private WHAT COMES NEXT // looking for a spar

[FORESTSHADE]

// @SHARPSHADOW

The bruises from her last scuffle with a nameless loner have mostly healed. She bore no scratches, as she doesn’t want to be scolded yet again by Starlingheart for her recklessness, leading to a request that both parties sheathe their claws in these spars. Bruises are easier to hide, except for the wincing when she moves the wrong way. With her body beginning to feel better, she craves another taste of adrenaline, her tail twitching with the need for battle.

Forestshade slips out the dirtplace tunnel feigning the need to go but strolling right past the spot. She knows no one is supposed to be out alone, but anyone has yet to find out about her secret excursions. And she can’t help that she’s bored! These fights with rogues are the only thing she looks forward to lately; they give her a taste of fun and excitement in an otherwise dreary routine of patrolling, hunting and training. If anyone knew, they’d just make her stop!

She’s nearing the northern thunderpath when she hears the scuff of paws against frozen mud. Sensitive ears pulling backwards, she jerks her head over her shoulder and parts her jaws to taste the air. “Mouse-dung,” She whispers through gritted teeth. “Sharpshadow, what are you doing following me? Go back to camp. I can take care of myself!” She huffs indignantly, turning fully around to face her friend.​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

What can we do? Chilledstar had asked, and Sharpshadow had wondered what the hell that had to do with him, a nobody that Chilledstar had suddenly decided was somebody, and that somebody didn't know how to feel about it yet. He was a part of it now, this collective that suddenly cared to keep others safe. What could he say? What could he do in the face of that?

And yet here she still is, trailing after her apparent fellow lead warrior with that very goal in mind: to make sure she doesn't get killed, or something equally stupid. What had at first became a trail he walked with disinterest, eyes squinted and ears pulled back, became more and more of aggravating interest as it became clear Forestshade wasn't just out to smell the flowers that would be dead in leaf - bare. She gives up on being secretive then, instead bristling in anticipation for when Forestshade would inevitably turn around. And so she does.

" I can take care of myself! " he mocks, high pitched and bratty. " Shut up. That's what you sound like. And I bet that's what Nettlepaw sounded like. And Comfreypaw, and Ashenpaw, and – and who knows who else. We do know who else." Silver eyes flit around the forest frantically, watching for any shadows that would suddenly become more than that. There must be at least one of them still around here, cats that knew the shadows well enough themselves to terrorize them all. " You're an idiot. What are you doing out here? " he shoots back.

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

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  SHARPSHADOW: he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms ; 20 moons old as of 2.13.24 ; ages every 8th
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

His mocking tone brings a low hiss from her jaws, her ears flattening in irritation. With her thick tail lashing unhappily behind her, she opens her jaws to retort only to snap them shut again. "Whatever," She huffs back to him. Sharpshadow is sooo annoying, she's better off just telling her to shut her trap than argue any further. Deep down, though, she does know there are dangers out here, dangers that Comfreypaw and Nettlepaw and Ashenpaw fell to. A good cat couldn't exactly blame Sharpshadow for worrying - if you could call it worrying.

With a wrinkle in her snout, she finally heaves a heavy sigh of defeat. She won't be able to get Sharpshadow to go away now, will she? "Come on," She finally utters, turning and heading towards the thunderpath again. If she can't get her friend to go away, he'll just have to come along with her. She pauses briefly by the thunderpath's edge and listens. No monsters coming. "Now!" She yowls to him before bounding across the acrid stone, not slowing until her paws touch grass on the other side.

After a bit more walking into unknown lands, she turns her muzzle slightly towards Sharpshadow and mews, "This is where I've been going. Before you say anything, just...hear me out, 'kay?" She huffs again and slouches as she walks. "Camp is so boring. I've learned every inch of the territory. I just wanted a bit of excitement. That's why I, uh, tried to fight with you, that other day. But out here, there's so many loners and rogues to spar with, and Sharpshadow, it's been so fun!" Her voice takes on an almost childlike quality as she explains her adventures, tail flicking to and fro.

When a new, fresh scent washes over her palette, she perks up, a grin spreading across her jaws. "Like him," She chirps, jutting her muzzle in the direction the wind is blowing from. "Hey! Stranger!" Without waiting for Sharpshadow, she strides confidently forward with her head and tail held high. Several fox-lengths in front of him, she stops and plants her feet in a wide stance, an arrogant smirk on her maw. "I wanna spar. You in?"​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ The sounds of two separate voices drift through the trees, and for a moment the tom wonders if he’s too close to the clearly-marked territory border. He hasn’t strayed too close since the last time he’d nearly had a run-in with a ShadowClan patrol, afraid of being found out and chased down. But he hears someone call out, and his paws freeze of their own accord. He’s clearly been noticed, though he can’t tell how. He’s grown adept at blending into the shadows, keeping each and every pawstep as silent as can be.

