sandstorm warrior cats

She’d snuck into her parent’s bed a few times over the years, something she hadn’t grown out of since her childhood. But to her credit it always got her a good night’s sleep after a bad dream. After she hit puberty, she’d been told she had to go back to her own bed, but after giving her dad a sulking pout she was always allowed to stay until she calmed down.

Roc had the advantage of experience against this style, but his missing arm proved a debilitating handicap. In one regard, it made dodging easier, as he had less mass to move out of the way of Ingram’s attacks, and he couldn’t be slowed down with painful flesh wounds to the missing limb, but it also left his offense and defense on his right side almost nonexistent. Depending on who he was fighting and what type of combatant they were, the severity of such a handicap was variable, but against such a similar warrior, his disadvantage was increasingly evident with each passing second. Back and forth, over and over, they hurled attacks at each other and then pulled back, using their wings to move in and out of each other’s reach.

“Your loss to Bella does not undo everything you, Sophia, and Cyrilo have accomplished. The literature program you’ve established is a blessing for this world, and you and Sophia managed to take down a gold-ranked knight who was standing in the way of public education. That is no small feat. You’re too young to be focusing on your regrets, on what you couldn’t do. The story of the Bow Mistress is only just beginning. When the war against the Profane is over, they’ll sing songs and legends about you, about how you fought and saved this world. And your clash with Bella? That’ll be a good story for you to tell around the campfire.”