The power of Starclan [Frost x Rowan] compels ye

[Whiskers]

He had not taken no for an answer.

Rowanheart didn't care that Frostpaw hated him. He didn't care that she had better things to do. He was sick of being pushed around by an apprentice, he was sick of bending to her whims when it came to training, and he was sick of feeling like a terrible mentor. He was going to teach Frostpaw a lesson, whether he did it through brute force or not.

It's why he had dragged her here today. He didn't know if any training was going to get done (he hoped so) but he wanted something to happen, something to... to move. They had been fighting head-to-head and no one had budged an inch. Rowanheart didn't know what to expect; but he was expecting something.

There were no more formalities anymore. Too much had been said for Rowanheart to treat her with any respect. " Alright you little brat, here are the facts. I'm your mentor, you can't change it. You're my apprentice, I can't change that. But that makes me superior to you in this clan. I have control over when you will become a warrior and if you ever want to get rid of me-- and I'm pretty sure you do-- then you have to learn to listen to me."

He raised his chin and looked down upon her, his tail lashing behind him in a steady rhythem. "So. Are you going to be a selfish, irritating, smart-alecky kit" he sneered, using one of the words she loved so much, "or are you going to try and behave yourself?"

Rowanheart felt the wind brush through his pelt and took it as encouragement from Starclan. Today, they encouraged his anger, his strictness. Somehow, someway, Frostpaw would become an obediant warrior. Then he could be rid of her.

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[Rolo]

So, it had finally happened?

Frostpaw felt like smirking and frowning simultaneously. Somehow it had happened. Somehow Rowanheart had lost all control and had fallen to the level where insults and kit logic had taken the place of restraint and real logic. It was both sad, for even she hadn't thought that Rowanheart would ever become so heavy handed, yet sadistically pleasing. She liked the idea that she had effected him, make him less saintly and less passive. It made her proud to know that she truely had messed up his world, just as he had hurt hers beyond repair.

Frostpaw listened to his rant, stopping several smiles from crossing her face as he attempted desperately to subdue her with more and more insults. She had a look of patience upon her face that even a saint would commend. Seating herself a few mouse-lengths away and adopting a position where her form was relaxed and her head cocked slightly, she remained completely mute and attentive.

Though not even a slight hint of it crossed her face or form, really she was itching to leap in and rip apart his arguements. They were hardly foolproof, hardly warrior even, and she could see every little hole she could exploit for her purpose, every instance of lack of control. If she had allowed herself to, she could have easily cited any of them to show the ginger cat how ridiculous he was being. Yet, she restrained herself. She knew that the time for speaking was done now (... or more... temporarily postponed?) and the time for action had come.

It was going to take alot of patience and it was going to frustrate her, but she'd do it. She'd prove him wrong... in so many ways.

Frostpaw made herself stop thinking, letting instinct take over. She took a deep breath.

"So, Rowanheart!" She mewed with a smile, bounding towards him. "What are we going to do today?"

She stretched leisurely beside him, her movements fluid and full of ease. Though her body was most obviously that of a young adults, she nearly looked like an apprentice now. In fact, she had managed, somehow, to look more like an unburdened kit than a grumpy too-old apprentice. Her voice had held an element of muted excitement, the tone of a new apprentice she had learnt to imitate immaculately. It held an innocence that seemed almost unnatural in her mouth, portraying a mind free of anything dark.

She was the image of placidity, dull and eager.

She flicked into this role in but a moment. She was a master of tones, she found it semi-easy. She just had to remind herself that Rowanheart was no longer Rowanheart, for he was another red cat she prefered, and that this was the only way to prove her mentor wrong, in order not to break out of it in disgust.

She yawned, "Can we do a mock battle today? I'd like that. You know how much hunting bores me."

Her eyes glittered good naturedly, flashing a tiny bit of the true her as she muttered the deadpan statement.

Rowanheart thought she couldn't fight or hunt, eh? She'd show him she knew more than he liked to acknowledge. He thought she was going to complain about training and insult him? She'd be the image of pleasantness. She would turn his world upside-down. To truely confuse him, to prove him wrong, that was her aim. She didn't care if she never became a warrior if only she could do this.

She would show him.

[Whiskers]

Stop. Rewind. There had to be a mistake, Rowanheart must have heard wrong. Because for the life of him, he did not just hear -- it was impossible, after all-- Frostpaw agree to train with him. Dear Starclan, is this yet another test of my strength? Of my faith? Is Frostpaw tricking me, trying to make me trust her...? Oh if she is, please help me.

Rowanheart left his silent prayer to float up to the listening ears of Starclan, turning his attention back on Frostpaw. Where had all her bitterness and anger gone? Had it flown away the instant he had dared to insult her and sink to her level? Rowanheart had envisioned her taking his bait and instantly insulting him back. It was her way. She was not mature enough to act otherwise, after all, because Frostpaw got her kicks out of irritating him.

