The Forest Has Its Rules {CLOSED}

Flintpaw dug his claws into the leaf mulch, brow furrowed. He was unoccupied, and that was dangerous.
The apprentice stood on the edge of Thunderclan territory, overlooking Fourtrees. He was in his element, Flintpaw used to love his clan's territory, found it exhilarating and interesting. But now he was thinking. There was no time to be awestruck by the forest, there were things that needed to be done.

Ever since his sister, Chervilpaw's death, Flintpaw had been angry. Why was there no medicine cat to help? Why had Chervilpaw collapsed in the middle of camp? And mostly, how can his clan go on living like nothing happened? That was the first thing Thunderclan had done to wrong him. And now Flintpaw stood at the edge of the forest, trying to find a second. He used to be able to keep himself busy. He'd go on patrols or attempt to talk to his other sister, Bushpaw. But both of those failed to distract him. Flintpaw was now free to think, to ponder. And in this stage, he felt more dangerous than a warrior of Lionclan. His mind swirled with thoughts of what his clan could do to be better. He was bitter for how the clan was run. How underappreciated the warriors of Thunderclan were. There was no individuality, no care for the single cat, only "working as a unit." But they couldn't even do that right. For once, Flintpaw's smart mind failed him. It was going to get him into more trouble than he could possibly imagine.

Borders... Flintpaw thought, marching down the hill toward Fourtrees. The first sin clan cats have made... The gray tabby walked under the great oaks, trailing the Great Rock, and into the grass beyond. He snorted at himself, already referring to clan cats as if he wasn't one of them. Flintpaw kept walking, padding past the tree line, and finding himself on the open moor. A slight flicker of warning went off in his mind, telling him that this was Windclan territory.
He shook it off, continuing on with his trek. They say we shouldn't cross borders, but what is there to stop us? The apprentice held his head high, green eyes narrowed in concentration as his mind continued to swirl with thoughts, threatening to overflow. Without the tree cover, a strong gust of wind now pulsed against Flintpaw's flank, roaring in his ears.

Flintpaw growled at it, lashing his tail. Thunderclan's second sin... Limiting my freedom. He felt exposed on the stretch of moor, having never left the forest before. But there was something so exhilarating about it, something so addicting. Maybe it was the act of defiance, or the dawn of new ideas, but Flintpaw loved it. No one could stop him.

This wasn't her first hunt, but it felt just as thrilling to her as the first time. Russet fur was gently tossed by the pleasant breeze that overtook the usual dim scarlet moor. Red was the world, as it had been most her life. Unlike those older, this was merely a fact of her existence. Anything other would have seemed an abnormality. But Brookpaw was not focused on the conditions of the day nor the wind. She was set on the scent of rabbit that drifted through the air and soaked into the ground. There was no doubt a handsome kill was just over the horizon. And she would be the very one to present that kill to her mentor and to the rest of the clan, hopefully under the watchful eye of Brindlestar. The very thought caused an unintentional smile to twitch at the edge of her maw. Nothing was more satisfactory than doing her duty and doing it well.

Her nose stuck close to the ground as delicate paws picked their way silently over the barely trodden grass. Despite moons of moor runners trampling the ground, the light frames of their ancestors prevented the lands from dying. Whiskers twitching in amusement she entertained the thought of heavy Thunderclan cats even attempting to hunt on their lands. Such bulky messes of warriors would do nothing less than destroy the delicacy of the land. Although the forest clan had been allied with Windclan since a time before her birth, that did not make them kin anymore than a Riverclan cat. Her loyalty was to the clan whose very blood ran through her veins, not to the fragile nature of temporary allegiances.

Brookpaw stopped suddenly and parted her maw ever so slightly to draw in the scents once more. Rabbit was depressingly stale. Under her breath came a flurry of light curses. Her lack of speed in tracking had likely cost her a catch. Another scent reached her glands and caused the fur on her shoulders to raise instinctively. It was an enemy cat scent. This was no doubt a Thunderclan cat as she had learned not long before. In her haste, the slender apprentice had not realized how far from camp she had come. Regardless, this was not a place for any Thunderclanner to be. A hiss threatened to break from her throat. Yet it was caught behind the knowledge that Brindlestar was the leader who maintained the alliance. If this cat had a reason or was willing to leave the territory, then they would be allowed. Her claws would stay sheathed, for now. If they hesitated or refused, the young she-cat would do exactly what Barleytuft had been training her to do.

"Who are you?" Brookpaw challenged as she stopped short from the unknown apprentice, "And what business do you have on Windclan territory?"

Flintpaw whipped his head around in surprise at the sound of accusation. The wind must've played with his senses, because he wasn't able to scent the newcomer until it was too late. The tom felt his breath catch in his throat as he set eyes upon the she-cat. Windclan... He noted, judging by her smell and location. Foxdung!