Mismatched eyes raise from the ground—but rather than the snarling face of some brute, what greets him is a stocky, smug-looking cat. She’s called him stranger, a good sign that she’s never seen him before, or at least doesn’t recognize him. "You want to spar?" His voice is skeptical—he is skeptical of this request, seemingly out of nowhere. He’d hidden from passing cats for seasons now, worried about what may happen if a wandering clan cat were to ever find him. To simply be asked to spar seems unthinkable. Does this cat truly have no ill intentions?

Still, the black and white tom sees no reason to deny her. He enjoys sparring, and the shadowy figure who trails along behind the torbie doesn’t appear to be aggressive yet. Stryker shrugs. "Sure. As long as you don’t plan on killing me afterward." He intends it to be a joke, his tone turning light and amiable; his mind is already made up. His gaze shifts to the tall, dark-furred cat, his own dark tail flickering with a burst of confidence. He does enjoy a challenge, and neither has lunged for him yet. The shorter one did extend an invitation to him instead of simply rushing him—maybe this could be fun. "If your friend wants to join in, though… I wouldn’t mind going two on one." He only hopes that they keep their claws sheathed, or at least allow him to escape without deep wounds. The carrionplace isn’t a great place in terms of cleanliness, and going back there with open wounds would only be asking for trouble.​

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[FORESTSHADE]

She can hear the skepticism in his voice, and responds with a toothy grin and a confident, "Yep!" He doesn't seem to be too opposed, eventually agreeing with what she perceives to be a morbid joke. She lifts an unsheathed claw to her teeth and picks at her fang for dramatic effect, acting nonchalant as she mews, "No promises." Hopefully, her lighthearted grin and amiable tone makes it clear she's joking. The tom even invites Sharpshadow to join the spar and Forestshade nudges her companion questioningly. You in? Her body language seems to read.

"Well in that case, I'll let you make the first move, stranger." The patched tabby pads forward a few steps before bracing herself, legs bent slightly and ears trained on the loner. Her whiskers twitch, ready to sense anything they might be able to, but what will really help her in this is hearing where he'll be coming from.​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ The fluffy patchwork warrior seems rather confident in herself—the hallmark of a great fighter, or a terrible one. Stryker is inclined to believe it’s the former, based upon her stature alone. Short but sturdy, she’ll certainly be difficult to knock off her paws—especially so soon after the cold, while his ribs still show through his pelt in some places. He isn’t in prime sparring form, but still he has no doubt that he could beat her if he tries his hardest. In response to her quip, he huffs out a breath of laughter. "Keep your claws outta me, and I’ll extend the same courtesy to you," he says with a flourish of a white-capped paw.

At last, the torbie settles into a battle stance, bracing her paws against the ground, and challenges him to make the first move. She presents an intimidating foe, sturdily built and sure of foot. "Alright," he says, and dips low to the ground. His pawsteps are careful as he slinks closer, watching for reactions from the other feline. When the distance between them shrinks to a fox-length, he finally makes a move. Suddenly changing direction, he darts toward her. Claws remain sheathed, but he aims to smack the molly upon her head. It isn’t a particularly hard blow, but opening the fight with all of his power would be a mistake. Whether or not his first strike hits, the time will retreat backward, attempting to get out of reach of her paws once again.​

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[FORESTSHADE]

Alright, She hears him affirm, and her muscles tense in preparation. Whiskers quivering with excitement, she forces her claws to remain in their sheaths as he'd promised. She doesn't want any more scoldings from Starlingheart about being more careful. Her mouth quirks up into a smirk as she waits...and waits...and waits...before WHAP!

A paw connects with her head, sending her off balance. Thanks to her burly stature, she doesn't go down easy, but she is knocked to the side and must catch herself. The look on her face must be priceless to any onlookers. "Wha-?" She stupidly says, jaws parted and blind eyes wide. She didn't even hear him coming! Like, not at all! She doesn't even attempt to give chase as he skitters away from her - she's still reeling from the silent approach he'd somehow made towards her.