So how in the world was she irritating him by behaving?! This is what he wanted!

Baffled to the extreme (and showing it), Rowanheart got to his paws, his eyes staring holes into Frostpaw's pelt. "Wh-- you want-- you actually want to train?" he spluttered wildly, unable to properly comprehend it. His mind kept hopping back to the "it's a trap!" explanation, because really, what else could it be? But what if she really did want to train? What if he lost this opportunity to teach her something by being so paranoid? Or what if he let his guard down and she struck again, at his pride, at his family, at his faith! And suppose her sin was caught on her fur and he became impure? And maybe--

She drives me crazy. She is literally driving me crazy. This is what she wants, for me to be a raving lunatic! Well I'll show her! I can see through her tricks, I know her game well! By Starclan, I shall trick the trickster!

"Well we've only had a few mock fight sessions in the past so I suppose we could revisit your poor hunting skills later on today. Besides, you can't defend yourself with words in battle-- you'll need your claws." Rowanheart put on a smile.

"So. Offense or defense, Frostpaw?"

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw had prepared herself for his reaction, one she had predicted would be suitably confused, yet she only just managed to halt a giggle in her throat. Seeing him like this was even funnier than she had imagined it would be. He had paused so obviously in his tracks, it delighted her and set a deep fire of determination in her heart. His stutters made her want to purr. It was sadistic, she didn't usually gain such happiness from messing with cats brains in such a way, but she loved it. She felt powerful and in control.

She knew now that he was suitably deflated and she was back in control. She held all the cards now, he would be desperately trying to come up with an explanation and so would following her every lead. He'd be questioning her motives, and so she would plant the ones she wished him to believe she had.

"Yes." She said bluntly, retaining enough of her old self to seem real but not enough to seem cold. "Have you ever known me not to say what I mean?"

Blocking out all thoughts that this was the cat she hated most, she managed to summon a warm purr.

"And no. I won't talk cats to death in battle, that would be mouse-brained." She smiled, running around him in a kit-like way, "I can use my claws, anyway. Much easier than using your tongue. But, isn't it strategy that is more important in battle?"

She came to a stop in front of him, crouching down elegantly into a pouncing pose, her muscles tense.

"And I don't see the point in taking either stance. Why not just..." she trailed off, smirking mischievously, "start battling and see who wins? Claws and teeth only. I promise not to talk you to death if you do the same for me."

[Whiskers]

There was not one moment that Rownaheart's eyes left Frostpaw. They were locked on, she was the target, and he would not lose her. Even as she messed around, donning the mask of an innocent Fogclan apprentice (ha ha, nice try Frostpaw!) he tracked her like he would his prey. Each moment she made meant something-- he just knew it. Every blink of the eye, every glittering wink, and every single word that slithered out of her mouth...it was all code for what was really going on behind her facade.

And yes, he would go along with this play. Rowanheart could act too, after all. He knew that if he concentrated hard enough, he could shut his book and Frostpaw would read him no more! She would be equally confused, maybe even more so. Right? Right.

But he had to be careful. Because even though they would be physically fighting, it would still be a battle of wits. It always was.

"Well stances are important, Frostpaw. If you're ambushed, you need to know how to properly react to that situation. If unprepared, you'll either be badly wounded or viciously killed before you know it." Rowanheart informed. Strange how he was actually teaching her stuff. Though she probably didn't care.

Rowanheart stood up. "But if you insist on no stance, then we'll take no stance. It'll be a learning experience and you'll soon discover how important being prepared is."

The ginger warrior faced his apprentice, claws now out, his muscles flexing. He didn't know whether to strike or to let Frostpaw try and land the first blow. While she was... not a kit anymore, he was still bigger and stronger and, of course, more experienced. I'll have to go easy on her, Rowanheart thought to himself and then chuckled. He had never thought he would think that sentence when it came to dear ol' Frostpaw.

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw watched him as he thought, seeing the way he kept his eyes trained upon her. It didn't frighten her, knowing she was being so closely watched, it encouraged her. She knew he was suspicious (what cat wouldn't be?), and that he probably thought he would be playing her at his own game. That was exactly what she wanted him to think. There was little chance he would outsmart her in that area, since her motives were relatively pure, so she wanted him to play against her. She wanted to prove him wrong. She wanted to show Rowanheart gently that she was more suited to being a warrior than he had thought, she wanted to show him how much his bias towards her had made him blind to her suitability. She was scorning him slightly, yes, but she wasn't aiming at stabbing claws in his back as soon as it was turned. She was hoping that this subtle move towards proving herself might make him listen and be open a little more... for, although hurting him was pretty high on her agenda, hurting Finchpaw was not.

