Okay so, she was going to be a warrior in a moon, supposedly, but how the HECK was she going to get there if NO ONE WAS GOING TO TRAIN HER???? The small apprentice sat by the kill pile angrily shredding an unfortunate frog, picking off the pieces she actually wanted to eat. So far, her claws had only been used for two things. Shredding prey. Balance. What fun was THAT? She still didn't know how to fight!! At this pace, she'd be a warrior when she was thirty, an embarrassment to all of Shadowclan. It's not like they ever cared about her anyways. Magpiepaw knew that Shadowclan was the most amazing and awesome and extraordinary clan in all the forest. She knew that because SHE was in Shadowclan. But the clan themselves refused to acknowledge her greatness. What a pity, a near darn shame.
Just sitting. All she did day in and day out, unless she counted crying, WHICH SHE DID NOT! That's when she spotted Owlthroat, probably doing nothing of importance. Magpiepaw allowed herself one withering smile as she blinked back the hot and stupid tears that had formed in her eyes.
"Owlthroat! You owe me a battle lesson." She mewed, lacking her usually edge. "We're going!"
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T1 The Dancing Bird
A demanding voice broke Owlthroat’s train of thought. The morning had been bright, the breeze sweet. So he’d taken it upon himself to bury in thought, nap, stretch out. Simply enjoy the sweetness of a peaceful morning. His yellow eyes narrowed and flickered upwards to catch sight of the young molly, he let a slight grin slip across his maw.
It wasn’t that typical of him to like apprentices, but this one had a certain spunk that he couldn’t deny. A bravado which at times reminded him of himself, and didn’t he just love to stroke his own ego. She was a far sight different from Willowpaw, potentially the worst apprentice he’d ever had the displeasure of trying to teach. Incoherent and bumbling, quite frankly he’d prefer it if she ran away. Magpiepaw clearly hadn’t forgotten his offer of a battle lesson, it would be interesting to see how the youngster would perform.
”Ay”, voice rumbling as gruff as ever. The bulky tom lifted himself up and shook out the dust from his long fur, reaching down to stretch and sink his blackened claws into the dirt under paw.
He sauntered towards a hollow on the edge of camp, not waiting up. ”So what do you know?” The question had somewhat of an accusing tone to it, he wanted to understand what he was working with. Whether or not he’d have to undo some bad habits, perhaps convince her sweetly enough that to win, was to sometimes be dishonourable in battle. It was terrifying how quickly his mind flickered into a battle landscape, but then again. Those he taught in the way of claws never performed poorly on the battlefield.
Plus not many warriors were as willing as he was to let an apprentice spar with unsheathed claws. His thick fur always dampened blows, and if they never learnt how to cut with them it would be a foreign feeling in battle giving others the edge. Perhaps a little bit insane letting an unhoned youngster go wild but something sickening inside Owlthroat loved seeing them take pride in the wounds they caused. It was no fun when they cowered in fear, scared of crimson heat.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T1 The Dancing Bird
A demanding voice broke Owlthroat’s train of thought. The morning had been bright, the breeze sweet. So he’d taken it upon himself to bury in thought, nap, stretch out. Simply enjoy the sweetness of a peaceful morning. His yellow eyes narrowed and flickered upwards to catch sight of the young molly, he let a slight grin slip across his maw.
It wasn’t that typical of him to like apprentices, but this one had a certain spunk that he couldn’t deny. A bravado which at times reminded him of himself, and didn’t he just love to stroke his own ego. She was a far sight different from Willowpaw, potentially the worst apprentice he’d ever had the displeasure of trying to teach. Incoherent and bumbling, quite frankly he’d prefer it if she ran away. Magpiepaw clearly hadn’t forgotten his offer of a battle lesson, it would be interesting to see how the youngster would perform.
”Ay”, voice rumbling as gruff as ever. The bulky tom lifted himself up and shook out the dust from his long fur, reaching down to stretch and sink his blackened claws into the dirt under paw.
He sauntered towards a hollow on the edge of camp, not waiting up. ”So what do you know?” The question had somewhat of an accusing tone to it, he wanted to understand what he was working with. Whether or not he’d have to undo some bad habits, perhaps convince her sweetly enough that to win, was to sometimes be dishonourable in battle. It was terrifying how quickly his mind flickered into a battle landscape, but then again. Those he taught in the way of claws never performed poorly on the battlefield.
Plus not many warriors were as willing as he was to let an apprentice spar with unsheathed claws. His thick fur always dampened blows, and if they never learnt how to cut with them it would be a foreign feeling in battle giving others the edge. Perhaps a little bit insane letting an unhoned youngster go wild but something sickening inside Owlthroat loved seeing them take pride in the wounds they caused. It was no fun when they cowered in fear, scared of crimson heat.
Welp, it looked like someone was lazing around that day, but not her. Magpiepaw got no breaks. Not like she wanted them anyways... The small apprentice watched as Owlthroat shifted his expression and pulled his maw upwards to show a glint of teeth. Magpiepaw wasn't sure what he was emoting in that moment, but why would she care? He then greeted her to which she responded with the impatient tap of her tail. She wanted to get this over with. She was sick of being overlooked. She wanted to be better. Also, why the heck was he so dusty? Magpiepaw had only met one other cat like that, the one with the odd sapphire eyes. She called him Dusky because she couldn't remember his name for some reason. That was a pretty odd day for her...
Before she knew it, Owlthroat was walking off, WITHOUT HER! "HEY!" She screeched, darting after the larger warrior with quickening paws. Once Owlthroat halted he addressed her with a question. Magpiepaw clicked her teeth before answering. "Bleh, dodging, where to strike which is shoulders up. They bleed more there as Rookie told me. Anything below won't bleed as much but fair game still." The apprentice opened her mouth as though she was ready to say more, but she closed it after awhile, looking slightly confused. Stars, three things? ONLY THREE!? Oh this was so STUPID!! How old was she!? Yeah, she was lacking. Magpiepaw clawed at the ground furiously, her eyes narrowing out into slits. "I swear I would know more if my first two mentors actually taught me something, and my CURRENT ONE is ALSO A DRAG."
The she-cat shook her head. Gracklepaw was moons older than her. If he was still here, would he have already gotten his warrior name? Even if he had and she wasn't beside him, perhaps getting her friend as a mentor would benefit her more than anything or anycat else. But no. He was gone, a stupid and horrible thought, and she was still here, a moon away from her personal deadline of becoming a warrior, and yet she still wasn't ready. But she was going to GET ready. RIGHT. NOW.
She looked back up at Owlthroat defiantly. "Since you offered me a lesson I'm assuming you're not a worthless feather brain, yeah?"
__________________
❝Whatever will be, will be. Don't care what anyone else thinks.❞
-When You Grow Up, Your Heat Dies
c'mon, fight! [p]
