearing full of moonlight and forest shadow, he says, “Your assessment is now. Failure is not an option.” An edge fangs his words. “You will impress me if it takes you until sunhigh tomorrow, or longer. We will not face Howlingstar until I can confidently recommend you to her as a warrior.” He smiles, but it’s brittle. “I will not be embarrassed, Moonpaw.”

A heartbeat. Two. Three. Several. An owl hoots somewhere—an omen, though he is not his brother; he does not know if it’s fortuitous or otherwise. Raccoonstripe says, “You will hunt me. You will stalk me unnoticed, whether by tree or concealed in the undergrowth. And you will take me down by any means necessary. But be warned…” He half-turns to look his kin in her pale blue eyes for the first time since entering their territory, “…once I spot you—once your cover is blown—I will fight you until one of us is too exhausted to keep standing.”

He will wait for some acknowledgment for her, and then he will pad away until his burly tabby body is wreathed in shadow.

// @Moonpaw

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — raccoon . raccoonstripe
  — he/him ; lead warrior of thunderclan
  — heteroflexible ; single
  — long-haired black tabby with white and dark brown eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Rai

​

 

[Moonwhisper]

"It's fine." Her words are clipped, she's bothered but not so much to make a fuss over it and it isn't like Raccoonstripe wanted to be injured, it isn't like any of them wanted Howlingstar to die the way she did so graphically in front of them. She wonders if she's becoming desensitized to it, this felt like it hurt less than seeing her fall at Sunningrocks in what felt like a lifetime ago. Moonpaw doesn't like how used to this she is becoming. The mention of her sister's name has her hackles raise, head dipped low and a growl of annoyance in her throat, "That SkyClan has lower standards for their warriors has little to do with me and more to do with the untrained kittypet they let parade about their territory. I'm better than Howlfire, even now I'm better than her. And I'll prove that to you today."

If she takes insult to his commentary she does not react, does not so much as wince in response. Moonpaw is no one's shadow. Not his, not anyones...
Not hers.
Her throat tightens, it had been a while since she thought of her sister, her twin, the sunshine to her moonlight; the cheer to her fear. What would Morningpaw think of her now? Who she had become? The kind of cat who rejected family and embraced clanhood, the sort of cat who would strike their own sibling or father at a border for the sake of ThunderClan. She didn't think Morningpaw would like her much anymore for the way she was now, but she also found that strangely she didn't care. The opinions of ghosts shouldn't matter to her, she was stronger than her sister had been now and ever and she would earn the name the other never got the chance to because of SkyClan.
The tortie point does not flinch to the demands, the insistence that she be perfect, that she do as instructed. She agrees.

Moonpaw nods, watches him leave and stands there for a few moments in silence; mentally preparing herself, before she turns to and breaks for the nearest foliage to crouch within and consider her options. She can climb, its unlikely he'd expect something from above but the very idea of using a SkyClan battle technique twisted a knot in her chest so tight she wanted to scream. No, she would not be doing that. Something else then...
The girl creeps through the undergrowth, her pale coat does not lend well to cover so she keeps to the shadows of branches overhead, remains dappled in the faint droplets of light that manage to filter through them-the spotting of if it all blends into her fur; she is moonlight itself, elusive and silent. Raccoonstripe wants her to ambush him, he wants her to use all her skills to sneak up and take the first strike but she is a good hunter already and he knows this. Hunting had never been an issue for her, stealth had never been an issue for her, she was capable of both so she had been surprised when the assessment was arranged this way. Part of her considers stalling her hunt as long as possible, when day breaks and she can land one strike that would suffice enough for the challenge set supposedly but she finds she dislikes the idea. Something about the entire thing bothers her but she continues to stalk after him trying to find an opening...

