under the blade // ramwind

[icebreath]

TAGS — It's rare for the little lynx point to wander the moorlands with no aim in mind; restlessness usually sends her down into the tunnels where work can take over and wash away her anxieties. But as the sun sets and the surface becomes more comfortable for her sensitive eyes with the accompanying dimness, Icebreath finds herself fixating. This isn't something she can ignore forever, after all — she'll have to start training Cottonpaw in the ways of combat sooner or later, even if she can get away with focusing specifically on tunnel navigation for now. Her apprentice needs to learn how to defend herself, how to fight valiantly for WindClan like a true warrior; even if tunnelers aren't expected to be as advanced in this aspect as moor runners, perhaps even clumsy above ground, their clan never seems to go very long without running into conflict with one of their neighbors and all paws are needed for these things. Especially if the moors are raided; it almost feels inevitable considering how many camps WindClan has plundered, how many clans they've infuriated despite the necessity of it all. The thought of sending Cottonpaw into battle with Icebreath's sure-to-be lackluster training under her belt is incredibly stressful.

When a familiar tangle of rushes blocks their path, they push their way through them and peer down into the sun-warmed pool. Owlishly wide eyes stare back at her, and her furrowed brow gives them an almost fearful quality. There's hardly any muscle to be seen on her wiry frame, and she looks and feels like a kitten. Obviously she's decent enough for Nightmareface to have allowed her warrior promotion, but just barely — that's how it feels, at least, especially when her 'skill' more so lies in underground fighting. She doesn't want to limit Cottonpaw like that, doesn't want her apprentice to wind up stuck in this same ditch.

They suck in a sharp breath, exhale a sigh, and start to pace.

@RAMWIND !
​

 

[RAMWIND !]

MAY I STAND UNSHAKEN AMIDST THE CRASH OF THE WORLD ✧​

unlike the worrying tunneler, ramwind is always above ground. he's too big for those tunnels anyways, and he's sure his claws would be much too clumsy to make anything of merit in the dirt. his eyes are upon them, nothing unusual. ever since his punishment was put in her paws, ever since she actually spoke up about his treatment of others. it landed icebreath in his sights, and for once, it's not a bad thing. he watches her, throughout the days. watches them with their apprentice, bumbling paws that know nothing of battle. unlike ramwind, who had been fighting since he opened his eyes.

his behavior is known throughout the camp. some loose cannon with a nasty bite. he still wears a shit-eating grin when he bothers thunderclan's borders, remembering the golden tom he tore into. of course, his own marks are still displayed proud, simply covered with a lie to avoid any fury of his leading warriors and leader. icebreath, on the other paw, is nothing like this. no, they're good, smart, kind. something respectable, maybe, in those tunnels of theirs. he wish he could see her in action, but can only imagine the vastness that lay under him, keeping the ground surprisingly sturdy.

a pebble is flicked in ice's direction, meant to disrupt their pacing. he can practically taste their worries on his tongue, and that is bothering enough. and if something bothers the tom, he faces it head-on. "listen, icey, ya' scarin' t'birds. what's wrong with ya'?" a reference to the grouped thrushes that had taken a fearless path in front of him, fleeing from some tiny cat. his drawl has a light tease to it, but nothing promising harm. curious, sure. worried, definitely. not that it'll come off his tongue.

he towers her, always had. perhaps ram uses his height to his advantage, and he definitely throws his weight around for intimidation amongst the younger warriors and apprentices. he's big, some overgrown runt and he knows it. but at the very least, it makes cats look at him. and he's forcing their attention on him, crowding her. vying for an answer.​

 

[icebreath]

TAGS — A sudden sensation against her leg makes the feline jump, short fur bristling from the shock, though after a moment she looks down to see nothing more than a pebble resting on the ground. Her gaze is almost immediately drawn back upward by a voice; already widened eyes remain so as Ramwind approaches, an unexpected face in this moment both because of her tunnel visioned space-out and their lack of a friendship. And yet he asks what's wrong, evidently picking up on her anxiety. They quell their surprise with the more practical realization that it's likely a product of frustration rather than concern; had she spoiled a hunt? She hadn't even noticed the thrushes in their ascent, drowned out by her thoughts. "Oh- sorry," they reply sheepishly, large ears lowering and eyes wandering off to the side.

Ramwind looms over her with their close proximity, and she's acutely aware of it, the disparity between them. Whether he intends it or not, the intimidation is successful — though she's low-hanging fruit, truth be told. There's also the fact that it's difficult to deny there being anything wrong when he so obviously knows it. She's clearly never been the best at concealing these things; the amount of cats who have approached her to check in, the majority not even being close friends, is starting to become a bit alarming. Embarrassing, too.

But is it safe to talk about her troubles? To own up to her emotional weakness, to admit that she's stunted in the ways of combat? Especially to a cat like Ramwind, confrontational as he is? She thinks about how unsatisfying it felt to deny there being anything wrong when asked by Snailpaw and Strawmoon and leave it at that. And this time her anxiety is far worse, because now there's a real problem, unlike the lingering stress after the SkyClan raid. This one will actually have consequences if not helped, both for herself and for her apprentice. And most WindClanners are normal and actually have a good grasp on combat; there's certainly help to be found, she thinks. Hopefully. "I'm nervous about training Cottonpaw to fight," they hesitantly admit. "...Tunneling's, um, more my strong suit." A reassurance that they aren't entirely useless.
​

 

[RAMWIND !]

MAY I STAND UNSHAKEN AMIDST THE CRASH OF THE WORLD ✧​

the poor creature jumps, and his muffled laughter is poorly concealed at best. he's watching her for further information, suprisingly observant despite his nature. icebreath had always been timid, the type to let others walk all over them. it's sad to watch, and even worse considering that she is his clanmate. what's even worse is that he's never felt the need to bully them. maybe ice was just too pitiful to harass, and had lead to ram actually looking out for a weaker clanmate. embarassing.

he's settled at this point, rump to the ground and watching them. a sharp enough gaze to keep icebreath firmly within his sights, but nothing else. no sense of fury, or anger. and when icebreath actually reveals the cause of their worries, he has to nip at his tongue to keep his amusement down. "ya' dirt-lovers don't have'ta fight. that's our job." with the words, his chest puffs with pride. he's the strength of windclan, first on the front and last to leave any battle. his life is devoted to the very moors that had raised him.

though, his overconfident attitude simmers down a bit as silence permeates. "listen..." the voice tempers down, no longer teasing. he is without apprentice, likely a good thing. ramwind had enough foolish courage for the clan. if he had taught a moldable mind, total chaos may reign. though it doesn't hide the fact that he's slightly envious of icebreath's. he's good enough to be a mentor, really. or at least, make a strong cat for windclan.

"why don't i show you some simple things? y'don't have to teach cotton how to take down any brute, just enough so they can be safe." it's an offer with no downside. ram always craves brutality, an excuse to bare fangs. and the poor tunneler before him struggles with even speaking up for themselves. he holds up a paw to her, claws safe in their sheaths. a showcase of true sincerity. in case icebreath was worried about his ire turning to them. ​