Cactuspelt's facial expression broadcasted her unease, betraying a lack of confidence—something which Centipedepaw hoped to use to his advantage. If a full grown
warrior thought he was a threat... then he'd need to prove her right. The sooty apprentice refused to go down without a fight that's make Cactuspelt think twice before she ever targeted him again.
He kept light on his paws, attempting to shift his stance so that Cactuspelt remained in his line of sight at all times. The warrior was nimble; for eacha attempt at striking near her hindquarters, she whipped just out of range, matching Centipedepaw step for step in their wary dance. She darted forward—he reared back. Centipedepaw snaked toward her tail—Cactuspelt feinted away, leaving air between his fangs.
Breath dragged in and out of Centipede's lungs. If there was anything that Cactus certainly had more of than him—at least at this point in his training—it was endurance. He was still merely an apprentice: young and inexperienced. It was only a matter of time before his exhaustion caught up... and Cactuspelt successfully sank her teeth into his legs.
Not deep enough to hurt—this was an exercise, after all, not a battle. Nevertheless Centipede sucked in a sharp breath at the unexpected sting of pain. When the next bite came for his tail, he'd sigh in defeat before giving the warrior who'd singled him out a grudging nod of respect.
Time to start collecting prey and bringing it back to camp. Perhaps the dark-furred tom wasn't
too bitter about the opportunity to collect his thoughts and relax the racing of his heart.
The instant that Hornetpaw froze, he sensed the thing stalking him still its movement as well—effectively blending it into the nondescript landscape around them. His pulse thumped harder in his veins.
Mousedung. He shouldn't have let his anxiety get the better of him... Hornet should have maintained awareness on his follower—if he even truly had one—while keeping his pace deliberate and relaxed, hoping for the other cat to give their position away. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done for it now; time for a new plan.
Hornetpaw slowed his breathing so that the sound of his exhalations did not whistle in his ears. A few options presented themselves to his frantic mind: he could take off running—now that the illusion of stealth was shattered—and hope for the best,
or he could wait a few more moments for his stalker to reveal themselves. Either way, Hornetpaw stood firmly in the position of "prey." He had no choice but to hold himself until his opponent made their first move—
An explosive burst of movement shattered the undergrowth. Massive paws reached for Hornet's hind. The dark ginger apprentice felt his heart contract painfully in his chest—fueled by adrenaline—and then the giant form of Badgerscar was crashing into him.
Hornetpaw was crushed to his stomach, abdomen flat on the earth to leave him with scant centimeters to somehow prize his way to freedom. He attempted to twist—to wrench his spine to the dirt so that he could kick the large warrior off with his back paws—but Badgerscar had already bitten the apprentice's angrily lashing tail. Incredulous rage flared in Hornet's chest. He'd barely given the older tom a fight at all. And when his furious eyes searched for
Badger's tail—wondering if he'd had any chance to win—he noticed how the warrior had wound his banner protectively around his leg to prevent any easy strikes.
A harsh laugh lept from the boy's mouth.
"Wow. I'm an idiot." Sarcastic derision helped cool the sting of defeat. He glared up at Badgerscar, still splayed in the soil, bitten tail whipping the ground.
"How did you know that I knew you were there? What was I supposed to do?"
He speaks it sullenly, accusingly... but at the core of it, Hornetpaw was genuinely asking for advice. He never wanted to give someone such a poor fight ever again—especially not in front of someone as venerated as Badgerscar in the clan.
Whatever advice Badgerscar decided to give him—if any—Hornet would listen as respectfully as he could with anger yet etching his face. Then he'd dip his head in farewell to the warrior and find his brother to help bring their kills back to camp; they'd all earned a decent meal and a long, long nap.