Flintpaw's heart was pounding now, but not from exhilaration. He couldn't form words, and stood facing the she-cat with his jaw hanging open, looking like a mousebrain. How would he explain this? A minute ago, the young tom had felt free, traversing forest and beyond. But now his feet were frozen to the windswept ground. Oh how stupid he had been. All the thoughts that had swirled in his mind earlier evaporated like mist on a hot day. Flintpaw's "no borders" philosophy felt flimsy in comparison to this very real threat that now stood in front of him.
The apprentice's eyes never left the she-cat's. He narrowed them, thinking. You were acting like a kit Flintpaw! I know you think the clans could do better, but how are you going to explain this to a CLAN cat?

Think Flintpaw, think! The gray tabby blinked, coming to his senses. His challenger was most likely an apprentice, younger than himself, barely even out of the nursery. But her eyes told a different story, just by the intensity of her gaze, Flintpaw could tell she was no kit.
With a chuckle, he shook his head, his confidence rushing back to him after the scare of getting caught where he shouldn't be. The tom grinned, thinking he could talk his way out of this one. She's no kit, but she's not a warrior either.

"I'm Flintpaw." He stated, his voice shaky from the scare. Clearing his throat, Flintpaw tried again. "You're...Windclan, right?" He meant her eyes, giving a knowing nod, hoping his attempted charisma could save him. "You probably already know I'm a forest cat, uhh Thunderclan if you want the specifics. Look, I know I shouldn't be here, but I was just..." Flintpaw let a short breath escape his nose, and with a smirk, he continued. "...taking a walk. Yeah, uhh. I like the territory. Windclan, it's pretty. No trees, just the sky and grass, and you and me." He took a step closer, tipping his head down so he could look up at the apprentice. "Look, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this. You and I both know I'm not supposed to be here, and I was a mousebrain. I admit it. Let's just both walk away from this okay? And, maybe I'll see you at gatherings? On friendly terms?"

"Just walk away from this?" An incredulous retort came from her maw as she padded slightly closer, closing the larger gap that had separated the pair of them. Were Thunderclan cats just as daft as they were wide? Brookpaw's paws spread ever so slightly as she planted herself solidly over the ground. She locked eyes with the foolish forest apprentice. There had no only been hesitance in his voice but also, the tom appeared to have no reason for so freely treading their territory. Although she longed to follow suit in Brindlestar's compassion towards the Thunderclan cats, the apprentice was void of any such feelings at the moment. Compassion was not to be mistaken for weakness. Besides, she reasoned with herself, the Windclan leader was not mousebrained herself in order to allow for any clan to just take a casual stroll through the moorlands. This was no messenger. This was no moonstone journey. This was an insolent apprentice.

Her claws unsheathed easily into the grass. Although Brookpaw was smart enough to exert self-control in battle, allowing her to fight a battle without such mistakes as unintentional maiming, the she-cat certainly planned on teaching him a lesson about disrespecting the moor-running clan. A soft his came from her throat as she sized him up, "You must be as dull as your coat if you think that you can come and taint the moorland with your stench and then be allowed to walk away as freely as you claim, Flintpaw. An allegiance does not allow for ignorant apprentices to simply walk our lands. And I am sure that Leopardstar, as deserving as Brindlestar's praise as he is, would agree with me."

Behind the young apprentice, her tail lashed eagerly. Since starting her training, the russet-furred she-cat had been preparing for this very moment. Barleytuft had shown her how to use her claws, and her teeth, with a calculated restraint that would help her to surely win this battle. Speed was on her side as well. Brookpaw knew that no Thunderclan cat would ever be able to dart as quickly as she could. And that was the very thought running through her mind as she leaped forward, launching herself clear over Flintpaw's head. With her light frame, it was easy to spring the required distance. Once behind him, the Windclan apprentice wasted no time in attaching herself to the fur along his back. She placed her paws squarely, evenly, over his coat to make sure she had a solid grasp that he would not be able to shake off instantly. When Brookpaw was certain of her grasp on Flintpaw, she leaned forward and let out another long hiss that disturbed the sensitive fur of her opponent's ears.

"I'm going to show you why messing with Windclan is the last thing you want to do."

Brookpaw used leap and hold on Flintpaw, dealing 6 damage and using 10 stamina. Flintpaw is held for 2 turns.

