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They said she was too good to get tangled up with a tom like him. She had her life in order, and she was ready to become a great warrior that her Clan could be proud of—but life is a funny thing, and sometimes it has something better in mind.

Author's Note: As an effort to get some muse back after a hectic month filled with projects, exams, prom, and graduation, I thought I'd bring you guys a shorter story based on an RP I did around a year ago with my pal Nifty (NiftyShark) before starting back up with Tainted Line. This short story is based heavily around that, so along with the work I put in, any praise should also be shared with her. Along with that, I just want to point out that this story will not be plot-heavy, and will mostly focus around a few characters. Now that that's out of the way, onto the story. (:

Broken Waves

Rarely did Nimblepaw face struggles academically-especially something as seemingly simple as battle techniques.

Sure, no one could master everything, and she knew that, but she was at least average and could get by. Right now, however, she was definitely struggling.

The duck and twist was a supposedly simple move, and one she was hoping to teach herself, but it was something that she couldn't quite get right. She had to duck and twist around, roll onto her back, and then springs to her paws within quick succession to each other. The steps were memorized and she was ready to do them, but the normally agile apprentice was having trouble keeping her balance when she twisted around.

Huffing, she moved to try it again, almost positive that her Clanmates could hear her grunts of frustration from their own dens as she practiced in the clearing. It wasn't the best time to be practicing, considering the sun had since dipped below the horizon and the sky was painted black, but her eagerness to get this one thing right kept her from turning in with the majority of her Clan.

She was aware that there were a few cats that remained in the clearing, but she chose to ignore them for the most part. But her concentration could only take her so far.

She could have sworn she almost pulled off the technique when a sudden snap broke her focus, causing her to fall over and lose all of the focus she had been building up. The consistently failure already irritated her, so the sudden interruption only served to frustrate her further.

Turning her head, she noticed a dark brown tabby standing near a bush, and immediately concluded that he was the one that had caused the noise. "Hello, Trenchpaw," she greeted politely, albeit a bit irritably. She wasted no more time on idle conversation, and moved back to practicing her move. She was normally a fairly social cat, but as demonstrated by her attitude now, it was hard to break her determination when she was so concentrated on completing a task.

She barely acknowledged her fellow apprentice, although she assumed that he was still sitting at the edge of the clearing. The fact that she was being watched only made her more anxious to complete her task, and this anxiety clearly translated into paranoia—so much so that she nearly jumped when she felt a paw jab her in her haunch. It wasn't gentle, either.

"Your muscles are too taut here," he said presumptuously, circling around to her other side. Lifting a brow, her eyes followed him with a doubtful and exasperated expression—one he took no notice of, apparently, as he kept speaking.

"You're not getting low enough, for your size. Stay light on your paws when you twist around, and always have an anchor point," he instructed, and she could immediately detect the tone of voice he used—it was similar to that of an enemy warrior who taunted your every move. She didn't appreciate it one bit.

The ruddy tabby crouched, as if to demonstrate. He ducked suddenly, flashing his right paw above his head before pivoting on his left paw. With his body lower to the ground, he was propelled into a roll on, and while not entirely impressed, she did take note as he kept his front paws tucked under his body while kicking out with his hind paw. Almost immediately he sprang back up.

She might have wondered at first if he was going to offer to help her, but when he lifted his gaze and met hers arrogantly, she knew he wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. She gave him an annoyed glare. It wasn't like she was a little kit that didn't know what she was doing. She knew what to do, but was just having trouble putting it in motion.

"That's not how I was shown to do it," she responded defensively.

His blue eyes were critical as he circled her once more. "How you were shown?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Don't make me laugh. If you do it how it's taught move-for-move, you will never be a successful fighter. Enemies will be able to predict your every move and it could mean life or death."

"I didn't say I was taught move-for-move," she shot back at him. "I said that your way is not how I was taught.

Trenchpaw finally stopped in front of her, his eyes boring into hers as he slid into a fighting crouch.

"If you don't believe me, then attack me."

Nimblepaw growled, feeling her frustration rising. Who gave him the right to judge her so critically and then claim he knew better? "You're not the only apprentice that knows how to fight." Her amber eyes flashed against his cold blue ones. It took a strong claim to spike her anger, but it was even more rare that she would act on that anger.

Instead of giving in to his invitation to fight, she backed away. "I don't have to prove anything to you. You look like you're trying to make everyone believe that you're superior to them. You're not." This time, she actually turned her back on him, moving into the position to perform a different battle technique. She could go back and try the other later—preferably, when there wasn't a set of eyes judging her every move.

Unfortunately, she couldn't even do that. He continued to speak as though she could be bothered to listen. "I improved what I learned. I never said I was the only one who knew how to fight."

The she-cat glanced back, but only to respond to his words. "I will improve only when I am able to get down the basics. If I am unable to do the move in the simplest way, then it isn't worth improving upon," she pointed out, finally turning back to face him. Her initial anger was slowly fading, although it was plain to see that she was keeping her walls up in case she needed to defend herself or her respect. "I learn it first. I perform it. I will put my own skills to use later when I know how to do it in the first place."

They stared at one another, eyes unwavering. He cleared his throat roughly. "Sometimes it's a matter of modifying it so you do it better. If that is how you see it, than that's fine. But that doesn't mean you are right."

"I'm not trying to make a statement," she said, slightly hesitant. "I'm just trying to train and become a good warrior."

"Yeah, okay," Trenchpaw grunted, quickly moving to his paws as though he forgot to take care of something. "If you're going to do this, I'd suggest waiting until morning. There's a lot to do tomorrow." Apparently he thought those counted as decent parting words, as he said nothing else before stalking away towards the apprentices' den.

Instinct told her to say goodnight, as she was one for routine, but the words caught in her throat. Strangely, she didn't think the words would be appreciated. The black sky and the now silent camp led her to decide to turn in as well, although that wasn't her main motivator. As she abandoned her training post and joined him in the den, she couldn't bear to end the night on a hostile note, no matter how she felt previously.

"Goodnight," she murmured apathetically into the darkness, expecting nothing in return as she moved to curl up in her nest.

Her assumption was right, and the only thing that greeted her was silence.