[PRP] The Roamers (Mitra/Kame)

[Painted Moose]

"That fool," Mitra murmured under her breath. As it had been for the past few weeks she had fussed and worried over Yessenia. The headstrong lass had decided that she and her mate were better off on their own than in the safety of the family group. They had fought over it, one of the worst they'd had in a long time, with Mitra all but dragging her back to the den when it had ended. She had to face facts; the family was splitting off. Even Amjad had left to look for Kinaya and although she hoped she did find her she missed him every moment he was away.

Still, she carried herself with decorum as she completed her exercises. The light blue lioness had woken early before the sun to hunt, and when it dawned over the horizon she had taken to practicing her fighting style. It wasn't perfect, but it was something more than she had had before. Where once she was flawlessly furred Mitra now carried scars. Her eyes were harder, more intense, and there was muscle where there hadn't been before.

She was older now, and wiser. There was little left of the spoiled brat she had been as a cub. Now she was routine and order in a lawless land. Mitra stood panting, swiping a paw back across her bedraggled mane to free her eyes from it's cover before striking out at the bass of her latest opponent; a tree trunk.

hibi-tea

 

[hibi-tea]

Kame had awoken some time after his young mate did, eventually noting her absence as he rolled and felt a cold spot where there was once warmth. Since the fall of their home, the lands had been harsh on him and his now tiny family. One of his mates had gone missing, his son vowing to find her and return when he could. The daughters with mates left their separate ways preferring the decisions of their Pads than to the idea of unknown wandering that their father had at the moment. He was upset they were gone, but this was the time where hard decisions for their futures were to be made and he respected them for that.

The only of his children left with him and Mitra was Thamina, who could not be separated from the two if they tried. She valued his opinion most of all, and we he suggested she stay with them in the group till Amjad returned, she nodded her head and asked what to do. Ever obedient, ever present.

Pulling himself begrudgingly from their empty den, he searched for Mitra finding her beating the snot out of a tree trunk the best she could. Without the protection of a large pride, everyone needed to learn to fight and it was one hard lesson after another. He was glad Mitra took to it, at least. He knew some of his daughters were not the fighting types, and neither was Kinaya. Kame wouldn't have to worry about Mitra not being able to hold her own before long.

"It'll be splinters before long," He commented, plopping down some feet away to give her room.  

[Painted Moose]

hibi-tea

It was after a time that Mitra felt her claws becoming embedded in the gutted wood that she decided to rest. She was not the type to leave a job unfinished, nor was the the type to quit once a goal had been spotted. Although she had no desire to fight at first, the feeling of using her claws for more than hunting was secretly thrilling. It both disgusted and excited her to be working as hard as a Pad for something so...so primal.

Gathering herself, Mitra quickly smoothed down her mane and turned to her aging mate. When they were with the pride he would have been the one she went to first once a fight broke out, but now she was determined to stand strong beside him as a right paw. She may have lacked his expertise, finesse, and general skill, but she would learn with time.

"Would that it were already." She chuffed. Mitra sized the tree up once more in a passing glance, before looking back to Kame. "I'm not making adequate progress. I've tried remembering my brothers in their spats, going after larger prey, the tree...." Almost on impulse she moved back towards her inanimate target and gave it another low riding swipe. It help promise, but her execution was sloppy and without the power of a true fighter.  

[hibi-tea]

Painted Moose

"Combat is subjective, Mitra," Kame explained, pulling himself up from the ground to stand beside her. "You say you have not made adequate progress. I see leaps of progress from you daily."

Kame began stalking the stump and his blue coated mate before stopping at a point on the trunk and bracing himself. He pulled a paw back, extended his claws and with an impressive show of force for his age swiped at the trunk, ripping off a hunk of it's bark.

"Come here," He beckoned, shaking off some of the remains of the bark and pointing a toe down to the place he swiped. "Tell me the difference between where I hit and where you hit."

Pointing closely to the spot he swiped at, Kame had noticed a patch of drier, already cracked bark and beneath it was holes as if termites had begun feasting on it once some time back. Where Mitra was attacking at the stump in attempts to take it out with sheer force (something Kame could appreciate when done properly and successfully), he looked for a place that held a weakness.  

[Painted Moose]

hibi-tea

Seeing her progress validated, no matter how very little she thought she had made, brought a flutter to her heart. When it came to being complimented by her mate, Mitra could be brought back to a twitter pated adolescent in the turn of a phrase.

What truly stilled her heart was the power behind his attack. It was both inspiring, and depressing. Surely she would never be able to do something as impressive. Mitra had every desire to train to protect her family, but females weren't nearly as strong as males, so she knew her time would come far earlier than his, despite the age gap.

