Bearclaw Valley they elevate

@Astara worst starter ever but lessgoo

 

toad had seen many a time that merrick's girl could hold her own in a fight, and always it furthered his respect for her- and a touch of fear, too. but he longed to be as powerful as either of them, which only came with practice, and so he seeked her out, eventually finding her dark figure in one place or another. he had never heard her speak (did she even know how?) and so instead he greeted her with a low chuff, dropping into a playbow that was far from playful, an invitation to a spar.

u are amazing friend

toad; her kill-brother.

astara's gaze swept the male gladly, recognizing his intent by posture alone.

she turned carefully, positioning herself straight before him. she lowered her chest in the barest of bows in return, energy coiled and waiting -- studying --

the seconds blurred past; astara shot towards the stonemaw at a quick burst, aiming a nip for his shoulder or chest as she drove by.

she was like a cobra, still as a statue until she lashed out suddenly. of course he expected it, and yet her speed still stunned him; he wondered how she had learned to be such a clean warrior in her perfected movements. he tried to shift a moment too late and her fangs clipped his shoulder, causing a sort of stinging, and she was past him and he, whirling back to face her. he moved in a semi-circle around her, and dove to try and grab at her hock with his jaws if he could.

how had she learned?

all the countless ambushes, the attacks -- the upbringing in blackfeather..

astara was but a representation of her upbringing: cold, murdering monster.

she felt a sting of teeth on her hocks -- toad's imparting gift to her driveby.

the blackbird smiled and rallied, turning back to toad with a glitter in her eyes.

better not do the same trick twice: he'd expect a driveby this time. astara's head lowered and she approached, this time aiming to collide with him directly.

sorry got distracted LOL

 

his aim hit, and he felt his fangs in her leg momentarily, though he was always careful not to press too hard with his packmates. not the way he had dug himself into earp. and then she was away from him again, and he was turning to face her but the blackbird but was coming at him with her head lowered. were she a petite thing she might not have had much effect on him, but they were both about average, and so her headbutt caused him to lose his footing and stumble. there was a moment in that slight stumble that she might be able to attack, but he'd be regathering himself and shooting for her shoulders with his fangs in mere seconds.

this spar was but a careful dance, an art-form of take and be taken. astara's teeth were half-sheathed, firm enough to sting, but never enough to draw blood.

one did not learn from a mistake, unless it cost them something dearly.

toad stood his ground as astara angled a shoulder for his own in a quiet whumph; his teeth snaked their way towards her pelt after a brief stumble, giving astara enough time to place a hairsbreadth's distance betwene them. his fangs raked down her shoulder as she drew away.

enough with the simple ploys and little flirtatious advances -- now that each had felt each other out, astara went for a different tactic.

she dove for a front leg, appearing to have every intention of seizing it. yet if -- or when -- toad tried to counter with his teeth, he would find astara's move was a feint, and teeth would close coldly around throat.

he felt his jaws make slim contact, and then she was gone from him again. she moved forward snakelike for his leg; rather than try to meet her fangs with his, however, he side-stepped, moving his leg out of the way, pleased regardless of the attack's change to see he had avoided something successfully now. the empty click of her fangs, and toad admired still the thought that had gone into such a fake-out, for he rarely considered such deceit in battle, and was far more inclined towards attacking quickly and without planning. and so he went again, this time for her side between the dip of her ribs and knee of her haunches (??), careful with his force so if he managed to make contact he would not break such soft flesh.

knee of haunches -- haha i like that -- in the horse world, that's called a stifle

astara's feint fell to empty air, for toad had nimbly moved away from range and now stood to regather his efforts.

she stilled, waiting for his rebuke. it came in a flourish, the young wolf's svelte frame but a flash as he dove for her stifle.

astara elected then to take a page from his book and tried to sidestep. she had been too slow to avoid any connection entirely, so instead swung her hips away while swinging her front end towards him -- resulting in a somewhat ungainly attempt to drive him away with her weight. his teeth clashed their mark, inspiring a quick growl before astara attempted a shove against him.

they sparred for a half hour's span before astara tired. inviting toad to walk alongside her, astara made for the riverbed to sup her thirst and muse over what she had learned from their practice.