Post by feeling kinda blue on Feb 23, 2016 0:00:24 GMT
"Ooph!"
Wind gushed from Heronpaw's mouth as she collided with the ground for what felt like the hundredth time. Rolling in the sandy gravel, Heronpaw skidded to a halt sprawled out on her side, skinny long limbs sprawled out and coughing dust. Blinking mossy green eyes open, the brown tabby and white apprentice growled in frustration. Her uncle and mentor, Firestorm, had shown her a new attack move earlier that morning and at sunhigh had let her free from training to spend the day as she pleased. Naturally Heronpaw had headed straight out for the Outlook Rock because despite her uncle's teaching that morning she hadn't been able to complete the move during training. She was frustrated and determined to get it right so she could show him tomorrow that she wasn't a failure. The Outlook Rock had been an ideal place to practice because the ground around the boulders was sandy and usually pretty soft.
The attack itself involved being able to take make a high leap, high enough to spring forward and land on an enemy's back. So, Heronpaw had picked out one of the smaller, low boulders to use as a target. It was low-slung and about the height of a fully grown warrior, maybe a little bigger than a sprawled out cat. It was as close as Heronpaw was going to get to a real target. So far though all she'd done is overshoot, slide off of or totally miss her target. Her claws would slide on the stone and send her tumbling to the ground or she'd have too much momentum and slide over the boulder. A few times she underestimated how far she needed to leap forward and ended up whacking her chin on the boulder because she didn't jump far enough.
Now, the sun high and hot on her back, Heronpaw was starting to get mad. The target wasn't even moving! Why couldn't she do this? Firestorm had made it look so easy...
Growling low in her chest, Heronpaw heaved herself to her feet. Ignoring her ruffled and sandy fur, the long-legged apprentice stalked past the boulder with her tail lashing. Leaping up the ravine, Heronpaw clambered to the top and glared down at the boulder. This move required the high ground- an unusual tactic for traditional WindClan fighting techniques but Firestorm liked the odd and unusual. Crouching down, Heronpaw tried to slow her heartbeat and regulate her breathing. According to Firestorm fighting required calm or something like that. Hypocritical considering who the words came from but he was her mentor and family so Heronpaw had to at least...try to believe him. Still...it was hard. Flexing her claws in the soft moss under her feet, Heronpaw tried to breathe slowly.
"Ok...one more time," she muttered, narrowing a glare at the offending boulder.
Leaping off the ledge, Heronpaw sprang toward the boulder below and...missed. Her front claws skidded on the stone but her momentum was too high. With a small shriek the apprentice was sent flying over the boulder and again tumbling nose over tail in the sand. She rolled and skidded over the pebbly ground until her back hit one of the larger rocks, punching the wind from Heronpaw's lungs. Gasping and coughing, surrounded in a cloud of dust, Heronpaw wheezed in the shadow of the larger boulder.
'StarClan's whiskers this is hard...'
Notes: poor heron <3
Word count: 548
Tagged: sybil