Finally, she seems to snap back into focus, crouching once more. I'll just have to listen harder! She concludes, a look of determination on her face. With a growl, she charges forward in the direction of where she had heard him retreat to, hoping to ram into him with her shoulder. ​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Whatever. The thing is — It's not whatever. The thing is, there's a new evil lurking amongst the pine's at any given moment, and Forestshade's blind ass was way too eager to wander out in it. The thing is, Chilledstar had a rare soft spot for her, and they'd probably go Pitchstar crazy if anything happened to her or Serpentspine. The thing is, not a quarter moon after her apparent promotion, Forestshade was wandering to the edge of nowhere. The thing is, she wants to say they're friends, and then tell him things like... like... " Whatever? "

Oh, and she has the gall to look annoyed. Why doesn't Sharpshadow just leave her to be mauled by bears, shredded by Siltcloud, carried off by an owl, dumped in the river by Granitepelt. She has half a mind to turn around and go home, as Forestshade wrinkles her snout at him like he's the problem.

He doesn't, though. He doesn't. He nearly swallows his own tongue, trying not spit something at her.

Come on, she says then, like she gets to order him around. (He's following though, isn't he?) And suddenly, they're at the Thunderpath. " This is the opposite — " And then she's barking out an order, and the streak of brown - and - orange that is Forestshade dashing across the blacktop compels him to follow. Across a place he never wanted to see again, or feel again. And this time, it wasn't for some clan - saving remedy. It was for... It was for...

For what? She turns on Forestshade, spittle at her maw, and that's when Forestshade finds it the right time to say, hear me out, kay? The look Sharpshadow gives her is appalled.

Camp is so boring. Is that why we're here? I just wanted a bit of excitement, Is that why we're here? That's why I, uh, tried to fight with you, that other day. What. there's so many loners and rogues to spar with This can't be what we're here for. It's been so fun!

" You can't be serious! " she snaps. It means nothing. They call of Hey stranger! feels like Smogmaw plucking his nerves straight from his ears. " Are you crazy? " he strains. And for some reason, this rando says yes. It's the middle of Leaf - bare! Surely they had literally anything better to do? If your friend wants to join in... Sharpshadow stares like a ghost acknowledged by the living for the first time. Forestshade nudges her like she thinks it'll just be a grand old time. " Hell no! Forestshade — "

And then they're just going at it like it's any old spar. Face contorted into a look of absolute shock, Sharpshadow takes a shaking step backward, left to do nothing but wait. She couldn't just leave Forestshade here, left to potentially get... killed, or eaten by some beast. Not like Forestshade cared about her, or even herself for that matter. Sharpshadow should just go home. She should.

She doesn't though. The inevitable cross over the Thunderpath that looms invisibly behind, and invisble threats to Forestshade ahead keep her rooted in place.

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

• 
  
  

• 

• 
  SHARPSHADOW: he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms ; 21 moons old as of 3.11.24 ; ages every 8th
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ The blow connects, and his mouth stretches into a gleeful grin as the she-cat goes reeling for a few heartbeats. But then he catches a glimpse of her face, and the smile drops from his maw altogether. "Oh," he murmurs, understanding sinking in as he watches her expression change to one of confusion. She seems more confused than hurt, with her mouth hanging open in surprise. Dumbfounded, she looks. She doesn’t even follow after him as he retreats, and Stryker gets a moment to look at her—to truly study her face. Her eyes are green, but there’s something odd about the way that they look. They widen as she expresses her shock, but they don’t track him as he moves back. The pieces click together in his head, and the tom takes a deep breath in as he mentally catalogs his new finding.

The confident torbie who dragged her friend all the way out here, seemingly against her friend’s will, and challenged him so brazenly to a spar… is blind. It’s no wonder he’d been able to catch her so off guard, but something tells him that it will only work once or twice before she catches on, even without sight. A sense of sympathy begins to stir, but he shoves it away just as quickly as it comes—this spar has hardly even begun, and her dark-furred friend may seem mighty concerned, but he hasn’t stepped in yet. Oh, well. They can ignore their disapproving onlooker for now, at least.

Momentarily absorbed with his new discovery, the tom doesn’t quite have the time to dodge out of the way when she comes barreling toward him. Despite seemingly being unable to see him, she strikes him with her shoulder, throwing him harshly to the ground. Just as quickly, he hauls himself back to his paws, rolling his shoulders. He chuckles, "Geez, you hit hard. What do they feed you in ShadowClan?" These days, the clan likely lives off all the frogs and mice in the territory. It’s still better than what he eats, probably. But that doesn’t mean he can’t win this—as long as he keeps distance between them, and keeps his movements quiet, he can avoid any more blows from her sturdy frame.

