[Dark]

Darkfall

Shadow Fiend: Active
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It was late at night and through a light fog, the surroundings were illuminated by the waning moon perched high in the sky.

Wearing the night like a second pelt, a lone cat meandered through the clan’s territory after slipping out of the camp. Keeping his ears on a swivel, the azure-eyed tom headed toward an oh-so-familiar place. Hearing the hoot of an owl nearby, he paused, cautiously looking around. After a few heartbeats of nothing, he continued his trek.

Darkfall made his way into the training cliffs and was instantly hit with a wave of nostalgia. He could very clearly remember his first time coming here, 12 whole moons ago now. Wow… It really had been a long time. That was back when he was receiving training from the now-deceased deputy, Cinderblaze. A twinge of pain gripped his heart as he remembered the tom he admired. Times were simpler then… he just had to do his training, and then he could either go see his mom or his sister. Now all three of those cats were long dead, he was the only one left of both them and the rest of his family.

The tom walked along the path until he reached around where he first began his battle training. He had been so small then, hardly out of the nursery and he had been thrust into a spar with his mentor. ”Oh Cinderblaze…” He sighed. He could still remember how nervous he felt when the deceased deputy insisted that they fight with their claws unsheathed. Not only had he almost lost an ear, but totally almost got squished as well!

Actually… Thinking back on it, it was really kind of ridiculous. He was being too soft on his mentor simply because he didn’t want to hurt him and as a result hesitated constantly. He could help but let out a mrrow of laughter at the memory. Oh, how things have changed! He wondered how things would have gone if the older tom hadn’t died so soon. Perhaps he’d have finished his training earlier and wouldn’t have hardened his heart or pushed everyone away the way he did.

Oh well. No point in dwelling on the past anymore. The large black tabby was out here for a reason. His wounds had finally healed enough to where he could actively participate in more strenuous activity and he was going to use this as an opportunity to get back into shape. He still had goals in mind and in this clan where the strong prevailed the most, they were unreachable unless he worked hard to attain them.

In the general area, he could pick up a familiar - albeit faint - scent. Larkfire. Larkfire had been here within the last couple of days for one reason or another and re-marked the area. Had she been training here too? The thought lit a fire within him. Recently, her shoulder had been in rough shape and if she could come out here and work on that bad leg, then what excuse did he have? [though this was not the case]

Refocused, Darkfall instinctively lowered himself into a battle crouch and unsheathed claws. He was too far behind. Larkfire had been an enforcer since the two of them were apprentices and despite his boasting, he still had not achieved the rank.

He felt pathetic.

Leaping forward with outstretched paws, he quickly brought them down at an invisible adversary.

He felt weak.

After landing down on his paws, he spun around and with all of his might, lashed out with one of his large paws.

He felt angry.

Not giving his invisible opponent any time to react, he leaped up into the air as if he were to land on their back and sunk his teeth into their invisible scruff, digging his claws into their imaginary sides. The first move that he had properly learned from his former mentor.

He felt lost

Letting out a snarl of defiance, Darkfall hopped off before swinging his left paw in a feint, before bringing his right paw down towards the imagined head with all of his force. ”AGH!” The tom howled, aiming to bowl the shadow opponent over before they could recover. He kept the offensive, batting at their head before darting away. Or nipping at their legs and haunches to distract them.

All of the pain and frustration he had kept bottled up over the last 10 moons began to spill out into his moves, driving him to be faster. To be more precise. To add more power. In the next battle, he wouldn’t end up as injured as he did. In the next battle, he wouldn’t allow his opponent to push him around like the last time. In the next battle, he would aim for such an overwhelming victory that the other cat wouldn’t be able to land a single blow.

Cinderblaze-

One swipe towards the head for his old mentor.

Snailpounce-

A devastating shoulder blow for his deceased mother.

Fallenpaw-

A bite to the neck for his deceased sister.

Strawberrykit, Smokepaw, Smoulderingpaw, and Vulturepaw-

He muscled the phantom onto its back and tore at its stomach in memory of his deceased or missing siblings.

Mirehound, Shadowfur, Oliveglow, Mossfang, Whisperingwolf, Sweetpaw, and Ivysnake-

He continued his onslaught of attacks, pouring every bit of his anger into every single move, into every single attack or feint for the clanmates he had lost along the way. He was going to be prepared the next time. He was going to improve and get better. He had to. If he wanted to become an enforcer? He had to work harder. If he wanted his clan to acknowledge him? He had to get stronger. If he wanted Larkfire to love him? He had to be better. He couldn’t afford to remain stagnate and on a level of mediocracy. He had to improve.

After a while of repeating the movements over and over in the darkness alone, the tom was laying down on his back panting. His muscles were screaming in protest at the ordeal he just put them through, and his lungs felt like he had inhaled a bunch of smoke. It hurt. A lot. Shakily rising to his paws, the tom cleaned the dirt out of his fur and made his way back toward the camp. Hopefully, no one would be looking for him and he’d be able to go to sleep in peace.

At this moment, his mind felt clear and all feelings of self-loathing or dissatisfaction were replaced with the feeling of an aching and tired body, begging him to plop down in the comfort of his nest. In a way, it was refreshing - not having anything on his mind in the silence, save for the rasp of his breath. There was one thing, however, the tom did think as he left the training cliffs.

He was a ShadowClan warrior, and he would not be weak.