Ugh, he was so annoying! By the time she was done with him, her throat was gonna be stripped raw. Back when she was still getting tossed around like garbage on a regular basis, even she had the sense to shut up. Where was his damn survival instinct? Did it run out of his ears?
Also, if he didn't want Stoatpaw to hear, then why the hell open his yap in the first place?! Fury radiated off her pelt in thick heat waves. Watching him cower and snivel should've made her feel good, but to her surprise, it didn't.
How could he even dare to call himself a ShadowClanner? He couldn't keep his damn mouth shut, and now he was taking his ear chewing like a whiny whelp. If he kept at it she was gonna black out and wring his skinny throat right there.
Deep breaths, Flea. Deeeeeeeep breaths.
Her eyes bore into him, nostrils fluttering wildly. She gets a little lightheaded, but it does keep her from rearranging his face and shoving his teeth where his eyeballs belonged. So she guessed it was working.
Okay. Fine. He was trying to help. Trying and doing a shit job of it, but the effort was there. He got his ears boxed and knew he messed up. That was enough... for now.
"Yeah? An' how exactly does makin' one of our own look weak in front of another clan help?" She snapped, delivering a light swat to his nose. Flames flickered with a little less fuel, but far from quenched.
"Frog turds for brains."
He laid on the praise again, and she scoffed. Damn right her scars were cool. But those scars weren't just from fighting—they were from losing, too. From getting her ass kicked, dragged through the mud. The most recent tumble was with two coyotes, and she was lucky enough to survive. Only because half the clan had to come bail her out.
Sure, she was proud of her scars, but she wouldn't ignore where they came from. What she learned from them was etched into her as much as the marks themselves.
Snakepaw didn't know, He didn't know, but he would learn if he wanted to remain in ShadowClan.
"That don't mean nothin'. You wanna learn from me?" The warrior leans in, voice crackling against his ear.
"Here's another fucking lesson."
"What you see isn't always what you get. You keep thinkin' like that—you're gonna end up dead." Five moons ago she'd been nothin' more than a wailing furball but look now! She was a warrior. A real ShadowClan warrior—just like Froststorm said she'd be.
Fleafire didn't have much sympathy for outsiders, even if she was formerly one herself. They could either prove their worth like she and her siblings did, or die trying.
"Here's what's gonna happen."
"You will meet Stoat in a couple days like she wants—and you're gonna fight her with everything you got, got it?" She narrowed her eyes. Anything else would've been nothing short of an insult to her friend. Treating her like a flower would only piss her off and make light of all the work she'd put into her training.
"Bet your ass I'll be there and if I think even a second that you're holdin' back on her, it'll be me you're fighting next." The heat burned out of her tone then, simmering down to a slow crackle.
"Could've killed you last time, and that was without even half the training I got now. Think about that, yeah?" Impromptu lesson over. He needed to stew on that, and she'd rubbed his nose in it enough.
After a moment, she straightens up, finally giving him room to pick himself up. Fleafire sighs, giving him one last look. Lucky. Dumb as a stump, but lucky. How he made it out with all his limbs intact up til now was a mystery.
But all luck ran out eventually. Snakepaw would start doing better, or he'd end up like she did. Either hitting the ground so hard that she wasn't ever the same after, or
in the ground.
Just as she turns to look for her brother and Stoatpaw, another group of cats arrives. SkyClan. She'd only ran into them once when that coyote chased Sealpaw into their territory. Fleafire didn't know much about them. Well, for a night of 'peace', they looked real pissed off. Fleafire squints. There was something rusty matted into their fur. Was that
blood?
- - - - - - -
Still talking to
@Snakepaw. Brief mentions of Froststorm and Stoatpaw.
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But touch her and I'll hack you raw
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FLEAFIRE
11 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson
Fleafire values family and strength the most. She is clever, sharp-tongued, and quick to anger. She is guided by her desire to become stronger and protect those she cares about—at any cost. Fleafire respects strength but not necessarily authority. She will push boundaries and take advantage of the weak at any given opportunity.
Due to her experiences, Fleafire is corrupt and lacks morals. She does not believe in Starclan but now believes in the Dark Forest. While not a devout follower, her loyalty belongs to her mentor, Froststorm, who reached out when she was at her lowest and saw her into warriorhood.
Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, ending up on the streets, and being powerless have deeply affected her view of the world. Despite that, she has grown more resilient as a result of her hardships and bounces back quickly. Her training and mended relationships with some of her clanmates has solidified her devotion toward ShadowClan.