The Moor-call

Sweetpaw sat at the camp entrance, looking towards the soft dawn sky as the sun slowly climbed from behind the rolling hills. It was a clear day, and warm for newleaf, but the breeze promised to be brisk. The gentle fragrance of blooming heather drifted on the wind, and the apprentice looked forward to her first training session with Zinnia. Her gaze travels over the rolling hills and expansive sky, lifting upward to seek out the whispy clouds and high flying birds. The wind that pushed at her fur wound deep into her soul, and Sweetpaw heard the moor-call again. It beat in time with her heart, settling deep in her bones and waiting for her to step into the sunlight. Still, she waits patiently for her mentor, expression mild and pensive as the moor holds her attention. As she waits her thoughts drift as they often do, to her training, hunting, refreshing the forms she had seen the warriors and older apprentices fall into, to her friends, who would be going on similar outings, the clan, and the finally resting moor that captivated her.

The camp is quiet still, being early, but the tabby doesn’t seem to have any qualms about being awake. Her ears twitch as the grass ripples on the moor and the breeze ruffles her short fur. Despite meticulous grooming it never seemed to lay flat, and maybe that bothers her, but not enough to disrupt the motions of everyday life. Sweetpaw curls her tail neatly around her feet as she waits, the moor-call a persistent hum in the deepest reaches of her chest.

Zinnia followed the breezes to the edge of camp, where her apprentice was waiting. "Sweetpaw," she greeted pleasantly, the dawning sun's rays casting a soft sort of glow on everything that surrounded them. "It's a lovely morning, wouldn't you say? I take it you're ready for your training to start, so let's begin."

She stood tall, with the pride of a warrior, though she wasn't sure she felt it. She was a peaceful, patient cat, for the most part; the sort prone to daydreams and lost thoughts. All the same, however, she believed it was important to teach confidence and courage to her charges among other virtues. Patience and kindness, those were WindClan's graces, as she had experienced them. But there was more to being a warrior than a kind heart.

Sweetpaw raises as her mentor approaches, the slight twitch of her tail tip the only giveaway to her carefully contained excitement. It was almost surreal, standing here, about to face her first day of training after six moons of waiting. She dips her head at Zinnia's greeting, and wonders idly what the day would hold. Zinnia seemed confident and the she-cat was glad to have a capable mentor to guide her. Though quiet and easy-going Sweetpaw was determined to throw herself into training.

"What are we doing first?" She asked, turning her full attention to Zinnia.

"We'll explore the territory - I'll show you each of the borders, and tell you what I know of the other clans," Zinnia explained, tail curled around her side. "If the weather is still as pleasant, we can go on a hunting patrol once that's done. Follow me."

Sweetpaw nodded, and followed the pale warrior out of camp. The sun was warm against her pelt as they left the patchy shade of the gorse wall. She raises her head, the heather blushed in shades of purple, and the wind that rippled the long swaying grasses was clear and sharp. She swallowed another lungful, and slowed briefly to stretch her back legs before catching up with Zinnia in a few short bounds. She padded along quietly, absorbing the dynamic openness of the moor as if memorize it in a single glance.  

There was a peace here, as if she was caught between one breath and another. The sky seem to stretch wide, reaching down to settle over the moor, bathed in swaths of golden morning light. The ever present breeze seemed playful, as another gust carded through her ruffled fur. Still she followed faithfully after her mentor, ears pricked to any information or advice the she-cat might offer.

"The Thunderpath is our border with ShadowClan," Zinnia explained as they neared it. "It's difficult to wind up here by accident, given the overwhelming scent, and it's dangerous because of the monsters that pass by. If you keep your distance, they won't see you. ShadowClan is the same, in my experience, though how they deal with their paws always being soaked by the marsh is beyond my understanding. Their leader is Flintstar, you'll see him at the Gathering."

Carrying on, she gestured with her tail toward the Gorge. "The Gorge is the border we share with RiverClan - again, it's dangerous to get too close. I don't know much about RiverClan cats, other than that they swim and fish, but their leader is named Ivystar."