But that wouldn’t be fun, now would it? His heart races, flanks heaving as he steadies himself to launch himself at her once again. Mismatched eyes narrow, and the tom rushes forth. This time, he swerves when he approaches her, darting behind her and attempting to grab at her tail and pull, hard. Not hard enough to truly injure her, he hopes—it’s just a spar, no matter how exhilarating it is,—but enough to knock her off balance again if she isn’t quick to react. This time, though, he doesn’t retreat after making his attack. Instead, he aims to bite at her scruff and pull, attempting to bring them both to the ground. This is fun.​

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[FORESTSHADE]

His jest puts a grin back on her face as she huffs proudly. "That ain't got nothin' to do with ShadowClan. That's pure Forestshade!" She growls, a playful lilt in her tone as her chest puffs out. Tail lashing, she briefly trains her ears back in Sharpshadow's direction to see if he's come any closer, but the lack of pawsteps indicates she's just where she left her. In that time, the tom has somehow made his way behind her, and she doesn't even hear his light pawsteps until he is directly behind her - she's been listening closer, since his first attack, but it still catches her off guard. "Oof!" She grunts as shes yanked backwards by her tail, effectively losing her balance enough so that when he takes her scruff in his jaws she is easily pulled to the ground on top of him.

"Woah!" She yowls, before fighting free to roll off of him. She spins to face him, blind eyes wide in surprise, and it seems her battle stance is gone. "What's your name?" She suddenly asks, intrigue lighting up her expression. "You're one of the most silent cats I've ever heard - how'd you get so light on your feet?"​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ That’s pure Forestshade, the she-cat claims, confidence shining through each of her movements. It’s only a shame that she doesn’t hear him coming until it’s too late, and he catches her off balance for long enough to take her down to the ground with him. She’s quick to scramble away, though, and he lets her go with ease—perhaps bringing her down to land atop his own body wasn’t the best idea in terms of strategy. When she turns to face him, her expression is one of shock and her stance has shifted from battle-ready to curious. "Heh," he pants out, a grin stretching broad across his face. He hasn’t had a good, friendly spar against any cat, especially a clan cat, since way back… before. Returning to the thrill of mock-battle is exhilarating, he’s quickly discovered. It’s all the fun of a fight, the adrenaline of battle, without the dark-winged danger of a life cut short hovering overhead.

The she-cat—Forestshade—asks his name, and as he allows his posture to relax, he answers coolly, "The name’s Stryker." Her follow-up question is how he moves so quietly, and the tom is struck with a wave of pride. "I’ve had… quite a bit of practice staying undetected." He offers no context to go along with the statement, and shrugs even though he understands that she won’t see the gesture for what it is. "It isn’t difficult. You could do it, too," he adds, lifting a paw and glancing down at it. In a way, it’s nice talking to this cat—there is no need to look her in the face when he speaks, and he is free to allow his gaze to wander as it will. Now, it settles on his own paw as it falls in a gentle motion to rest silently upon the ground once more.​

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

Forestshade listens, ears pressing forward. He tells her she could do it, too, and she huffs and puffs out her chest proudly. “I was named for my stealth, Stryker,” She boasts, although truthfully she’s unsure if she could actually defeat him in a game of silence. His light paws were pretty impressive. He’d fit right into ShadowClan with a skill like that.

As soon as the thought drifts into her head, she lights up, ears twitching as she whirls around to face Sharpshadow. “We’ve got to bring him to Chilledstar!” A wide grin stretches across her face before she turns back to face Stryker. “You ever wanted to be a warrior?” It doesn’t matter if Sharpshadow argues or not - her mind is made up. They could bring him to Chilledstar and gain themselves one pretty dang skilled warrior. Briefly, she thinks about whether or not this would upset her leader at all…but she quickly pushes it out of her mind. She and Chilledstar are closer than two frogs on a log - they’ll love this idea, surely! ​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ Forestshade once more takes a confident stance, standing proud as she retorts that her name means stealth, or something of the sort. Stryker’s got some idea of what the clan cats’ names are like, but he didn’t know they’re meant to represent skills or… something like that. "Well, your name’s fitting, that’s for sure. Didn’t notice you until you shouted at me." Probably that sightless hearing, he thinks lightheartedly, but doesn’t say aloud. He’d expected the she-cat to either accept his offer or turn him down, but instead she asks him whether he’s ever wanted to be a warrior, which is… a novel term. Is that what the clan cats call themselves? It’s a bit… inflated, isn’t it? They’re just cats, nothing close to the lions or tigers of legend.

