The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

7. Trouble With Neighbors

     Bitter cold chilled Palepaw to the bone, but he refused to shiver. He kept his muscles tight as he walked and his one-and-a-half ears perked. His eyes moved from tree to tree, bush to bush, and his fur prickled. He hated training without Shadowclaw.  

     The grass beneath his paws was shorter now, trampled by moons of practice. His eyes quickly caught Tidefoot and Rainfall at one side of the clearing. Rainfall had her bad leg lifted as she faced Tidefoot, and she dug her claws into the earth before crouching and lunging. Tidefoot dodged to the side and slapped her flank, sending her off balance, and she twisted and hit the ground hard. She laid still for a moment before bursting out into a giggling fit. “I’m getting slower and slower.” 

     It’s because you’re getting fat. Palepaw narrowed his eyes at the she-cat. Stop taking so much prey off the pile. He was in a foul mood. He always seemed to be on days that he had to guard Helen, which seemed to be almost every day. Then again, she had only been there for two days thus far, so it wasn’t a lot of time spent near her. Still, he was already sick of her reek. She smelled like a fox had eaten a thunderpath and pushed the dung out on her pelt. 

     “Alright,” Froststrike meowed, sending a glance towards the two warriors in the clearing. There was a twinkle of amusement and understanding, as well as a sly gleam that screamed “I KNOW SOMETHING YOU DON’T!” 

     Can we start our training now? If I have to stand still here any longer, my paws will freeze to the ground! 

     Froststrike turned to Palepaw and studied him for a moment. “This is our first day actually working together, since you’ve been busy with other duties, so I’m going to warn you that things will be much different.” The cheery glisten in his eyes was gone, replaced by a hard glow of determination and scrutiny. “My standards are much higher.” 

     “So that’s why Redwing is so angry all the time,” Palepaw huffed. Froststrike’s ears fell back, and for a moment he looked disappointed. 

     Then, his ears perked up. Now, he seemed wired. “Attack me. I want to see what you can do.” 

     Easy enough. I’ll knock you to the ground! Palepaw lowered himself so that his belly touched the forest floor. The ground was cold, sucking the heat out from his fur. I’ll try a simple run and tackle trick. If he rears back, I’ll slip to the side. Ready, he rushed forward, allowing his claws to scrape the grass as he ran. Froststrike jumped to the side and lashed out with one large, horribly heavy paw and slammed it against Palepaw’s head. The young tom’s mind went blank, his ears buzzing as he hit the ground. He rolled to his paws and shook his head. 

     That was a hard hit! So that’s how we’re going to do this? Two can play unfairly. Palepaw charged again, only he jumped to the side and curled around. As Froststrike twisted, Palepaw swiped upwards and slapped the warrior’s lower jaw. Froststrike’s head was snapped up, and he scrambled back before lunging. Palepaw ducked, and the tabby flew over him. Perfect! 

     And pain shot through his side. A pair of strong hind paws crashed into his shoulder and flank, and he was shoved down. He was pinned, and claws dug into his neck in a threatening fashion. Froststrike’s green eyes locked with his. “You’re not angry enough.” 

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” Palepaw demanded, trying to fight out of Froststrike’s grip. “What does anger have to do with it?” 

     “Anger drives a cat into battle, and will get them through it,” Froststrike answered calmly. Weight lifted from Palepaw’s side, and he scrambled up and hissed.