As she made her way toward a field of newleaf flowers, she kept talking. "ThunderClan are our allies. They live in the forest, and their leader is called Oakstar. Lastly, there's SkyClan. I don't know so much about them, either... But when the clans were in danger Spottedstar left us to fight the Righteous Few on our own. Oh, forgive my bitterness, Sweetpaw - you're not deserving of it. Neither is SkyClan itself. Some of their warriors stayed behind to fight with us."

Finally, she came to a halt, sitting patiently. "Do you have any questions, Sweetpaw? I can answer them while we're hunting."

Padding along behind Zinnia, Sweetpaw was taken aback by the acid foulness of the air as they neared the Thunderpath. She flattens her ears in disgust, the hard black stone cut through the territory unnaturally made her head ache with the foulness of it and a sense of unease prickled at her hide. She nods, listening intently to her mentor as she explained the borders. She would have to remember that information for the coming gathering. She was relieved when Zinnia's path veered away and they continued on to the gorge. Even from afar the apprentice could hear the low roar of the water below. The river must be swollen with the recent rain.

As Zinnia continued to speak the small tabby didn't miss the venom in her voice as she mentioned the SkyClan leader. "It's fine, don't apologize. I know your're not upset with me." She soothes with a dismissive flick of her tail. She sits beside her mentor, curling her feathery tail neatly around her paws. She thought for a moment, turning over the tidal wave of information that sloshed around in her skull. She shuffled her paws, tail flicking nervously before she met her mentors gaze. "I really don't know a lot about the righteous few, I was just a kit when the worst of it was happening, but.. She starts, quietly, glancing at Zinnia as if she might upset the she-cat with the very mention of the threat that had loomed over the clans not so long ago. "Do you think they are really gone? That they won't seek revenge for losing?" Her voice is timid and she ducks her head, a bit ashamed of asking such a kit-brained question.

"I believe they are well and truly defeated," Zinnia said simply. "One of them came to her senses, and fought to reverse what little harm could be undone - I was defending her for much of the fight, believing that if she wanted to do good she should have the chance to do so, and observing the rest of it. StarClan themselves descended on the Gathering once she set them free, and they set their judgment upon them all in turn. The Righteous Few are no longer of much concern, whether or not they still walk the skies - they no longer have the powers of StarClan. A more pressing concern, as life carries on, is those few cats who believe as they did."

She fell into a hunting crouch, spotting a rabbit a short distance away that hadn't yet noticed them. "Watch closely," she instructed, praying to her own ancestors that she managed to make this catch. Slow and steady, she crept closer before pouncing on her prey. She caught it with ease, carrying it back to Sweetpaw with a satisfied smile. "Why don't you give it a try? And if you miss, don't worry too much - it will come to you in time. We're just as much hunters as warriors, after all."

The member 'Holly' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 1

Sweetpaw was eased by her mentors confident reply. And while she was doubtful such a disruption to clan life would fade quickly, at least Zinnia seemed more concerned about lingering effects on mortal cats, a concept much easier to grasp. The tabby nodded, and straightened her shoulders, it was time to worry about the here and now and how she could provide for her clan. That's what was important. She watches with rapt attention, hardly daring to breath as Zinnia crept closer to the rabbit for fear of spoiling her catch. She was impressed her mentor skillful ease while hunting, and when her time came, tried to mimic Zinnia balanced crouch as close as she could.

She waits patiently, mouth open to catch the scent of prey. There. A flash of feathers in the grass. The apprentice had never caught a bird before, and it wouldn't be an easy catch. But it seemed Zinnia wasn't going to be too disappointed if she missed, and really she couldn't ignore something that could potentially feed the clan. In all honestly, Sweetpaw was unsure of the best way to stalk a bird. Taking a steadying breath, the tabby paced forward, one slow paw step at a time, her belly fur nearly brushing the ground. She was a sudden blue comet, an explosion of motion emerging from the thick moor-grass. She leaps towards the bird, claws outstretched. She hoped to pin the bird with her claws before it could take off, but it was gone, squawking an alarm call. From the surrounding grass more birds took wing, where they flocked and fled on the thermals. Was it normal to scare so many birds on one failed attempt?

