Whiteheart narrowed his eyes, sizing up the defenders. Something he always had to do; observe the other side. His lameness forced him to think of all the tactics and whatever. Maybe it was a good thing. "I think... how about I corral all the kits that come my way to you? It'll be hard for me to hit 'em gently with my... disability." Any warriors, he explained, just chase them towards him. The kits... He had to leave Lostpaw to them, since he might either overbalance or hit them too hard, trying to work with his lame leg.
LostPaw
"starclan wanted me...yet you refused me!"
lostpaw nodded slowly. hopeing she could do it without messing it up, her eyes landed on the kits on their team and then she turned but to whiteheart "what about them? what will they do?" she mewed, a bit more loudly then she ever talked, she seemed and was relaxing now.
lostpaw nodded slowly. hopeing she could do it without messing it up, her eyes landed on the kits on their team and then she turned but to whiteheart "what about them? what will they do?" she mewed, a bit more loudly then she ever talked, she seemed and was relaxing now.
Whiteheart performed his characteristic what-there's-others-too freeze, his body stiffening as his lame leg sometimes did when it wasn't busy being floppy. Oh no oh no oh no he had forgotten about the others. Shoot. This was exactly why he did not preach to his apprentice about socialising. That would be hypocritic. The warrior shrugged lopsidedly, though the shoulder of the lamed leg was still operative. He didn't want to tax it, and besides, that was the norm for shrugging to him aaaand he was rambling again in his nervous mind. "Heh." was all the internally panicking black and white to could manage to say to Lostpaw, helplessness slowly creeping into his emerald hues.