Battle Training

[fαllεη •]

That fall neatly blinked the sand out of the warrior's eyes, and he looked at Strickenshadow to make sure that his opponent wasn't going to press the advantage. The dark tom was surprised to see that he wasn't. Strickenshadow was just standing there, as if waiting to see if he was... Great StarClan, was he actually concerned? Inside his mind Tigerpelt went into a full-blown laughing fit. This was just the sort of convenient twist he needed to match Strickenshadow's dirty trick with one of his own. He could use this to his advantage during the rest of the fight. And it would be more of an advantage than the horrible feeling of sand under his tongue. It was incredibly unpleasant in his mouth, and therefore unacceptably distracting, but it was a pittance compared to the idea of losing to Strickenshadow.

"Have you had enough?"
Oh, that was just the insult on injury, wasn't it? Tigerpelt forced himself not to grit his teeth. He kept his eyes resolutely down, swaying ever-so-slightly: just enough to suggest that he wasn't quite one-hundred percent. With the skill of an experienced actor, he raised his eyes to look at the white tom. 'Ignore the fury. You'll get to teach him his place soon.' His eyes were heavy and still prickled from the sand, and they were getting quite wet. He mulled for a second, looking for a way to channel the fury that was exploding in his chest, without alerting Strickenshadow to his next scheme. It was the oldest in the book (second only so 'Live longer than they do and dance on their grave') but it was seldom used because of that fact.

Or maybe that was Tigerpelt's ten more moons of experience talking.

"Not nearly enough, little'un," he called, the sand giving the right amount of hoarseness to his tone. He'd wait for Strickenshadow to come for him this time. And this time, despite his faulty stance, he was better prepared. "Are you ready to go back to the nursery?"

[//Sunneh// is FuMiNg]

Strickenshadow watched as Tigerpelt recovered a bit from his fall. He knew the burly warrior found it amusing that he had held back, but Strickenshadow remembered the words of his mentor:

"Mercy isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign of strength, especially when you win despite your kindness."
A strange sentiment for an IvyClan warrior, but Strickenshadow believed it was true. Well, in some cases. Not that I was showing mercy, the white tom told himself. It was more of a demonstration of...Oh, foxdung, I'm getting soft. I need to work on that, he chided himself, then raised his glossy brow as Tigerpelt spoke, his voice rougher than usual. Strickenshadow guessed it was because of the sand.

"Not nearly enough, little'un. Are you ready to go back to the nursery?"
Strickenshadow bristled noticeably at the jab at his size. In most cases he would of flung himself at his opponent, screaming, "Don't you dare call me short, you fox-hearted peice of crowfood!" But this was a different kind of battle, much to Strickenshadow's annoyance. Though Tigerpelt was wiry, he was also a bit--how could he put this?--massive, and had an impressive set of muscles. No, blind rage wouldn't this battle. Cunning would. And Strickenshadow refused to lose to Tigerpelt--he couldn't afford to.

He flicked his black-tipped tail dismissively, then replied, "Not quite yet, you oversized lump." Strangely enough, Strickenshadow was still grinning widely. His teeth, slightly blood-stained from his last meal, flashed dully as he continued. "But it's nice to know that you care about my well-being." Sarcasm, thick and sweet, dripped from his voice like honey. It still ranked that he would have to think this fight through, but victory was worth it.

Strickenshadow started foward. He noted that Tigerpelt's eyes were watery and still sensitive from the sand. Strickenshadow cursed his light-colored pelt--it was basically screaming his position to the dark warrior. He rolled his shoulders, then charged. Strickenshadow twisted his torso, ready to smash his elbow into Tigerpelt's throat. His muscles were tensed--if Tigerpelt dodged, he would bring his paw, bony with his sheathed claws, into the back of the warriors neck. But if Tigerpelt deflected...Strickenshadow would have to improvise.