Sweetpaw turns to look at Zinnia, puzzled and maybe a little sheepish for her failed attempt, when something casts a dark shadow over the wiry apprentice. She barely hears the screech as the eagle dives, and something cold settles in the pit of her stomach. Eagle. The fear that makes her fur bristle seems molten as it surges through her veins. She thinks of Wildpaw, in the moment before her thin skin rips, and Sweetpaw has never truly thought about how lucky they all are. The dangers of the open moor suddenly seemed sharp and brutal, the wind more harsh, the sun more intense, and everything spins. Her paws can't feel the earth and the talons of the great bird snag and catch in her pelt, which was suddenly painfully thin against the wickedness that pierces it, as if she were as fragile as a leaf, buffeted and torn in a storm. The sky is painfully blue as she rolls, claws swiping at the callous skin around the bird's talons as she is knocked away, a pitiful flesh and bone rag doll in the beady eyes of the bird. The eagle screeches in fury and releases the apprentice, rocketing skyward, tufts of her blue/grey fur caught in its grasp. Sweetpaw gasps, a ragged breath searing through her chest and she realized the world isn't moving. The sky is stationary, the earth sun-soaked and stable beneath her. She knows she is bleeding, the ragged gashes on her back are infernally hot and sticky. The openness of the moor she loves is suddenly too exposed, there is nowhere to hide, as the shadow circles and sweeps lower. The war cry is ringing in her ears, filling up every space in her skull and her chest is still to heavy to take a full breath. Maybe, maybe if she didn't fear for her life and the danger of existing was closing in, she might have laughed at the irony.

She pushes her paws beneath her, and the world tilts, her skin burns, as if the cruel talons had ripped her pelt clean off instead. Things are a little hazy, out of focus, blurred by fear and perhaps the blood loss. She looks of Zinnia first, the eagle second. It was still circling, pushing lower, testing, waiting, to come back and score it's easy meal. And she wonders if they will make it back to camp.

Sweetpaw tried to catch a bird, but was unsuccessful! (-3 SP)
Eagle used Talon Strike on Sweetpaw, doing 10 damage and costing 10 SP

Sweetpaw (10/20--77/80) (-10)
Eagle (60/60--190/200)

The member 'TheaOfSunflowers' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 10

"Careful, Sweetpaw! I suppose you can count this as your first battle lesson. Watch closely," Zinnia called, leaping into action with all the swiftness and grace becoming of a warrior. Her claws raked feathers, but she wouldn't be content until the bird was defeated. It wouldn't lay another talon on her apprentice, if she could help it. "Are you going to be alright? Can you still fight?"

Zinnia used Rear-Up to Slash on the Eagle, dealing 13 damage and costing 15 stamina.

Zinnia
60/60 HP
182/200 SP (-15)

Sweetpaw
10/20 HP
77/80 SP

Eagle
47/60 HP (-13)
190/200 SP

Things were happening too fast, and the ink blots that had made their home along the edges of her vision weren't helping. She thinks distantly that Zinnia might have said something. The colors of the moor were suddenly wrong, blue and gold and purple, were blurred and swelling in and out like cresting waves. The apprentice hauls herself to her paws, trembling and a jab of irritation flashes in sudden clarity that she can't stop the shivering of her torn pelt. Zinnia is a pale shadow, claws glinting as  they embedded themselves into the eagle, which screeches in outrage. Sweetpaw shakes her head, trying to set things right, but the action only worsens the static that pops and fizzles behind her eyes. "I'm fine, just a scratch.." She answers with an attempt at humor, though really she doesn't feel fine. At least things were sharpening as adrenaline relit her sluggish veins.

The eagle shakes itself from the warrior's grasp, feathers tearing free and eyes blazing. This was not what it had anticipated when swooping down for a meal. With a powerful flap of its wings the bird raises, wheeling around to fix it's gaze on the small tabby, who would be the easier catch. The bird was flying a bit awkwardly, lopsided from the damage of the warrior's claws, but it's battle cry is just as jarring as it dives with deadly precision, talons open.