Still, he knows he’s a subpar hunter—not that there’s hardly any food out here, anyway. Being a warrior, as silly as it sounds to call himself that, could… it could be for the best. "A warrior? Never considered it before, I’ll admit. What’s it like?" His tail twitches, brushing against rustling blades of grass, and curiosity lights his expression as he settles into his haunches.​

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

She doesn’t know if he meant to give her a compliment, but she doesn’t care. Her grin widens anyway, chest inflating even more if that was even possible. She doesn’t care who it is - whether it be stranger or friend, she never gets tired of hearing praise.

He asks about being a warrior and she flicks her tail dramatically as she begins, “It’s pretty great! Sharpshadow and I are lead warriors - that means we’re some of the big dogs, so if we bring you, our leader will have to let you in!” That’s not how it works, and she knows she’ll have an earful from Chilledstar about this, but she thinks it’s worth the risk to get a cat as skilled as Stryker into the clan. “You patrol borders, hunt for kits, and protect the clan. Easy!” She sits down and licks at a paw, before seeming to jolt with realization, “Oh, and follow the Warrior Code or whatever. There are rules you have to follow if you wanna stay. They’re easy - like don’t fall in love with cats from other clans and pray after every hunt and stuff.” She shrugs nonchalantly.​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ The she-cat’s explanation is a bit vague, with her main descriptor being that it’s great. Being a warrior sounds busy, but still… the idea of having someone, or an entire clan, to help watch his back is appealing. She says that the leader will have to let him in if she and her companion bring him, and he takes her at her word.

"Is that how it works…" he muses, tipping his head with intrigue. Patrolling and protecting doesn’t sound too bad—though the hunting is daunting for sure. Food in the carrionplace doesn’t exactly run away, and he isn’t the greatest at it to begin with. "Sure. If your leader would have me, then…" He takes a deep breath and nods sharply, his decision clear in the movement. He pauses, awaiting her response, and then realizes his mistake. "It sounds like I’d better start figuring out that Warrior Law, then."​

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

They're like kits, the both of them, throwing their weight around as if their mother would be bringing their prey to them, and they wouldn't have to worry about something as daunting as the outside world for moons, still. Sharpshadow efels as if she's been picked up and dumped in the middle of nowhere. No - Clan's - land — even if it was only a short run from the edge of ShadowClan's territory. It isn't if she felt safe there either, but this place creaked and groaned with an ominous sort of wind even their usual dump couldn't hope to match.

She has no idea when the situation goes from, lets hit each other for fun, to what's your name, stranger? There's a steady bristle to Sharpshadow's mismatch coat. Silver eyes dart between the two idiots before him, doing what they can't to discern where this was going— how this could... would, almost undoubtably get worse. Forestshade is suddenly spinning toward her as if something amazing has happened. Sharpshadow's hackles rise in anxious reply. " ...Why? " dubiously, he asks. She was the one picking a fight with this rando. No reason to see that this guy was chased down, or whatever, but— You ever wanted to be a warrior?

He's used up all his anger already. Now his answering. " Huh? " comes with all the conviction of an elder that couldn't remember their own name. Open mouthed, she turns to the stranger. Surely this guy would prefer his lawless land— nope, of course "Stryker" doesn't, cause that'd be way too damn soothing for her conscience.

It's pretty great, Forestshade says, and Sharpshadow would be very sure to simultaneously ooze a very unenthusiastic groan. Sharpshadow and I are lead warriors — so if we bring you, our leader will have to let you in!. His eyes stretch even wider, if that's even possible. His gape of shock is once again angled at, in this moment, the dumbest cat in this entire forest.

" She left out the part where you sightsee territories better than ours every day, " Sharpshadow chimes in with narrowed eyes, hoping maybe he'd up and leave to harass WindClan instead. They were hardly more than a pack of rogues themselves. " But I guess she wouldn't know about that. " he adds with a sniff. " She also forgot the part where she could very easily not be a Lead Warrior anymore, if I suddenly decide I like Chilledstar more than I like her, " he mutters. Of course... they both knew that was unlikely to happen. " I'm not vouching for you, " he makes that very clear while he still can. ​