[Empress Of Evil]

Originally Posted by RedHead

Shellfeather hoped that she hadn't brought back any bad memories for the young tom. She knew how hard it was to talk about someone who we dead. Or gone. She'd experienced both losses, with family members and friends alike. "Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that. I bet she certainly was a wonderful cat though. And still is, up in Starclan." Shellfeather's belief in Starclan had never faltered, no matter how much pain or suffering she went through. She knew that her life was her own, and she believed that all of her pain was for a reason. And that it would make her a better cat in the end.

As Pleasantpaw dat down in front of he, ready to start, Shellfeathercast her blue gaze slowly around, thinking. She could see, from memory, young cats in here, training, working hard, shaping up to be averted warrior, a better fighter. She remembered when she was doing that, excited to show her clan what she could do. She had served her young warriorhood as a queen, bearing healthy kits for the clan. And now, she was finally serving her clan as a warrior, training her apprentice. Shellfeather was glad that she hadn't decided to stay a forever queen. The white molly had deeply considered it, but she knew that being in the nursery for the rest of her life would bring back bad memories. She needed to get out, to breathe, to live.

"Let's start with a simple but effective move." Shellfeather meowed firmly. "Watch closely." She then demonstrated the move. Crouching down, Shellfeather imagined a cat in front of her, running towards her. As the imagined cat leaped, Shellfeather slid underneath them, kicking up her legs which caused the cat to unbalance and fall instead of landing in top of her. She then poured on the figure of the cat she had imagined. When she was dive demonstrating, the cat faded from her mind, and she looked over at Pleasantpaw. "Did you catch that?" She asked, flicking her tail a bit to rid it of the dust.

The tom was never that upset when someone brought up his dead mother. He was proud to have had such a wonderful mother, even if he had never gotten to truly know her. Despite his young age, the Tuxedo understood life and death just that little more than another cat of his age. Pleasantpaw knew that death was eventually going to make an appearance in everyone’s life eventually, whether it be the death of a friend, foe, family member, or even themself. His father and mother were both dead and he had treaded on the border of death before, so he made no complaint when the topic came up. “She was a wonderful mother and a brave cat,” Pleasantpaw murmured, a small, sad smile crossing his maw before he widened it and made it more cheerful.
If there was anything the tom had learnt in his lifetime, it was that you had to be positive. Personally, the tom could be rather dark at times, yet he always seemed to have a smile on his face. It was as if the smile was painted onto his face and he couldn’t let anything waver it. The black and white apprentice had rather dark thoughts and dangerous ideas in his mind, yet at first glance, no one would ever be able to see that. He just concealed his darkness with a cheerful grin.

Pleasantpaw pushed his thoughts back and returned his attention to his mentor as her words broke through. The apprentice did as he was asked, watching his mentor’s movements and keeping note of everything that she did. He nodded slowly as she spoke again, replaying the move in his mind on repeat. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of how his mentor had completed the move with such ease. Perhaps she had been imagining a fake opponent? The tom had often seen kits fighting imaginary enemies outside the nursery, so maybe that’s what she had done. Except, she would’ve been more grown up about it.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again and crouched down as his mentor had done. Imagining that a cat was in front of him, he launched forward with power. He slid underneath the imaginary cat as they leaped upwards and kicked his back legs up. However, the power he had put into sliding underneath the cat and kicking upwards was too much for him and he tumbled onto the ground, ending up as a heap of fur on the floor. For a moment, he didn’t move. Only a few seconds later did he sit up straight, shaking his fur free of the dust. He suppressed a hiss of frustration and kept calm. “I put too much power in,” Pleasantpaw murmured to himself, looking up at Shellfeather with disappointment glinting in his yellow hues. He had been hoping to impress his mentor, but had been unsuccessful.