Sweetpaw flattens herself into the grass in a vain attempt to evade the eagle's talons. The pain is duller than the first time, as the cruel things close around her narrow shoulders, but the panic intensifies as the apprentice realizes that the giant bird wasn't going to let go. She clings stubbornly to the ground, her claws shredding the moor grass as the bird struggles to haul her up. However her strength is ebbing, and eventually her paws leave the steadiness of the earth. The apprentices hisses, writhing madly in the birds grip as it jerks unsteadily into the air with it's cumbersome burden. She twists around in a last ditch effort and drags her back claws into the feathery underbelly of the bird. The eagle gives a startled flap of it's wings, an earsplitting screech reverberates off the inside of her skull and the talons dig deeper into her skin. Just as quickly a front paw strikes out and swipes at the callous legs, penetrating the tough skin. The eagle screeches again, instinctually dropping the squirming apprentice, and raises steadily without the extra weight.

Falling is a terrible feeling. She decides almost languidly, as the blue closes in. The sky is so big, and without the wind yanking at her whiskers or the sickening feeling rolling in her stomach it would feel like nothing was moving at all. Despite hurtling towards the ground, Sweetpaw was strangely calm, she couldn't feel her paws much, and the pain that had ripped through her back was just a dull twinge now. Maybe her tired veins nerves had finally given up? The apprentice drops like a stone, and as the seconds fall into obscurity, the last thing she sees the is sky. The tabby hits the ground with nothing more than a muted thump. She lies still and graceless, an afterthought in the golden grass that broke her fall.

The eagle, now greatly agitated and quite sore, swoops down and lands besides the cats, feathers ruffled threateningly. It hops towards the pair, searching for its dropped catch in the grass. It's beady eyes remained fixed on the larger cat, as if daring her to try and run it off.



Sweetpaw uses belly rake and swift strike on the Eagle, doing 9 damage and costing 20 SP
Eagle uses Swoop on Sweetpaw, doing 20 damage and costing 20 SP

Sweetpaw (-10/20--57/80) (-20)
Eagle (38/60--170/200) (-9)

Sweetpaw is KO'ed

"Sweetpaw!" Zinnia exclaimed, before a low hiss escaped her. She turned back to the bird with unrestrained fury, slashing at its wings in an attempt to down it completely. "You've crossed a line," she said, soft and low, to a bird that didn't understand a single word she spoke. It didn't need to understand her words, however, to understand her intent.

Zinnia used Rending Front Paws on the Eagle, dealing 13 damage and costing 25 stamina.

Zinnia
60/60 HP
157/200 SP (-25)

Eagle
25/60 HP (-13)
170/200 SP

Sweetpaw
KO'd

The eagle is forced to shift it's attention to the larger cat, and beats it's large wings threateningly in response to the hiss. However it did not expect the creature to leap at it with such fieriness. Screeching in rage, the bird strikes at the she-cats face with sharp talons in an attempt to reclaim it's meal. However the bird quickly realized this was not a battle it would win. With a choked noise the eagle attempted to gain air, struggling from the she-cats heavy blows. Finally it got air and rose awkwardly, missing feathers and splattering blood like vibrant rain. Knowing it would never claim it's catch with the warrior defending it, the bird abandons the hunt and flees. It's shadow shrinks to nothing as it catches the high thermals and vanishes to nothing more than a speck in the wild blue above, a scrap of grey fur still held tight in it's grip.

Somewhere deep in the darkness that smothered her senses, there was a breeze. Of sweet grass and wild blue, sunglow warmth and sharply bitter blood. There is a ragged rise and fall of the apprentices sides, a flutter of the grass before her nose. But there is no movement. She is easily a body forgotten in the grass, blue and grey and rust. There is a crack of consciousness, a flicker of sunlight from somewhere behind her listless lids. Slowly, there is a spark of pain that fizzles out before it can be named or where it's coming from. And then is another cresting wave of nothingness and the patchwork awareness that was blooming beneath her skin withers. Like an eagle's shadow, she dives back into darkness, nothing more than slow-heaving sides and butterfly breaths.

Eagle used Talon Strike on Zinnia, doing 10 damage and costing 10 SP

The Eagle flees!

Zinnia (50/60--157/200) (-10)

Eagle (25/60--160/200)

Sweetpaw is KO'ed