"Cripes, Rowanheart." She said with a purr of laughter, "Stop looking at me as if I'm going to turn into a fox! Is it so surprising that I'm not in the mood to argue aimlessly in a neverending circle? It gets as frustrating for me as it does for you."

She licked her lips, her eyes glittering in the sunlight.

"And anyway, what if I actually want to practice for once?" She said this so bluntly and matter-of-factly, she sounded almost annoyed.

Her ears twitched slightly, as she looked at the surroundings for a moment, as if she was pausing in thought. Once again, Rowanheart was underestimating her abilities, spewing out kit-level teachings she had learnt moons ago. It was frustrating. She had an extreme urge to just tell him to shut up and just fight her. But that wouldn't help her cause, she forced herself to be patient.

"But anyway, I already know what to do in a battle situation." She mewed with another chuckle, "I've been in a few boarder skirmishes before. Besides, it's pretty blantantly obvious in battle which stance you take when. Instincts help with that. If a cat is coming to attack you, it's always defensive and then offensive when the opportunity comes. On the other hand, if you're attacking first, it's always offensive... since sitting and blocking a cat who isn't yet attacking you would be mouse-brained."

She ignored his second remark. The patronising tone was more than she could bare to deal with calmly, so she decided to grit her teeth and ignore it altogether. Besides, Rowanheart would be expecting a reply, and since she hated his preaching about being prepared, she was going to do the most unpredictable thing possible.

Frostpaw, already facing the warrior in a ready pose, moved in a flash as soon as her last word left her mouth. Moving to Rowanheart's left, she swiftly twisted round his body and attempted to knock him from the side with her shoulder. It was an attempt to offbalance him, knowing her strength was her greatest asset. She quickly drew her flanks out of the ginger cat's reach, lest he try to scratch her rear. It was an unusual move, one that was purely tactical. It was designed to confuse and disorientate an enemy and open them for further attacks. It was neatly executed, and she was even careful enough not to press on Rowanheart so much to give away the full extent of her strength.

[Whiskers]

Rowanheart half-listened to Frostpaw's answer, as whatever she was spouting was sure to be nothing but a pile of mousedung. Sides, he had said all that was needed to be said, no need for Frostpaw to open her mouth and rattle on. He was tired of talk. The warrior stifled his yawn, and whiskers twitching, he knelt into a battle stance, impatience growing as she continued. Bla bla bla, all he wanted to do was attack her, and see what she had learned, if anything at all. He doubted she would be very prepared. Despite her words, Frostpaw didn't know how to do anything but talk an enemy to death--

Frostpaw became a blur of silver and white as she raced toward him. Surprised, Rowanheart didn't move. No he froze, his brain put on neutral. Frostpaw was attacking him? But he was going to-- but she didn't know-- but...!

Rowanheart lost his footing as a rough blow was delivered to his flank. Almost stumbling and falling, he managed to balance himself with his tail, though not before looking like a fool. Turning around and hissing (the noise was purely instinct though it might have had to do with Frostpaw being, well, Frostpaw) his claws sprang forth and they whistled through the air toward his quick-footed apprentice.

Ah, but Frostpaw was a slippery thing and had already moved. Amazement and annoyance coarsed through him at once. She had taken him off guard. She had predicted his moves. She had... done well.

The thought caused a roaring sensation in his stomach. Frostpaw, doing well? But how? He had taught her nothing! The only...possible answer...was that she was cheating somehow! Yes, yes, of course, Frostpaw would never play fair, that was not her game. That made sense. Rowanheart nodded to himself and then found his battle stance again. It was his turn. He would show Frostpaw how real, noble Fogclan warriors fought.

Rowanheart retaliated with a quick, forceful strike. He was not into tricks and charades, but in getting the job done. When he fought, he fought using only his instinct. And his instinct told him to dominate. He sprang on top of Frostpaw, planning to pin her down so she could no longer move whatsoever. It was a little unfair of him-- he was so big and she, while a good sized cat, had a severe disadvantage in that area. But Rowanheart figured that since Frostpaw was so smart and so ready to be a warrior (ha) that she could use her brain to get out of under his hold.

And if she didn't, well, at least Rowanheart had won. And he quite enjoyed winning.

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw whipped around, turning to face her supposed tutor almost as soon as she was far enough away from him. She was focused, a deadly calm and poise radiating from her body. Unlike her normal stance, one which was filled with a relaxed and disalarming laziness, her body held a rough grace, her movements were precise and deliberate. She was transformed, so serenely confident it would shock cats to see her.

Her eyes never left his form as she waited for her mentor to realise she had made her move, alert and waiting for his return. She half expected him to have sensed her attack before she made it, readying himself to counter immediately but this was not the case. His body held a stillness and shock that she instantly recognised as that which comes with confusion. She acknowledged his stance in a mere second, not dwelling on the small triumph, feeling no more than a slight pang of happiness. In this state, she was so focused she saw nothing but the enemy and their body language, cluing her into their future moves.

