~ WOLFFANG ~
Wolffang noticed the opposing cat turn around right as he lunged, but either he was lucky or the dark gray tabby was a featherbrain. Even though he managed to turn, he was a bit slow and seemed to not be able to fully comprehend what was happening. A flash of satisfaction pulsed through the dappled gray tom as his claws met fur and flesh. Wolffang tore at his shoulder, hoping to tear as much as he could, seeing the blood welling up. He now had to move from here. All of the battle tactics, renewed with his sense of rage, came up to him again.
His opponent seemed to spring away from him and Wolffang's large paws thudded to the ground. Both cats got into better battle stances, and he was entirely ready to go on the offensive, to pin this cat down and go for the throat. Dawnstar wasn't here, but Grimhound was. If he could kill someone... how satisfying would that be? How far away his previously dedicated-to-the-code self was, where he would have wounded badly but never actually killed. This was different, so much different. But he had a feeling that this opponent would put up quite a fight.
The dark tabby lunged at him first, and some hidden instinct made Wolffang notice that one claw was headed for his throat. Instantly, he ducked his head, but let the other cat sink his claws into his right shoulder. There was a flash of pain, but he shoved that to the back of his mind. While the tabby was focused on his shoulder, Wolffang spun around and used the cat's closeness against him. His mind flashed back to the move he had taught his Clanmates during the battle practice.
Wolffang was large, but many moons of practicing with smaller cats and learning the ways of WindClan gave him an extra advantage. Sure, his large, sturdy frame didn't make him as fast as the majority of his other Clanmates with smaller and lighter builds. However, he had still been trained in how to be fast, to navigate the open moorland and chase down rabbits. In combat, it was different, but these ShadowClan cats had lived their whole lives closed in. Right now, it was Wolffang's time.
Driven by rage, he navigated himself so he flung himself toward the tom's side. He made an attempt to quickly wrap one paw around the dark tabby's neck to give himself some leverage, which would temporarily make the claws in his right shoulder deeper, but if this succeeded they should tear free. His other front paw thrust toward the tom's back, and if he got the neck and back grips, he pushed off with his hind paws. If this move worked, he could either knock the tom over or just get on his back - probably the latter because they were both big and bulky.
@
Singing Jay