Moss

The black cat's cheek burned, crimson spilling from it as her chest heaved with the effort of physical activity and assault. Her green eyes were slits, narrowed at the bigger cat before her. They looked disappointed, and she hated it. They were never happy with her; she hardly knew what they looked like smiling. "Too slow. How is your pelt black yet yourself so useless at combat in the dark? What would our ancestors say?"
         Their tone infuriated her - how was it her fault that they were faster and bigger than she was with far more training - an angry hiss escaping from her maw. But at this, they simply looked disgusted and disappointed. Another flash of pain burned into her cheek, right on top of her already opened wound, and she recoiled at once. "Hold yourself better. You don't need to hiss; you look like a feral cat. You're far better than that, and whoever you're fighting should know that from just a look. Now get to your paws and try again."
She knew they were right - they always were. She was here for a reason, and they taught her like no mentor ever could. At 8 moons, she could already take Strikepaw with ease despite their different apprenticeships which should have left Strikepaw with a considerable advantage in any type of fight. Getting back to her position in the bushes, she already knew they were ready for her attack. They never fought fair with her; any strike was fair game, any move that worked was fair, but it was one of the first things they had ever taught her. All is fair in a fight.
         Throwing herself forward at once, their reaction was instant to her. Catching the glimpse of claws shining in the moonlight they trained under, she knew that they had missed before they had even swung. She at once knew they were playing false when she dodged their claws easily, but she was hardly ready for her side to explode into hissing pain, dropping her easily as the fight turned from against them to for her breath. At once, they began berating her again. "Too. Slow! That was easy to see, and even easier to counter. How are you ever going to learn when you get defeated so easily? Look at you, a disgrace to the name I gave you. Named after Fallingcavern, a great leader, and yet you're on your side, grovelling like this is the worst thing that's ever happened to you. You've been through worse, so act like the powerful cat you should be and get up onto your paws. We're not done, are we? No, we're not."
         "Moss..." She managed to choke out, her father's name. He always treated her like this. It was for her own good that she was powerful, she had to have standards with a legacy like hers or so he said. Yet the black figure's eyes only narrowed with disgust. Her side flared in pain again as it raked its claws into her pelt, deep enough to cause pain yet not deep enough to make it obvious under her long fur. Its voice was hissing as it responded to her plea for help. "Keep my name out of your mouth when you're pathetic like this. You disgrace it. I've earned my name; I've earned my skill. I've told you not to use it in vain, and I've told you not to cry for help. What kind of cat does that? A coward, a fool. A weak cat. You shouldn't be any of those. You won't be weak; you can't be weak. You have a legacy worth killing for, and when I'm gone it'll be up to you to continue it. Keep your sights high, not any cat will do for you. Kittypet blood is too weak, rogues are just an embarrassment, loners aren't any better. Kittypets don't deserve a thought of your mind, its far too important for such vermin. Are you listening to me?"
         Another flash of pain, she gritted her teeth. Reacting would just disappoint him. It hurt her more than it hurt him. She was powerful, she had to act the part. The silence rang between the two cats, before finally she was awarded with a grunt of satisfaction from the bigger cat. "You're a failure to your kin like this. You disappointed me enough wanting to become a Healer, and you disappoint them more. Do you think I'm doing this for my own satisfaction? I'm doing this for them, so they can be proud of you when they see you in the sunlight. Don't blame me."
         He then finally turned around abruptly, disappearing into the undergrowth and leaving her alone to her thoughts and her wounds. Her side was still throbbing with pain, the claw wounds leaking subtle crimson hues into her black pelt and the grass beneath her. Yet it felt insignificant compared to his words - he was right about all of it, she was pathetic here on her side. What kind of cat would allow themselves to have this happen? A fool. A coward. A kittypet. He was right to hate them - she had never seen one even worth a thought in her mind. They were fat and lousy, without the ability to lift a claw or pull their own weight. Even the kittypets inside her own clan were a disgrace, she knew the clan was in recession for allowing them in. Only her kin could lead them to greatness, or so Moss said- A flash of yellow eyes broke her from her thoughts as she immediately recognised the pelt of Strikepaw. The dark tan cat's eyes widened at once, concern flashing as she saw the condition the black cat was in.
         "Falling Holly! What...- What happened to you?! Who did this?" She was embarrassed to have been caught like this as the other apprentice began to fret, gazing at her pelt as if she had just been struck down by a monster. Getting to her paws, much to the disagreements of the wounds under her pelt, she gave the cat a glare. She was annoyed for being caught so weak, and it seemed her annoyance resided within her gaze as the other apprentice flinched backwards. "I fell, I'll be fine. Let's get back to camp before anybody notices."
         She pushed onwards, feeling the burning gaze of the other apprentice on her pelt; she already knew Strikepaw hardly believed her words. But she could never say a word about her training with Moss to anyone. It was far too important, for her and her ancestors. He would be proud of her for how she was dealing with her injuries, and that was all she needed to know. She just wanted his appreciation.