As she suspected, Rowanheart did the instinctual thing and attempted to scratch her flanks. It was a sign that he had truely been confused by her, as a focused warrior would have at least guessed that their attacker would defend against such counters.

However, she didn't have much time to think before the warrior sprang from where he was and landed squarely on top of her. It was not the typical move she would have expected after the last failed counter, but she knew that it wasn't a particularly strong or unpredictable move. If he had done the same attack from the opposite direction, it could have been a rather formidable one, but landing face to tail upon her was not ever likely to work... unless she had no strength at all.

Frostpaw instinctively braced herself, lowering her crouch and so the impact would not hurt so much. She forced herself to wait until she felt his paws on her back before rolling with all of her strength to the right, raising her left side slightly as she did so. This manoeuver caused her to push Rowanheart to the right and off of her, so he slid off of her easily before claws had even had a chance to grip at her pelt.

She could not see what her move had done to the Tom as she rolled swiftly, and she hoped that he had been unbalanced in some way. Unfortunately, this move put them both as a disadvantage as either side could regain their footing first and land the first strike whilst the other attempted to recover. Gaining her footing as quickly as possible, she whipped around to see where her mentor was, not knowing whether she would see him toppled upon the ground or turn to find a set of claws in her face.

[Whiskers]

Rowanheart’s move was instantly rendered useless by the crafty Frostpaw. His mind was now in a tizzy, spinning out of control as he wondered where she had gotten so good. He knew that she was smart (sneaky, mean and devilish, but still smart) but an apprentice like her, so annoying and so untamable, should be stumbling over her paws by now, shaken by the sheer experience of her opponent. But Frostpaw was like ice. She was too slippery and too unnerving, Rowanheart couldn’t get a grip.

As she rolled out from under him, Rowanheart’s desperation grew as he found himself slipping again, though his recovery time was getting better. He wanted to blame all his mistakes on his rustiness, since, thank Starclan, there had been no major battles between the clans lately. But he knew that it was also because of his mindset. Every part of his body was screaming of foul play, howling for justice or for a better explanation. It was time to get real though. Frostpaw was good. As much as it pained him to admit so, Rowanheart begrudgingly did. He couldn’t underestimate her anymore. If anything…this should make him happy that Frostpaw cared about her future. Sure, she hadn’t trained with him in the past moons, but she had trained. That was slight encouragement.

With this hope, Rowanheart recovered easier from his little mess-up, muscles tensing as he picked his heavy body up and then found Frostpaw a tail-length from him, and her stance had been affected by her own move. It was a small window of opportunity and a larger, slower cat like himself would not have much of a chance at making it, especially against Frostpaw whom seemed to have a deadly combination of both strength and speed. And though the odds were against him, Rowanheart went for it.

Once again, he attacked, though this time he did not pounce, but bolted forward. He lifted up his paws and made to slash at her face, but his claws were safely tucked in and so no blood would be pulled from Frostpaw’s body today.

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[Rolo]

As the paw connected with her face, Frostpaw realised instantly that she had been the slower of the two to recover. Frostpaw could do nothing to guard against Rowanheart's swipe, still dazed from her own move and not knowing it was coming. A shot of annoyance shot through her with the knowledge that Rowanheart had once again managed to take the offensive. Frustration coursed in her veins, she felt as if she had taken one step forward and two steps back. Once again, she was left taking the defensive stance, and she was truely itching to make her own substantial attack. However, she forced herself to remain calm, knowing that there would be a window of opportunity sometime... she just had to wait.

Rowanheart's blow knocked her head sideways violently. She automatically ducked into a half-crouch, turning her neck slightly, in order to keep from falling and to make sure it didn't hurt too much. Luckily, the blow had not been a particularly hard one (and, thankfully, Rowanheart hadn't forgotten that this was a mock battle and he hadn't drawn any blood) and she so recovered quickly.

Drawing back slightly and coming to stand full height, she stood and snarled for a moment. This snarl did not hold any annoyance or anger, it was a simply a warning sign, a symbolic gesture often shared in battle with the express want to scare of a battle partner. She was unthinking, unfeeling. Without a moments thought, she found her own body recognising a moments pause in Rowanheart and launching an attack.

She pushed forward and swiped at Rowanheart thrice, one on his face, another on his chest and the other across his muzzle. Her focus was so acute now that she did not wait, nor even care, whether they had actually landed upon him, knowing that they wouldn't hurt him as her claws were sheathed anyway, and she pressed ahead with her next move.

Bowing down quickly, she launched herself towards his chest with full force, hoping that this move would both wind him and cause him to topple backwards. It was a shot in the dark, but if it worked she would most definitely be able to act on the offensive for once.