Brookpaw
HP: 20/20
SP: 70/80

Flintpaw
HP: 14/20
SP: 80/80

The member 'Ripped Leafas' has done the following action : Dices roll

---

'Effect Dice' : 4

Flintpaw gasped in surprise as a flash of red fur flew over his head. One moment, he was attempting to talk his way out of a battle, but the next moment, the battle had found him. The gray tabby was hit with such force, the forest seemed to swirl before his eyes, and it all came to a sudden stop when he hit the ground, a new weight on top of him.
The apprentice winced as the red-she cat hissed in his ear, each word sinking into his understanding, turning his blood to ice. He felt claws slide through his gray fur and into the flesh below, leaving hot rivets of pain coursing through his back. Flintpaw hissed, ears flat to his skull. The wheatgrass of the moor lapped at his mouth as his head was pressed into the dirt. His last view of the forest, of safety was obscured by the grass that now cluttered his vision, as if sealing his fate. He was going to have to fight, fleeing was no longer an option. But his mind and reality were two different things. As much as Flintpaw wanted to rise to his paws and rake his claws across the she-cat's smug face, he was pinned.

The apprentice grunted, a mixture of pain and frustration escaping through his mouth. His paws churned at the ground, loosening chunks of dirt and roots, mud getting stuck between his claws. Get. Off! Flintpaw thought, the blood roaring in his ears. But the russet-furred she-cat wouldn't budge. To Flintpaw, it was impossible to think that a Windclan cat of all things now had him pinned to the ground. Windclan with their wiry frames and twig-thin bodies. How is this...possible?
Flintpaw thought of Swoopnose, his mentor, and all the times they had practiced this very move in the Sandy Hollow. Back then, the apprentice had no trouble finding his footing and removing Swoopnose from his back, so why was this so difficult? Flintpaw was panting now, writhing in the dirt had taken its toll on the apprentice, and blood had begun to well up at the spots where the she-cat had pricked at his back. There was a drumming in the earth, it sounded like pawsteps, someone running, he heard it through the ground, and saw a flash of orange appear from above the grass. The smell of Windclan, the lean frame. Oh Starclan….another one?

---

Finchpaw had been out mulling around the moor. He wasn't up to anything in particular. His paws had carried him out of Windclan camp, to the far side of the meadow, near Thunderclan territory. Maybe he had an itch to walk, or maybe his paws had a sixth sense as to what was taking place near the border, but when the sound of a struggle reached Finchpaw's ears, he knew he was where he needed to be.
The orange tabby crested a hill just in time to see a familiar, pretty red she-cat leap on top of another cat, a gray tom by the looks of it, not from Windclan. Without hesitation, the apprentice threw himself down the hill, running as fast as his paws could carry him. The only thing that was on his mind was Brookpaw's safety, it made him sick to think of her taking a wound. He didn't know why, but the she-cat held a special place in Finchpaw's mind. Maybe it was because she was his clanmate, and his sense of loyalty gave him an urge to keep her safe. But then again, Finchpaw wouldn't blindly throw himself into battle for any of the other apprentices. She was special.

The tom left his thoughts behind as he slid to a halt in front of the two cats, ready to slash at the unknown gray tabby. The Windclan apprentice was panting, obviously worried, but trying not to let it show. Returning back to his usual level-headed mindset, Finchpaw took note of the situation.

Whiskers twitching with amusement, Finchpaw realized that Brookpaw wasn't in any danger at all... She had pinned the tabby to the ground, who Finchpaw now realized was a Thunderclanner, based on his smell. The forest cat wasn't going anywhere, and squirmed in the dirt, while a triumphant Brookpaw stood on top. "You seem to have everything under control." Finchpaw breathed, a handsome smile stretching across his face, utterly in awe of the she-cat. The tom gave his chest fur a lick, a little embarrassed of his hasty entrance. He took a few steps toward the other apprentice who was well pinned under the russet she-cat's paws. "You're Thunderclan, I'm assuming. You seem like a decent fellow, a shame you had to cross the border. I won't attack you while you're down, but I am afraid I'll have to help Brookpaw teach you a lesson once you find your footing. You really do not belong here." Finchpaw glanced up at Brookpaw, and stood next to her, paws spread ever so slightly, ready to help her through this battle, and all the battles that were to come.

Flintpaw is pinned for 1 more turn.

Brookpaw
HP: 20/20
SP: 70/80

Flintpaw
HP: 14/20
SP: 80/80

ooc: i had started a post for this, then it got deleted, then i had lots of things and so i am finally here

Satisfaction welled up in the apprentice's chest as she pressed her Thunderclan apprentice to the earth. It was easy, far easier than she had thought, to quickly overtake the tom. She supposed the victory was mostly due to the speed of her paws that had allowed her to strike first and potentially how she had attacked that caused him to lose his footing. Claws dug into the fur as she further tightened her grip on the other apprentice. As he flailed beneath her, seeking an opportunity to escape, Brookpaw used as much of her lightweight as she could manage to pin him securely. The she-cat's muscles strained but the thrill of battle was more rejuvenating than it was exhausting. She was finally, and truly, fulfilling her duty to the clan that she had been born into.

