storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Jan 13, 2024 22:19:21 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/bzu3iZG~png It was early morning, as the apprentice crawled from the den. His pale pelt shined against the snowy sun, only providing a little bit of warmth against the harsh winter's breeze. Still, he didn't show that it bothered him. Nothing bothered him, he had to show it to everyone. Especially with the scar on his head. Wheatpaw waltzed over to the fresh-kill pile after knocking some other apprentices out of his path, before settling on a pheasant. A scrawny pheasant, but it would have to do. As the slender tom settled to eat, it was when Sheepfeather had returned from a small trip to the river to gather moss with water for some elders, probably at Maplefrost's request. The tom gave his son a sweet smile, before settling next to him. It was normal parent-son conversation, nothing out of the ordinary. But increasingly boring to the youngster. Sheepfeather then said his goodbyes, before jumping into his next patrol. If only Mom liked Sheepfeather, then maybe she would give me a chance.Wheatpaw discarded the bones of his pheasant before looking around the camp. Hillfoot had warned him last night that it wouldn't be until the evening until they could train, due to a patrol spending the day at RidgeClan's border. Something about checking to see if there were any new clues to Littlestar's disappearance. Whatever, seemed boring to him. Before he could write off the day as being a day to himself, another cat came into his vision. Coyotepaw. That little mouseheart. If it wasn't for him, then he wouldn't have this ugly, disgusting scar down his head. Maplefrost said that it would likely not heal, which only served as a permanent reminder of his weakness. Cinderstar had scolded him for attacking a kit, but now that same kit was an apprentice. All was fair now. The lean tom bounded up toward the apprentice, before suddenly halting in hopes to splash the other tom with icy snow. "Hey there, kittypet," Wheatpaw hissed, with obvious disgust lacing every word of his tone. "Hope you don't mind a little cold. Otherwise, I'm sure that you and your mom can run back to the Twolegnests for warmth." A mocking laugh came from his maw, as his claws scrapped against the dense and firm ground. |
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Post by adrian on Jan 21, 2024 11:50:23 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/x79vLh0/coyotepaw~png Coyotepaw would never admit to a soul that nearly every morning, he waited until Wheatpaw had already left the den before exiting himself. It wasn't that he was afraid. But scratching his stupid, ugly head had been a moment of rage, not at all something he thought through. And a part of him thought the older, taller apprentice might seek vengeance on him. He was still eagerly awaiting a growth spurt, and barely stood an inch taller than when they first fought. Most days, if Wheatpaw exited the den first, that meant he'd be off training or doing whatever chores he was assigned for the day. Which meant Coyotepaw could be left alone. And his dumb siblings probably weren't even grateful that he was going out of his way to avoid making more trouble. He just knew if he saw Wheatpaw out and about they'd get into it again. If not with claws, then at least with words. They already were pretty snippy together whenever the apprentices all settled in to sleep at night. It'd be different, when he grew a little. He'd show that bullying mouse-brain that it wasn't just dumb luck that marked his face forever. But for now, he got up a little later and ignored being chastised by his mentor for his lateness. It's not like they had big, exciting plans for the day anyway, and very quickly he was dismissed to get himself fed. Later, they'd hunt more. To Coyotepaw's disdain, Wheatpaw leaving the den early did not mean he'd be away from camp all day. Instead, to his irritation, it meant the big, sandy apprentice would rush him, causing him to flinch back even as he attempted not to react. The snow covering his fur didn't help, but he refused to shake it away. Wheatpaw thought he was weak. He would prove otherwise, one way or another. "Back off, scar-face," he snapped back, though he was careful to keep as much emotion from his tone as possible. He hated for him to think he was getting a rise out of him. "Unless you'd like to feel my claws in your face again?" |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Feb 4, 2024 21:18:43 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/bzu3iZG~png
The fall of snow upon the brown apprentice made the slender tom continue to laugh. Wheatpaw noticed how Coyotepaw tensed when he approached, and it gave him a release of happiness to know that he still had an effect on the younger cat. It was the control and power over the apprentice's den that he desired. It made him feel important, more important than his mother had made him feel previously. Plus, if he was such a strong cat in the den, then maybe Creeksong would finally see him.
She will see me eventually.
