private WOLF IN YOUR LIVING ROOM ✦ figfeather

[DOEBLAZE]

The shallow wounds dealt to her cheek are already starting to scab—luckily, the shag of her cheek lies flat over the cuts. StarClan knows that half of her face is already enough of a mess without adding some more scars to the mix.

But her mind's not on her injury, not anymore—she's thinking of the easy way @FIGFEATHER had lunged into the fray, knocked that black ThunderClan apprentice up and down. It'd had the sort of quick strategy her own fighting distinctly lacked. She always felt like some kind of cornered animal—just swinging tooth and claw, not much in mind beyond getting away.

" Figfeather? " Her scratchy accent pulls the name into long syllables. Dusk bathes the pines, filtering red light over the snow; it has been a scarce couple hours since the end of their impromptu battle. It rolls, blood-rich, across the landscape, painting the frosted ground waxen. An apt color, given the day's events; or so she thinks. " You mind havin' a word about our little battle? Thought your tactics were pretty good. "

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[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather was biting at a clump of knotted fur when Doeblaze approaches her. She glances up and greets the she-cat with a look that says 'hello, what is it?'

Thoughts of the skirmish with ThunderClan come rushing back to her. Her own wounds she carries on her shoulder and flank have begun to scab too and would be fully healed in no time.

"Yeah, we're lucky we got off as light as we did." The ThunderClan cats had flooded out from their forest like a swarm of bees to protect their disturbed hive. Figfeather thinks Slatesnarl secured his catch just in time, any heartbeat later and they would've been overwhelmed.

"Most of my tactics require luck." She confesses, "I'll always be a much better hunter... but if you really think you have something to learn from me..." She trails off, in and out of her own thoughts, "...then I can try to explain what I do."

First, "It's mostly speed and observing your opponent. Find any weak spots; a missing eye, a burned shoulder, a fresh wound... a crippled leg..." She flops her mangled leg over as if to use it as an example. "Then I explot that weakness with everything I've got... but most cats show up to a battle perfectly healthy with all their legs working. So... I'm instantly at a disadvantage." Again, she was doomed to be a better hunter and strategizer, she'd never be the strongest cat out on the battlefield.

"When this happens, if I'm lucky I can use surprise to my advantage, like I had with that apprentice. In those situations, I'll risk it and go in swinging." Which had nearly been a fatal mistake; that apprentice had backup get to it faster than she could blink. "In most cases my opponent knows I'm coming, so I tire them out instead. Sometimes I won't even try to make a hit on 'em until several heartbeats into a fight. I fake moves, dart around them, keep their mind racing and get them panting. It's the only way I'll stand a chance against most able-bodied warriors."

She licks her shoulder almost embarrassed, "Really though, I'm far from the best cat to offer any sort of advice... In the heat of the moment, I often just... wing it. I guess." Figfeather shrugs, "If Slatesnarl hadn't called for a retreat when he had I would've been crowfood. I ended up having a warrior and two apprentices all on me at once."

 

[DOEBLAZE]

" Ain't that the truth, " she rumbles scratchily in reply to her younger colleague. The ThunderClanners had a way from seeping out from the trees' shadows like a pack of wolves, all silver and tawny fur and bared teeth. There'd been three of them at least on Figfeather alone; for all intents and purposes, she's lucky to have gotten off so lightly. Hell, Doeblaze'd gotten carved up just handling one of 'em.

" I'm sure I do. I've got plenty to work on in that department, myself, " she murmurs, amusement burbling under her voice like water beneath an old bridge. She's gotten thrashed by her own Clanmates in the Sandy Ravine enough times to know she's got more than plenty to improve upon. " Hit me with it. "

Attentively, she listens, torn ears tilted forward expectantly, marking time with the sun dipping across the horizon. Red light throws both of them into sharp relief as she nods along, thinking … that golden ThunderClanner had gone for her bad side, after all. " Me too, " she murmurs thoughtfully in agreement.

" Well, you wing it a sight better than I do, I can tell you that much, " she mutters, hoarse and amused. " I think I get what you're sayin', though. I've never done that much thinkin' before going in, and I'm startin' to think I ought to. " She sighs, steam trickling in wisps from the corners of her lips.

She pauses. " You mind sparrin' me? Put some of those techniques into practice? " Doeblaze meets the other's gaze with her own level one. " Seein' as we're both workin' with some limitations, could be helpful. 'Course you don't have to, especially if those cuts're givin' you too much hell. "

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[FIGFEATHER]

A spar? Figfeather tenses, uncertain if she feels like humiliating herself today. Though she's been a warrior for moons, she can still hear her mentor as if she's descended from StarClan to tell her "Little miss, it's important to keep all of your skills sharps. You shouldn't pass an opportunity to practice."

"…Okay, Tallulahwing." Her inner voice sighs. Figfeather gives Doeblaze a reluctant nod, "Sure, we can." She meows, "Cuts are mostly just scabs now… Not causing me any pain. Just try not to reopen them." She smiles before padding somewhere in camp with a bit more space.

Once they were both settled and an agreement to begin the spar was made, Figfeather lowers herself to the ground. Her good haunch ready to dodge or leap out of the way as she begins to prowl around Doeblaze, awaiting an attack. This was part of her tactic in battle, to predict what her opponent was going to do, dodge their attacks a few times, tire them out. She doesn't know if it'll work on a cat whose she just told this too, but she's curious to find out.

 

[DOEBLAZE]

" Will do. I think Fireflyglow'd have my head on a stick if I gave him any more work right now, anyways, " she heeds with a brisk nod and a cracked chuckle. Coming up on three-quarters of a moon since the whole thing with her ex-mate, and the slightly hoarse quality of her voice has shown no sign of fleeing yet, though it's eased some. A right-there reminder of exactly why she could stand to brush up on her combat.

Figfeather's unique brand of battle might have gotten her out of that sort of a … bind? Problem? There's no good word for it and she elects to leave it with the more benign title of thing. Regardless, if this leaf-bare's first tidings are any indicator, trouble is far from over the horizon for SkyClan. If they can't shoulder through the problem, they'll have to think their way around its looming and nebulous shadow. Thinking like Figfeather's could be helpful, certainly.

It's easy to sort out the rest from there, and soon enough Figfeather's prowling the usual battle circle. Trying to remember what the marmalade tabby had said, her good eye flicks quickly over her fellow lead warrior. Her damaged leg is obvious enough, and so are her fresh wounds—though in a practice spar, she won't be taking advantage of that. Her motions are low and alert, and Doeblaze feels her own limbs tightening in kind.

She pushes her tensed muscles to relax. Racing mind, panting breaths, Figfeather had said. It made sense … Doeblaze often found herself overcome by some blind prey-animal impulse in the heat of battle, making her limbs liquid and clumsy and slowing her head. Leftovers from the battle that had taken her eye, maybe …

She shakes herself. Not the time! Doeblaze readies herself and darts forward, swiping at Figfeather's muzzle as if she were up against a dog.

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