An Otter Beats A Stone

Another day, another mode of torture. Why, oh why, were all the cats of LynxClan so obsessed with him? Couldn't they just leave him alone to enjoy his life!? What a travesty being so popular was... That was at least what was going through Mottlestone's head as he was dragged — quite literally, dragged — to wherever the hell Otterspark was taking them to next. This bloody cat had the combined energy of a million.

“Otterspark! You're hurting my taaaaiiiil.” He whined, not even fully certain if she could even hear him. Most of the time, Mottlestone was pretty sure that she just pretended that he hadn't spoken. He wished that he had such powers — especially for Loudpaw. Wait! No, he hadn't said that out loud, phew... although, could Otterspark read minds?! He wouldn't be surprised if she had such mysterious powers.

How had they even got to this point, anyway? Mottlestone remembered a time when all Otterspark would do was shout at him — but, lately, she had been a little less angry. Sure, she wasn't shouting any less but at least she wasn't mad. Now she just demanded things of him that were extremely backhanded. Like: let's hang out! ...but only because you're a wuss and you need to get some fighting spirit. What did he do in a past life for StarClan to punish him like this?

Growling as she tugged on the larger tom's tail, Otterspark visibly rolls her eyes and groans as he begins to whine about how she's hurting him. With a muffled voice, she barks back through his fur, knowing damn well that if she doesn't successfully drag him from camp that he's probably going to run off. “It'th noth my faulth thath you thwont do things with me!” Can't he see she wouldn't HAVE to do this if he'd just agree to go out of camp with her? Rolling her eyes at the thought, the she-cat continues to drag the tom across the snowy ground before giving a glance over her shoulder— YESSS, they're out of camp!

Letting go of her clanmate's tail, Otterspark spits and sticks out her tongue with a scowl, as if she's gotten a bad taste in her mouth. “For someone so prideful, y'really need to learn what a proper grooming is.” Shaking her head, the molly offers a wild smile as she stomps a paw onto the ground, letting specks of snow fly from the impact. “Now c'mon, we got shit to do!”

He perked his ears at her complaining, rolling his eyes right back at her (which was funny, because he couldn't see that she had just done the same thing). For a brief moment, he actually knew what inner peace felt like because his fluffy tail was doing a darn good job at muffling whatever nonsense she had to spout at him. Mottlestone could definitely get used to this... Although his dreams were probably a bit too ambitious because he could actually understand every single word.

As his tail was dropped unceremoniously on the horrible, horrible snow, he clambered up onto his paws, a huff escaping him as if he couldn't believe a word she was saying! Which was true, what the hell was she saying?! “Maybe I would want to do things with you if you actually stopped bullying me for once.” Mottlestone spat back, sulkily. He had been the victim of many of her complaints about these past moons — just one more curse that Loudpaw had given him when she was assigned his apprentice.

Her next comment was completely out of line. A loud gasp filled the air as he blinked back at her, offended. “I'll have you know, I groom every day! Maybe it's your stinking breath that you're tasting!” The tom growled at her. What despicable manners she had! Proper grooming.... Who is she to talk? She probably bathes in mud. He thought to himself, obviously stinging after her insult. Then he groaned inwardly. Shit to do? What was she, his mother? “Why the hell are we out here, anyway?”

Still preoccupied with trying to get the nasty taste off her tongue, Otterspark raises her eyebrows at Mottlestone's complaint of her bullying him. “I’m— hold on I'm what?” The young warrior hisses back, voice offended and accusatory as she glares at him, the fur on the back of her neck and back rising. “I'll have you know that I am no bully! You're just a wimp!” She practically snarls, shaking her head as she places a paw on her chest. “Frankly 'm offended you'd say such a thing, 'm just helping you improve.”

Which did lead to the great question of what the pair were doing out here in the cold, anyways. The warrior's face perks up once more, and she gives a delightful purr as she responds. “I want you to learn to grow a pair, so 'm taking it upon myself to train you on how to actually do your duties as a warrior. Generous, I know.”

Mottlestone couldn't believe his ears! She didn't bully him? That was just an outright lie! “I'm not a wimp! I'm... I'm super brave!” Now that wasn't a lie — not at all. He could take anyone on in a heartbeat; sometimes he just didn't feel like it, that was all! If Otterspark wasn't there to kick him in the ass, he would've started to throw a tantrum right that instant, but he was scared of the consequences, so decided not to.