"OOoooh, Scar-face, such an original insult there, pipsqueak!" Honestly, it was original. No one called Wheatpaw that yet. "Now that you have an apprentice's title, you think that you are all mean and bad now, don't you!?" The pale tom sneered as his toes began to flex underneath him. Oh, what it wouldn't take for him to just release his claws and scratch this cat. "There's no such thing as a heroic kittypet! All of you all are cowards!"
After the cruel words came from his mouth, he jumped backwards and lowered his chest to the ground, with his long tail waving wildly behind him like a lightning strike. "Come on, then, Coyotepaw. Or should I say, Kittypetpaw! If you are such a brave and strong apprentice, then why don't you fight me again? This time, I will make sure you feel what it is like to actually be a clan cat!" His emerald-green eyes shrunk to slits, as his paws carefully unsheathed his claws and gripped the ground. A challenge, for sure. He would prove to everyone that he was right about this weak-willed tom. |
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Post by adrian on Feb 10, 2024 15:37:58 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/x79vLh0/coyotepaw~png Not getting riled up was incredibly difficult when Wheatpaw was volleying insult after insult at him. It made him livid, and hot under his fur, ears flattening in warning as his tail lashed once behind him. "There's no such thing as a heroic kittypet! All of you all are cowards!"
Someone remind this idiot I was born here. Irritation clawed at him - he wanted to charge him. Like a moon ago, when he was just a week from his naming ceremony and he was taunted into scratching him in the first place. He'd do it again, happily. As many times as it took to shake Wheatpaw off his tail. As many times as it took for him to respect him. "Come on, then, Coyotepaw. Or should I say, Kittypetpaw!" Coyotepaw rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm the unoriginal one?" he spat. "If you are such a brave and strong apprentice, then why don't you fight me again? This time, I will make sure you feel what it is like to actually be a clan cat!"He launched himself at the older apprentice, uncaring of the half a moon of restraint he'd exhibited, or the consequences of his actions, or that their size difference had only grown in the time between. All he wanted was to sink his claws into Wheatpaw, making it clear that he was just as much a clan cat as he was. Using the spring of his legs to give the swipe of his paw greater impact, he raised his claws up to scratch the annoying tom. |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Feb 21, 2024 20:07:06 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/bzu3iZG~png He loved getting under the skin of other clanmates, especially those that he viewed as inferior to himself. A lot of the cats in the clan called him a bully, and he liked the title. It meant that he could get his way. It meant that everyone feared him. Wheatpaw thought it was from respect, rather than actually being fear. But, regardless, he was making a name for himself, despite his father's protests.
As expected, Wheatpaw had gotten under Coyotepaw's skin. He ignored the comment about originality, as he thought it was a pretty good joke. Ha, ha... Kittypetpaw.
But what he didn't expect so suddenly was for the smaller tom to attack. Well, yes, he did expect that Coyotepaw would eventually get angry enough to attack, but this quickly? This short, pipsqueak had quite the temper on him now, even more so than when he was a kit. Wheatpaw would certainly use it to his advantage from now on.
Wheatpaw ducked out of the way, only with two claws being able to notch a couple spots on his ear. It stung, but the pale tom wouldn't show that it bothered him. He was tougher than that. The taller apprentice quickly planted his feet from the mostly-successful dodge, with a chuckle escaping from him. "You're gonna pay for that, kittypet!"
