WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF A RAGING FIRE // FERN

[MUDPELT]

// @FERNPAW set before the icky sicky

Half-blind to the world around him, Mudpelt dances sideways on his paws, dodging one of his son's lunges. He slips backwards with a grin. "Good, just move faster! You need to have more confidence!" Across his left eye, cobwebs are swathed, effectively making sure he sees exactly what Fernpaw sees. This is the way they have been training ever since the ginger tom had been able to leave the medicine den. After all, if he can't understand his son, he can't help him. And stars, had it been an adjustment! His depth perception is thrown off with the makeshift eye-patch on, his swings landing too short than what he is aiming for. It only makes him even more impressed by his apprentice; to see him adapt to life like this...it's for no weak cat.

With a dramatic roar, he leaps forward, aiming to tackle the red-furred tom into the sand. If he is successful, he will try to pin him there, paws placed firmly against the boy's shoulders.​

 

[FERNGILL]

It was an honour, really, how hard his father was trying with him. Fernpaw dreaded to face a reality where he had a different mentor, one who couldn't put up with his late-blooming abilities- one who'd given up on him as soon as it became clear he'd not be ready for warriorhood at the same time as his peers. As soon as he'd clashed claws with that fox, and lost with an emblem to prove it. He took after his father in at least one way though, and that was optimism.

For the future, they'd spar. And Fernpaw never pulled his punches, but now more than ever they were actually connecting. He wasn't a large figure who could shift powerful strikes; but his speed and balance had improved, and dodging was not as daunting as it had once been. Though his strikes weren't strong, more than ever he was succeeding in landing them.

Move faster. "Right!" Fernpaw said, back bristling in anticipation. More confidence. He'd never thought himself unconfident, but... the fox had dampened his belief, hadn't it? He'd heed his father's advice. It was difficult to dodge such a large body barrelling toward him- Fernpaw could not dive out of the way in time, back connecting with the sand, a dust-cloud embracing him. Not once did he let his mentor catch his blind side, though- a verdant gaze was kept steadfast upon the earthy tom.

Fernpaw attempted to use his speed to batter Mudpelt's nose with a series of strikes, aiming to then use a window of pain and confusion to slip out of his father's grasp. This was the sort of scenario where being small helped, after all...​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[MUDPELT]

Mudpelt braces himself as he hits the ground, his son pinned beneath him. But Fernpaw reacts quickly, assaulting the dark brown warrior's face with a barrage of blows. One of the blows is enough to knock away the cobwebs, correcting his vision in a matter of heartbeats. In his sudden, blinking readjustment, he had managed to wriggle out of his grasp. Mudpelt is left standing over the discarded pile of cobwebs, staring down at it in surprise before he looks back towards his son. A grin flashes across his face before he gives the young tom a playful wink and says, "Now you're fighting an opponent who has the sight advantage. But I know you can do it." He drops into a crouch and bares his teeth (although it's still more of a grin) before lunging forward again to give chase.​

 

[FERNGILL]

Sticky cobweb-residue hung limply from his paw, but Fernpaw hardly cared for the unpleasant sensation, purely focused upon the fact that he'd done it- he'd gotten out of a pin, just as he had been practicing. Triumph buzzed under his fur, but he knew he hadn't won yet- newly-measured determination kept him focused on the task at hand, rather than focusing on a faraway image in which he was a hero worthy of the highest respect. No, now he knew- he was Fernpaw, and he would show his father what Fernpaw was capable of.

I know you can do it, Mudpelt said- and Fernpaw believed him. A sight advantage, sure- but most of his opponents would. He was prepared for this moment as he was every other one- extensively. And though he would never be strong, he would never be exceptional- Fernpaw knew he could do it. Knew he could do enough. As Mudpelt surged toward him, Fernpaw scrambled backward- it was exhilarating to see his speed improved, well and truly. He didn't have much time to be stunned, though- distraction would only falter him. Keeping his father on his sighted side, not allowing the large tom to exit his periphery at any point, Fernpaw's movements in turn became erratic and unpredictable.

Anchoring himself to the ground by skidding backward, Fernpaw swiped at Mudpelt's legs with his two front paws, attempting to use as much of his below-average strength as possible to at least knock his mentor off balance- if not onto the ground.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[MUDPELT]

His son's movements aren't what they used to be. He is quicker, more agile on small paws that dance backwards. With pride, he can't help but notice how light on his toes he is, a trait Mudpelt himself displays in combat. But he doesn't let his pride distract him from acting as the serious opponent he needs to be. He pursues, but remarkably, he has trouble keeping up. Fernpaw's evasion is unpredictable and ever-changing, a path that Mudpelt thinks he knows before it's suddenly thrown off course.

He is so caught off-guard by the apprentice's movements that he has a delayed reaction when Fernpaw stops in his tracks and fiercely swipes out with both forepaws. Normally, Mudpelt might've been able to dodge the attack with ease, but the irregularity of the attack has been his downfall. His legs are knocked out from under him and the mighty warrior falls, landing on his side with a heavy thud and a grunt.​

 

[FERNGILL]

Maybe surprise, a small tom striking unpredictably with all his strength, was what lead him to victory. He'd learned fleetness from Mudpelt after all. Fernpaw could hardly believe it when he felt his strike connect, almighty as it was- he was so used to his attacks sailing by, failing to scathe anything at all. But- but he couldn't falter now. Wouldn't let himself get distracted- he'd tried so much to phase it out, the way he'd get whipped up into the ideal. Discarding his awe, for he hadn't yet won, Fernpaw moved quickly as his father toppled to the ground like a lightning-struck tree.

It took, again, both front paws- but Fernpaw rallied heavy weight against Mudpelt's shoulder, attempting to pin the large warrior to the floor with all the strength he had. It was a great effort, and as his teeth gritted with effort a lone verdant eye moved to glance at his father's face, a blatant attempt to appraise anything he could. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[MUDPELT]

Before Mudpelt can get to his paws there is a strong weight holding him against the dirt. He looks up to see Fernpaw with both paws against his shoulder, straining with all his might to keep him held there. With the sun shining down, lighting up his red fur into flames, the father can't help but think about how much his son has grown, and how far he's come. No longer is he that scrawny, patchy-furred, blue eyed runt he'd always loved and cherished. He is grown, with smooth muscle beneath a now full pelt, strength in his singular eye as he pins the warrior.

A breathless laugh, proud and sure, "You win." His grin is wide as he stares back up at his son and apprentice. "You pinned me, son." For the first time ever.​