Border Skirmish [OPEN]

A black shadow moved through the trees, her pelt flickering among the leaves. She paused, her ears pricked. A tiny squeaking could be heard, and the cat crept forward. Pouncing, there was one shriek of a mouse before the forest went silent. The she-cat slid out of the trees, a plump mouse dangling from her jaws. There was a rustling in the undergrowth, and the she-cat's son padded out with a rabbit in his jaws. Hollyberry dumped her mouse and scraped earth over the creature before smiling at the newly appointed warrior. "Nice catch." she purred, complimenting Batwing.

Batwing followed suit, setting the hare on the ground and peppered dirt over it. "Thanks, Mom! You too." he replied and made to turn around. By the time the young black tom was slipping through the brush, an unfamiliar scent washed over him. Whipping around, he realized that Hollyberry had left to a deeper part of ThunderClan territory. A gray tom, who looked like he was just entering apprenticeship, was crossing the border tentatively, whiskers and ears twitching. His face was contorted into a look of pure concentration and nervousness, and he was shivering ever so slightly. Immediately, Batwing shot up the small ditch where the WindClan tom was and tackled him, pinning the gray cat down.

Slatepaw refrained from screeching in fright and racked his brain for the battle moves Lightfoot had taught him. WindClan was light and lithe, not to mention very quick on their feet. Fast as lightning, he gathered all of his strength and lashed out, managing to heave the heavy warrior off of him. The black tom growled and launched himself at the lithe WindClanner, caterwauling loudly. Slatepaw, who was attempting to shoot away, was finding the tall grass on the WindClan side of the territory hard to weasel through. Hissing in frustration, he screwed up all of his courage and leaped over to where the ThunderClan tom was, taunting him. "Betcha can't get me, bird-brain!" he laughed, dancing around the black tom. Batwing let out a furious noise somewhat like a hiss, but more of a growl. Pawsteps of multiple cats echoed in the distance and the scent of both WindClan and ThunderClan writhed around Slatepaw. A mottled tortoiseshell she-cat from ThunderClan, her scent not unlike the one of Batwing, leaped onto the Thunderpath and attempted to pry the black tom off of the small apprentice and frighten Slatepaw.

She was not succeeding at either. Slatepaw was focused on freeing himself, and her uncle was not giving up his grip. A WindClan patrol was fast approaching, and she had yet to get the tiny WindClan apprentice off of their territory. Batwing looked as if he was going to rip Slatepaw to pieces, and they would become outnumbered when the cats from the other Clan showed up. "Batwing, give up! A patrol is coming, and what's it going to look like if you're caught battering up this poor thing?" she hissed fiercely in the black tom's ear. Batwing's tail lashed and he ignored her, and much to Sweetpaw's disappointment, her comment just made Slatepaw fight even harder. "I am not a poor thing!" Slatepaw growled, lashing out and scratching the large warrior's forehead to the tip of his nose. At that moment, cats burst over the border from both sides.