As fast as he dodged, the lean tunneler charged toward the brown tabby, with his claw unsheathed and aimed to strike the tom right down the middle of his body, from back to belly. |
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Post by adrian on Feb 25, 2024 17:44:57 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/x79vLh0/coyotepaw~png Though he saw the older apprentice's eyes widen in surprise, he didn't have the advantage he thought he had by lunging first. Perhaps it was a difference in time spent training, but Wheatpaw was able to dodge his advance; he was only able to find purchase enough to rip a claw into his ear. The way Wheatpaw chuckled as their altercation progressed gave him the annoying impression that they were actually very similar; or at least that they'd be friends if Wheatpaw wasn't such a dick. Coyotepaw was competitive, too. He liked fighting, too. He wasn't supposed to be fighting older apprentices, but Wheatpaw started it, so he couldn't get into too much trouble, he thought. Actually, knowing his track record, he would probably get in trouble. But whatever, it was worth it. "You're gonna pay for that, kittypet!"Somehow, he wasn't expecting the very same strategy he just demonstrated being used back on him. And he lacked both the size of his foe and the training. Wheatpaw's long strides were hard to match; as quickly as he tried to dodge his blow, he just couldn't side step quickly enough to avoid the feeling of the apprentice's claws sinking into his shoulder and gliding at least mid-way down his arm before he managed to fully escape his grasp. Oh, that hurt. Last they fought, Coyotepaw had the upper hand. He was just a kit. Wheatpaw would have received much worse punishment if he'd truly injured one of the clan's young. Clearly, he wasn't worried about that now. Coyotepaw clenched his jaw, refusing to reveal any pain in his presence. He'd have to try much harder to get a reaction from him. Fighting dirty, he kicked up mud from the clearing much like the older apprentice did earlier and used that to cover his next strike, aiming to give Wheatpaw a mark matching his own. |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Feb 27, 2024 12:20:37 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/bzu3iZG~png A wicked grin creased along his maw as he felt the tug on his claws that meant that he had made contact with the other apprentice. Finally, he was able to prove that he could fight against this stupid apprentice. Wheatpaw watched as the scars formed along Coyotepaw's shoulders. It gave him such satisfaction to see that this talents were paying off, and that he could finally put the apprentice in his place.
Neither were kits, so they could finally fight like the warriors they were training to be.
Wheatpaw took a moment to gain his footing, as Coyotepaw kept his face stoic. Trying to be a big, bad warrior to hide the pain. If that injury felt anything like the scars on Wheatpaw's face, he knew that it had to hurt. The pale apprentice gritted his teeth to anticipate his next move.
However, before he could, the brown apprentice kicked up some mud and flung it toward his face. It hit his eyes and face, causing him to hiss in retailation. "You dirty mouse-brained weakling!" the apprentice snarled, before side-stepping to the side and allowing the other apprentice to narrowly miss his shoulders.
Still stunned from the mud in his face, he shook his head violently to try to rid his vision of the distraction. It was working in Coyotepaw's favor, as it left him open for attack once again.
[sorry it's short ;-; he dodged the first one, but feel free to hit him again as he is "stunned" at the moment"] |
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Post by adrian on Mar 8, 2024 14:23:18 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/x79vLh0/coyotepaw~png He could practically hear the sound of his claws missing Wheatpaw's shoulder, forcing him to readjust so he'd land on his paws and not on his side like an idiot. In the process, he slammed his paw a little harder against the ground than he would have liked, but he was moving again in the next instant like the pain didn't even register to him. Because in moments like this, it didn't. It was background noise to be addressed later. All he wanted was to win. By any means necessary. If he was more clever, maybe like Foxpaw, he would have called Wheatpaw a hypocrite, considering he flung mud on him earlier. But that didn't register to him, either. All he was focused on was that he probably had only one more good moment to strike before the mud-fling was wasted. Maybe if Wheatpaw wasn't so distracted by calling him names, he'd have the mud off his face already. But luckily, Wheatpaw really liked calling him names, and Coyotepaw took the opening to spring forward again with the same amount of force and momentum as his first strike. Claws unsheathed and flared out like he couldn't care less if he hurt a fellow PrairieClan apprentice, he aimed for his side, hoping to rake his claws down his hip. And you know, for good measure, he hoped to ram into the apprentice hard enough to knock him back into the mud, but grunted against the more secure footing of the older cat. Also beyond his notice was the attention slowly being drawn from around camp to the tussling, snarling apprentices. |
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Apr 24, 2024 15:09:41 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/bzu3iZG~png
[tw: foul language]
Ew, ew, ew, he could taste the mud in his nose and going down his throat. What a fucking shithead. Coyotepaw was playing dirty. Wheatpaw was angry, but then he couldn't blame him. Of course, a weakling like him would have to resort to anything to make it an unfair fight. The frustration in his belly grew like a roaring lion that was caged, as the ram from Coyotepaw landed on his side.
The sliding of the claws against his hip was a sharp pain, but something that Wheatpaw hardly noticed. Adrenaline was likely the blame, but as he landed back into a muddy spot. His right side, as he regained himself to sit up, wasn't exactly caked with mud, but the dark brown streaks made his sleek fur turn colors. If they weren't already flat, the ears on the older apprentice were even more glued to the side of his head. "Why, you-" he cut himself, off as he hopped himself out of the slick mud in order to regain his footing.