Out of the corner of her gaze, she saw another cat approach and quickly twisted her eyesight to see who it was. If this was another Thunderclan cat, Brookpaw would likely not stand a chance. However, she flexed her claws into Flintpaw as she considered that regardless she would try to defend their lands. But to her relief it was Finchpaw. Her eyes lit up and she flashed him a grin before refocusing her attention to the cat writhing below. The smile of her handsome companion only fueled her on further. The fact that he was there, standing next to her, only furthered the russet-furred apprentice's confidence in what she was doing. Finchpaw was clearly impressed and that caused pride to well up in her chest. Brookpaw's tail lashed behind her as she greeted him, "Nice of you to join the battle, Finchpaw. I could have been buried underneath a whole invading patrol by the time you showed up." There was the usual teasing nature to her tone as she poked fun at her best friend.

Brookpaw considered if she should let him up or not but settled for keeping him pinned for now, as his strength began to fade even slightly beneath her, the apprentice considered it'd be better to wait a moment before allowing Flintpaw to his feet. With another brief glance, she added to her companion, "You know for a bulky Thunderclan cat, it was surprisingly easy to pin him. You don't think I'm gaining weight, do you?" She managed to huff out another soft joke through clenched teeth as she continued to struggle against Flintpaw's protests to being attacked.

Brookpaw continued to use leap and hold on Flintpaw, dealing 6 damage. Flintpaw is held for 1 turn.

Brookpaw
HP: 20/20
SP: 70/80

Flintpaw
HP: 8/20
SP: 80/80

The Thunderclan apprentice had begun to cough, a sign of the fire that grew in his belly. The first thing Flintpaw had felt was fear. At seeing the other Windclan apprentice arrive, he knew it was over for him. But much to the gray tabby's surprise, the tom did not attack. Instead the Windclan cat stood over him, gazing at him with those sun-like eyes. He gave him some speech about chivalry and not attacking you while you're down. Somehow this annoyed Flintpaw more than the claws that tore through this back.

"Alright, alright, no need to start preaching the Warrior Code to me, I've heard it and I'm not impressed." The gray tabby hissed, attempting to swipe at the tom's paws from below, missing horribly. The orange tabby ignored Flintpaw's sarcastic remark and began to take up conversation with the other Windclan apprentice. Flintpaw couldn't believe his ears, the two cats were talking, while he had been churned into the dirt like old crowfood. Their words sounded fuzzy, and Flintpaw began to fade in and out and out of conciousness, the pain sending him into shock. He winced as the red she-cat giggled with the orange tabby. Finchpaw His ears burned as he heard the she-cat state his name. It was obvious they were flirting, and the thought of it made Flintpaw even more annoyed. The gray tabby didn't catch much of the conversation, grass had clogged his ears and mouth, but from what he did hear, Flintpaw wanted to throw the two off the gorge. Ugh, just have kits already... He thought, the pain in his fur growing to become one, strong glow. The Thunderclan apprentice thought about giving up, announcing a yield and walking back to camp, injured. His attempts to get a paw-hold on the grassy terrain grew weaker, and the panicky, short breaths that escaped his mouth grew shallower. But Flintpaw's ego, once again would be his downfall. It wouldn't allow him to yield. The tabby decided to wait for an opening, and then make a break for it. A smaller hit to his dignity than a surrender. But still a hit, nonetheless.

---

Finchpaw raised his brow at the Thunderclan apprentice's remark, letting a short breath escape his nose. He wanted to feel pity for the tom, but the comment made the orange tabby snort instead. Finchpaw decided he found the gray tabby tom funny. Something about the Thunderclan cat intrigued Finchpaw. Maybe it was his rebellious mindset, or his current position in the dirt, under Brookpaw's claws. Something he should find quite an honor... Finchpaw told himself with a sly smile, sweeping the thought away as he continued his thinking. It occurred to Finchpaw that it was the the tom's privilege that captivated him. This cat had the opportunity to rebel, and did it. He has nothing holding him back... Finchpaw thought, knowing that he himself could never roam free like the gray tabby. The apprentice couldn't decide if it bothered him or not.

Finchpaw pricked his ears at hearing Brookpaw's teasing, turning his head away from the tom. A wide smile stretched across his face, "And I would fight the whole patrol, Thunderclan's no match for me." Finchpaw crooned, gazing at the russet furred she-cat. She's my priveledge. The apprentice thought, knowing that deep in his heart, he would take her, over having the gray tabby's freedom any day. Finchpaw didn't quite know why he felt that way yet, but he came closer to finding it every day.

"Gaining weight?" The orange and white tabby questioned, the grin still plastered to his face. "Impossible. You're as thin as a reed!" Finchpaw wondered if he should interfere with the struggle that went on before him, watching as Brookpaw continued to pin the Thunderclan apprentice to the ground. But the tabby knew how independent Brookpaw was, and took a step back instead, ready to jump in if any real danger was to occur.

Flintpaw is pinned for 0 more turns.

Brookpaw
20/20
70/80

Flintpaw
8/20
80/80