“Well that certainly isn’t nice.” Flintheart said, mocking a slight pout, “I actually thought I was quite slim for my form.” The older warrior was showing off a part of him that not many really got to see up close - this confident, smug side of himself when he battled against an interesting opponent. He didn’t have a death wish or anything like that, the tomcat was just simply very trusting of his own abilities and experiences through the many moons that he had lived in this forest. Ebonypaw, his own apprentice, would be able to support him on the fact that he was actually quite skilled when it came to fighting techniques, thinking back to the few times that they have sparred together in the Thunderclan training area. Bringing himself away from this visit from his recent past, Flintheart felt satisfaction when Spireflare’s flesh could be felt underneath his claws, ripping down the other male’s face and leaving a nasty wound on his face in the process, which made the grey-furred warrior’s tail lash as he looked at his enemy now, watching as darkened scarlet drops of blood dripped and oozed from the slash and onto the sand and dirt that laid between them. “Aw, look, now we match!” Flintheart sneered, pointing to his own face, which half of it was covered with reddened blood from the cut that this Windclan male had given him before. Oh, the look of fury and pure hatred that sported in his foe’s eyes made his purr, knowing that his little jokes and smug attitude was really getting to them. The warrior knew that there could be a chance that he would die in this battle or the war that was now being waged between Thunder and Wind, so Flintheart would go out with a laugh and show everyone around that he would not go down like some scrawny coward. Out of the corner of his gaze, he caught sight of the male that he was saving - an orange and white furred male that he did not know the name of or had the pleasure of sharing a conversation with, but his scent showed that he was of Thunderclan, just like him. This made him smile, knowing that he was putting pain and risk towards rescuing one of his own. Flintheart shifted his gaze back to his opponent, who had the look of death in his gaze - the whole look with his face spattered with blood was quite fitting and also a sight that would scare a small kitten, but it only excited the older Burmilla in a twisted way. The Windclan male reared up on his back paws for a short moment before pouncing towards Flintheart with his claws outstretched in a deadly manner. This gave the warrior a chance, seeing that his opponent’s underside was on in view. If he could time it correctly, this just might work. With his lips peeling back into a snarl, the tomcat rushed forward, directly at Spireflare, but instead of going for his face or attempting to leap over him as the foe came towards him, the Burmilla ducked and slid forward through the grass, aiming to slide underneath his opponent with enough momentum to have him appear behind them instead in the process and not get squished. He raised a paw as he did this, claws gleaming in the moonlight as he could attempt to slash his claws across his opponent’s underside, if he was quick enough, of course. There was a chance that he would get sharpened claws in his back with this move for a moment, but it would be worth it - without a doubt.