Post by lord wolfscream✰ on Mar 21, 2016 4:16:04 GMT
Dawn christens the forest in a mixture of dusky violet, peach and rose. The sun is just barely cresting the horizon, and its sister, the moon, is setting in the opposite direction. Thanks to the overhanging branches of the forest, Silverantler’s surroundings are still cloaked in shadows, but gentle sunlight slates through the trunks in shafts. He moves at a brisk pace in an attempt to ease the sluggishness from his bones, and even though he attempts to hold it in, a mighty yawn escapes his jowls.hallelujah
Silverantler had brought it upon himself the night prior that he would wake in time to see the sun rise in order to train. Some advice echoes in his mind, perhaps the voice of his late mentor. He can picture the towering, stoic tom droning on with something like, “Silverpaw, training alone is fruitless. It only solidifies errors.”— hey, that was pretty good…
Even in the dim light, thanks to his natural feline prowess to see in the dark, he can spy ahead where dirt gives way to lighter-colored granules of sand. He remembers spending many sunrises here as an apprentice, getting his haunches handed to him, mostly, and listening to Bluewatcher lecture him sternly about not lifting his rear too high in a battle stance. The thought makes Silverantler purse his maw in a little amused smile, the recollections growing stronger as his grey paws touch the soft ground of the Sandy Hollow.
He inhales, closing luminous gold irises. The scent of morning dew is heavy around him, it twinkles on leaves, blades of grass, a high-set spiderweb. Silverantler concentrates on the feeling of the loose sand slipping between his toes as he stretches them out, unsheathes and sheathes his claws while kneading. Distantly, a squirrel chatters as if to announce it has awoken, songbirds call to each other overhead. He can picture them fluttering, dancing against the warm colors of morn.
The warrior opens his eyes and exhales. He dips backward, bracing his weight in his hind legs. The darker, nearly black fur along his spine raises instinctively, and he levels his tail out behind him. He imagines his invisible enemy, a trespassing rogue, and narrows his eyes as he immerses himself into the battlefield fantasy. In it, this idiotic rogue has unknowingly challenged perhaps the finest warrior of Thunderclan (that’s him). Silverantler spits and launches himself forward, sending a spray of sand behind him.
The rogue raises on its hind legs to meet him, but Silverantler predicts the move, ducking his head and then surging forward in another impressive leap. The crown of his skull connects with the enemy cat’s belly, and the shock not only winds them but sends them flying across the clearing.
Silverantler puffs aloud, watching his imaginary enemy gasp and glare in his direction. Don’t expose your stomach, mousebrain. He says in his mind, observing with a mixture of surprise and mirth as the rogue pushes onto all fours once more. Tough guy, huh? Grinning, the night-striped warrior doesn’t allow his attacker any more time to catch their breath before bounding forward. But, the rogue would be prepared for a frontal assault this time, so Silverantler opts to surprise them yet again by twisting in a rather impressive pirouette.
He comes out of his spin with a powerful kick of his back leg, yowling an audible, "HYAH!", as his paw meets his invisible foe, skidding through the sand.