It feels like hours pass. What she expected was a fight, what she wanted was a fight. Unsheathe her claws and show Raccoonstripe what she was truly made of uninhibited. She can just make him out at a distance from where she was inching along now finally, his dark stripes vanish in the forest; the only indication he is a living being and no mere apparation is the glint of amber eyes in the dark. It would be easy to move a little quicker and catch him offguard just ahead where the trees thicken and the bushes cling tight to the trunks of them, but she keeps moving even further until she finds a small clearing ahead of the thicket with no cover at all. He is heading there now it seems, the sky above is lit with stars and she can see clearly in this one spot uncontested by the forest itself. Moonpaw does not know what compells her to rise to stand then, stalk forward to the dead center of the place illuminated by her namesake and visible for all to see, but it is there she stands with her head up and waiting for him to break through the treeline. She is done skulking about in the dark for an opening to come, she is done following him like a little shadow..
'I don't want your gift of an advantage.'
The moment his head breaks the treeline and he has a second to spot her she is charging forward to brandish her claws right into his face.
​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Moonpaw has always been an obedient apprentice, even when she shows her sullen side. He has not expected her to break cleanly from the darkness and to stand in a clearing, pale fur illuminated by the moon that crowns her with silver frost. The tabby’s face bears an immediate scowl at her defiance, but there’s interest glimmering in his eyes, stoked like hot coals. She did not want the easy assessment he’d tried to give her. She wants to prove herself in the way she feels she never has. She wants a display of strength, a showdown against the mentor who has browbeaten her since kithood.

He smiles. It’s half-wicked. He detaches himself from the treeline and skulks toward her, adrenaline flushing through his veins. Every step is quiet, but he loses the advantage of stealth the moment he bounds toward her. His paws thump heavily against the soft forest floor. “Your arrogance will be your downfall,” he hisses, unsheathing his claws and launching himself at her; his reach is long, and he aims to crash both forelimbs onto her shoulders to drag her down.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — raccoon . raccoonstripe
  — he/him ; lead warrior of thunderclan
  — heteroflexible ; single
  — long-haired black tabby with white and dark brown eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Rai

​

 

[Moonwhisper]

She says nothing, she has nothing she wishes to say and so her words remain lodged fitfully in her throat; she is mute once again, but this time it is not grief that weights her down. It is rage.
Arrogance, He breathes, he mistook her for a fool. Arrogance was ignorance feigning confidence; she was anything but. She was surefooted, ironwilled, she would not bite back with words but rather her teeth. Moonpaw did not come here to have witty banter, she came her to put him on the ground; a penance for his time in the medicine cat den, payback for every snide remark, for delegating her to mere kitsitter when she could be doing other things more productive with her time. She had held it all in, bit her tongue, minded herself like the diligent apprentice she was but now she was given the reprieve she so desperately seeked. She wanted him to ache come morning, wanted him to remember her claws.
Maybe moons before she might not be so bold, but she was as big as he almost now; her one gratitude to Blazestar being the size he had passed down upon her but she would not waste it like he did. She would put her formidable stature to proper use.
His limbs are just a touch longer than hers, if they collide he will strike first and she responds by slamming downward onto the ground so his reach moves past her ears and she is given the chance to thrust claws upward to his own chest - she did not need to win. He had said as much, but that didn't mean she would accept anything less than the first draw of blood in her favor.
​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

She moves quickly—and he’s surprised by it, knowing the lumbering gait of her father has been trained out of her. With precision, her claws cut upwards, splicing into the white fur of his chest. A faint wetness seeps, accompanied by the sting of her victory. Raccoonstripe skids on the forest floor just a mouselength past her, kicking up leaf litter and forest debris. His eyes shine in the moonlight. “Nice move,” he rasps, his tail lashing with excitement. “Perhaps you’re not as meek as you come off.”

Moonpaw doesn’t entertain his banter, and he doesn’t expect her to. He’s not the type to keep silent in battle—but even as his mouth runs, his eyes are watchful, observant of her posture, of the ice in her eyes. She is determined to win—to pay him back, he thinks with a grin. His next move is not as quick as hers had been, but there is power behind his stride. He aims to body slam her from the side and knock the wind out of her lungs, and if successful he will try to pin her to the forest floor with claws unsheathed.

// we don’t have to continue this since she’s a warrior now but just in case you wanted to ^^

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — raccoon . raccoonstripe
  — he/him ; lead warrior of thunderclan
  — heteroflexible ; single
  — long-haired black tabby with white and dark brown eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Rai

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