Post by Seraphinu on Nov 12, 2008 21:36:57 GMT -5
Coal padded back into camp, his tail fluffed out and lashing in irritation. His warriors, nearly all wounded, followed him. It seemed WindClan had still had some bite left in them... though he was sure that had been their last ounce of strength to put out. Not many Clans could recover from a merciless slaughter of their leader. Though he smiled at his accomplishment, the cons of the battle weighed against it.
"Bear..." he muttered. How could that fool get himself killed? He had often relied on Bear's sheer strength in battles... now that his trump card was gone, he would actually have to rely on his other, less competant warriors. All of them who fought amongst themselves, they were nothing more than petty toms looking for a scuffle. None of them knew the pride of being a warrior, using strength and speed. tooth and claw, to win his battles. They knew nothing of fighitng untill the last. Coal knew it was time for a change. LostClan must be organized into a true fighting force. And it started with himself, Jag, and the tom who limped behind him.
"Midnight," Coal scowled at his former apprentice. "You should never underestimate an opponent, even one wounded. You must always be aware of those around you. Clan raids are never one on one. You should know this," he scolded. The last thing he wanted was for the only promising young tom in LostClan left was to be killed. Midnight glared, but nodded, though many curses streamed from under his hot breath, breath that was hot with the blood on his fangs. He licked his lips and spat. Forgotten memories whirled in a haze within his mind, and only a single face he saw. A beutiful she-cat with mysterious, glittering blue eyes, and delicate fur white as snow.
"Bear..." he muttered. How could that fool get himself killed? He had often relied on Bear's sheer strength in battles... now that his trump card was gone, he would actually have to rely on his other, less competant warriors. All of them who fought amongst themselves, they were nothing more than petty toms looking for a scuffle. None of them knew the pride of being a warrior, using strength and speed. tooth and claw, to win his battles. They knew nothing of fighitng untill the last. Coal knew it was time for a change. LostClan must be organized into a true fighting force. And it started with himself, Jag, and the tom who limped behind him.
"Midnight," Coal scowled at his former apprentice. "You should never underestimate an opponent, even one wounded. You must always be aware of those around you. Clan raids are never one on one. You should know this," he scolded. The last thing he wanted was for the only promising young tom in LostClan left was to be killed. Midnight glared, but nodded, though many curses streamed from under his hot breath, breath that was hot with the blood on his fangs. He licked his lips and spat. Forgotten memories whirled in a haze within his mind, and only a single face he saw. A beutiful she-cat with mysterious, glittering blue eyes, and delicate fur white as snow.
