better all the time; [skyy]

The forest smelt alive after the rain. It soaked deep into the greenery, into the branches and ground, and coaxed the strong scents of the plant life, up into the open air. It swirled around on the wind, rushing through the trunks and up to merge with the cold air of the passing clouds overhead. To Pinestar, it was the scent of the season, and he inhaled it without hesitation, savouring the richness of the soil and the leaves around him. His paws moved slowly, but with precision, amber eyes cutting through the bushes and small shrubs that littered the mostly clear ground of the territory. His long pelt remained flat against his body in an attempt to avoid getting caught on anything as he passed.

It was these moments, the scents, the way the trees grew, that had his focus. Not so much the location. The goal had simply been walking, perhaps to the borders to check no one else of the clan had stepped too far out of place. The issues that could come with RiverClan had yet to stop plaguing his mind. Even so, if anything, they had received a reprimand. Magpiethorn was no longer leader, a surprising bit of news to come from across the border on the tongue of one of his warriors. Nor did Ashenfang stand as their new head of the charge. It seemed that, for whatever reason, their little border squabble was something much bigger. Duckstar would no doubt prove an interesting leader in herself.

He had little knowledge of the warrior who had taken the reigns of RiverClan, beyond a vague memory of a twisted leg and words of persistent training. That might prove itself interesting. However, not a threat. A young, damaged cat leading the clan would never scare him into forming deeper security of his borders. Ashenfang may have proved different case entirely. A noise and the slight change in scent on the wind had Pinestar coming to a halt, ears swivelling forward and focusing on it. Not that he needed to wait long. “Hey, up for a sparring match? I’ll need someone to practice on, after all; trees don’t present much of a challenge. Neither do birds for that matter.”

For a moment, the leader remained silent. Lioncloud, he knew without having to think hard, was a cat who took much interest in fighting over much else. That had been evident enough on his hunting trips of late alongside Elksong and her. While producing enough entertainment to keep them going, it did leave him curious. He’d named her a warrior after all. Maybe it was time to see if she was meeting the standard. Pinestar turned toward the direction of the voice and pushed forward, slipping between the branches of two bushes, to come face-to-face with the she-cat, only a foxlength away. “Well, I’d want to hope they didn’t, doesn’t say much for the cat,” he meowed, voice naturally loud in the quiet forest.

Pinestar scanned the she-cat over, taking a few steps forward, standing tall with his shoulders back. “Let’s spar, then. You’ve got my interest. Let’s see if you’re still worth your warrior name.” The leader came to a standstill and turned to face her front-on, a small smirk twitching at his features.