Helping me improve? Mottlestone was perfect, he didn't need any improvement! This dumb cat was obviously seeing things because the tom had no idea what part of him needed improving... And he didn't like that look on her face — why did she look so happy? Obviously, she was thinking about his pain, which gave her some sort of twisted joy. “Train?! I'm a warrior, for StarClan's sake — I've already finished my training! Plus, I don't need to be trained by the likes of you, I'll probably just get worse.” He lifted his head up, looking away from her as if the very thought disgusted him.

Otterspark snorts and then places her paw up to her muzzle to muffle her... Somewhat mean-spirited laughter. “And 'm secretly a swimming rat!” She flashes him a toothy grin, clearly happy with her comparison to her namesake, the river otter, which she definitely didn't look like and didn't hold any similarities to.

“Beetledad always says that a Warrior can improve, I don't care if you're a warrior or perfect, you're clearly soft and my training is much fresher— and 'course, m'mentor actually taught me somethin!” The young she-cat mews back, a rather cocky smirk on her muzzle as she sings the praises of Bumblefoot, who, while he admittedly had his own flaws, did his best to help her improve. “Y'might get worse with me, but you'll definitely get worse without me. C'monnn, don't you wanna perfect your skills? See if you can kick my ass?” Otterspark questions in a sing-song voice, her tone playful despite her sharp tongue as she tilts her head at the disgusted warrior. Whether or not they actually trained, this ended up being a whole lot more fun than sitting in camp with idle paws.

The tom didn’t like seeing Otterspark so happy. Something about it... unnerved him. He was sure that she was plotting something, deep in her minuscule brain somewhere and he didn’t like the smell of it. Blinking at her wide grin, he attempted to start looking around the area for an escape route. Maybe he could climb a tree somewhere... there was no way he was going anywhere near water.

Much more fresh? Is she calling me old?! He sent a dirty look her way, just to let her know that he’d figured out her sly insult. “Hey! Specklebelly taught me plenty o’ things... like, uh, how to live the good life!” Mottlestone knew how to hunt and that was good enough — he could keep the Clan, and more importantly, himself, fed. What did it matter that Specklebelly never truly taught him how to fight? He didn’t need it, he had his brain power!

What was this mumbo jumbo about getting worse?! That was literally impossible! As he heard her challenge travel across to him, he flexed his claws into the frozen earth, grinning back. “I’d love to see you flat on your face!” Mottlestone flicked his fluffy tail about him widely, excitement prickling into his paws at the thought of finally, finally getting a chance at giving her a few scratches. Although, now that he was inspecting her more closely... she seemed bigger than normal? There were strong muscles rippling in those legs and maybe he could just — oh they were running towards him! It was time to skedaddle!

The warrior chooses not to make a comment on Mottlestone's poor defense of his former mentor— mostly because she knew what it was like to have a good relationship with your mentor, and really, she would be brawling the tom for real if he had said anything about Bumblefoot that she thought was out of line. So instead, she huffs and mews back to him confidently. “I think most cats already know how to do that, Mottlestone.” Shaking her head at him, the tabby molly continues to bound toward the grey-pelted warrior with a laugh at his comment. Wow, if that's his attempt to intimidate her, it's sad. “Quit yappin' and fight me then!”

With that, her running breaks into a mad sprint as she puts pressure into her hind legs, readying to pounce on her new (albeit very involuntary), sparring partner. Outstretching her paws with sheathed claws, the she-cat gives a cackle as she calls to Mottlestone. “Show me what ya got!”

The view of a big, muscular cat running your way definitely wasn't something that Mottlestone enjoyed. If it had been a predator, he most likely wouldn't have even given it the time of day to chase after him — he would've run in a few seconds flat. For some reason, though, Otterspark's words had hit close to home and he'd suddenly had a confidence boost... he felt like he could take her on, no matter how much more efficient she might be.

Rather than wait for her to run into him and attempt to soften the blow, Mottlestone instead let out a battle cry, rushing forward to meet Otterspark in the middle of the clearing. Every hair seemed to stand on end through the amount of adrenaline pumping through his body, and the impact hurt a lot more than he initially expected. Slamming shoulder to shoulder, Mottlestone managed to get one paw underneath Otterspark awkwardly, throwing her slightly off balance. “Haha!” It wasn't as if he'd completely knocked her over, though... but he'd take it!