The size of the tom seemed to have made the apprentice grunt as Wheatpaw was launched into the mud. He would use that to his advantage. The lithe and slender tom used his momentum to gallop to the correct angle to launch himself at the apprentice's back, hoping to knock the apprentice off his feet and to land on top of him with claws digging in the fur. Even if he didn't, it would leave him on his feet for the next possible attack from Coyotepaw, just hoping he could anticipate what was next in time to react. |
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Post by adrian on Apr 28, 2024 13:06:30 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/x79vLh0/coyotepaw~png He wanted to relish in victory as Wheatpaw was knocked into the mud - to savor the look of rage on his face as he was coated in it. It'd take ages to get that out of his pelt if it dried before he could wash it off in water. And it was pretty cold to washing himself in running water, too. Double victory. But he didn't have time to gloat. The older apprentice was on his paws quickly, coming at him faster than he could properly dodge away from. He sucked in a breath as he was knocked down, closing off his mind from the pain of hitting his back against the earth and that of the horrible, obnoxious tom leering him, claws digging into his chest. What started as a scrap between apprentices was escalating. And he would meet that aggression with everything he had. He kicked his back legs up to attempt to jostle Wheatpaw off of him, at the same time biting into his arm and clenching down as if he was trying to kill a mouse and raking his claws over his belly. Anything to unlatch him so he could roll away, uncaring if he was drawing blood or causing injury. They already crossed that point, anyway. This, he thought, annoyed, was exactly why he avoided Wheatpaw. |
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Post by owl on May 1, 2024 14:00:56 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/sjZ15BX/nettleprofile~png | nettlefang so let my hope grow cold and atrophy
'cause there is no more room in your heart for me
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Nettlefang didn't know how she missed the fight starting in the center of camp. Maybe she was going deaf in her old age, or something. In her defense, she was facing the opposite direction and had been focused on mapping the territory out in her head. She had been discussing patrol assignments with a few senior warriors when one of them paused and nodded at something over her shoulder. Turning, she could see two familiar shapes grappling each other in the snow-melt mud. Two... apprentices. Coyotepaw and Wheatpaw are at it again. Was only a matter of time. Why is nobody breakin' it up? Oh... wait. That's my job now. "Shit. I'll be righ' back," she meowed at her clanmates, one of whom wished her a wry good luck. With these two, I think I'm gonna need it.
The two toms' rivalry almost echoed hers and Cinderstar's when they were that age—only, she and her nemesis at least had the sense to not duke it out in the center of camp where everyone and their grandma could see. Not much more sense, though. It's petty to fight a clanmate over anythin'. I know better than anyone it's hard when you're young, an' someone ticks you off... but I know now that's selfish. You're only biting yourself in the foot. The grey tabby leapt across camp in a matter of seconds, taking in the scene with the eye of a practiced warrior. Wheatpaw had currently managed to pin Coyotepaw down, and thankfully the two of them seemed largely unharmed. Nobody was bleeding to death. Not yet, at least. Stars, it's too early in the mornin' for this.
Taking a deep breath, she launched herself at the larger tabby apprentice. "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Nettlefang roared before grabbing Wheatpaw firmly by the muddy scruff and using her body weight to throw him from his perch atop Coyotepaw. The tom's fur was thin enough that she basically had him held by the spine, and he could only thrash like a fish in her notorious grip. Surprisingly he was able to pull himself free, but she had already achieved her goal: separating the two of them. He'd lost a clump of fur to her jaws, but really, she thought he deserved it. And it was kinder than the damage Coyotepaw's claws were going to sink into his underbelly, that's for sure.
Spitting pale brown fluff and dirt from her mouth, she fixed the both of them with a venomous stare. Coyotepaw was still on the ground beside her, and Wheatpaw a few paces in the other direction. The deputy was hunched between them, fur bristled and tail lashing, daring them to try to continue their squabble. "Fightin' each other like rabid dogs in th' middle of camp? Where everyone can watch ya? Have you two no shame?" She whipped her head around to focus to Wheatpaw, taking note of the mark down his face. She hadn't seen it since it'd been newly inflicted, and now it for sure was a scar. In fact, it nearly mirrored her face, the scar above her nose given to her by her own childhood rival. Still, she didn't even try to feign sympathy. I know what I needed back then, and it was someone to knock some sense into me. "What do y'both have to say for yourselves?"
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