She went to his side and looked at the evidence with a critical eye. "It's older wood, almost like it's dead...You went for its weak spot?" Mitra raised a brow. "Is that not dishonorable?"  

[hibi-tea]

Painted Moose

"Honorable and dishonorable do not exist on a battlefield," Kame explained, his answers firm as he tried to express that this was not something to question, but believe in, "Those are actions outside of war, outside of combat, outside of survival."

Running his claws against the dried, dead looking wood her raked off some more splinters, and small stump nuggets before sitting back down in front of it. He looked to Mitra for a few moments to gather his thought and wrinkled his nose slightly before deciding to speak.

"Weaknesses exist for a reason," He began, "They are there to find if you are observant. Many can strike a foe hard, but striking hard is not striking smart. If you strike smart, you observe, you win without sacrificing much of yourself."

Mitra was not a warrior. She was not brought up to think as warriors thought, and he knew this. She was brought up to think smartly in terms of status and ambition within a ranked society. To make matches of things for the best possible outcome. He needed to get his witty mate to take that process and apply it to this.  

[Painted Moose]

hibi-tea

"So it is no different than negotiations." Mitra surmised. She had seen her father interact with others often enough that the tact he had wished for his sons to have had rubbed off onto her. With her mothers' coyness and graces passing on as well she had been able to navigate through most situations. "It's not a matter of overpowering an opponent, but rather using their own strengths against them."

Looking back to the remnants of the tree she realized just how off she had truly been. It wasn't that her efforts had been sub par, it was that they were completely in vain. She frowned, thinking on this turn of events. "It still seems wrong not to meet an opponent head on, but it is as you say. I will never be able to stand a chance against a seasoned warrior without thinking first."

Turning towards him, a mischievous glint took hold of her eyes. "So am I also correct in assuming that in order to take you down I should start with the joints that pop so loudly in the morning?" Of course she would never turn a malicious claw towards him. Perhaps a sensual one, and then even at that she would be careful. The worst pitfall of any inexperienced soul holding power was their inability to know it's strengths or limits. She wouldn't be that brash.

"Has Thamina awoken yet? I don't mean to deter this lesson, but I'm sure you must be getting hungry by now." Old habits were hard to break.
 

[hibi-tea]

Painted Moose

Kame looked to Mitra, prideful that she understood what he tried to articulate. Sometimes he only wished some of his sons were as smart as she were, but they were more of their mother's sons than his. Not that he faulted any of them for being more like Kinaya than himself, but it would have been nice to have a son as smart as Thamina or Mitra. Perhaps Mitra will give him at least one son as smart as her.

"Not just seasoned warriors," Kame interjected, "Anyone, Mitra. Many weren't brought up with codes of conduct. They will do what is necessary to win or survive, no matter how underhanded it seems. Never assume honor in an individual."

Kame's ears went flat against his head as Mitra teased him about his aging bones. He had been pondering on them a great deal lately as the days and nights were wearing on him particularly hard lately. Flicking his tail back and forth, he sniffed slightly in feigned offense, "If you cripple me, you will carry me. And I can be very heavy."

Unpinning his ears and getting up from his seat, Kame looked back towards the den Mitra, Thamina and him shared. He tail swayed slightly before he turned back to Mitra and shook out his mane a little before giving a small smile and a sigh, "If she isn't, she will be. Her stomach is what woke me, after all."  

[Painted Moose]

hibi-tea

"Ah." She nodded sagely. Mitra had not thought to fight against those that had no formal training, or those that did not follow a code. It was so odd to her that there would be those that only fought to fight, but she suspected they did exist.

If the Gods were merciful and she conceived her cubs would not be so lawless. They would follow the teachings of their parents, older sister, and whichever pride they chose to stay in. She would drill the lessons she was being taught now into their little brains in the hope that it would stick.

Moving closer to her mate, Mitra reached out a claw to coil it around a few locks of his opalescent mane. "I would carry you even if you were not crippled, love. Though, I would think that should a time ever arise that the situation was needed, you would make a fine accessory."

She followed after him briskly and shook her head with an amused smile. "Come on then. Let's go wake our Princess and see to feeding her beast of a stomach." Mitra chuckled.
 

[hibi-tea]

Kame couldn't help but smile at Mitra's rebuttal to him. An accessory. How fitting she would use such a phrase considering where they once called home. Where a male's worth was measured in his children and in his wives, much like they were accessories of his put on display. It truly did make him smile.

"I hope I am a befitting accessory then," He stated, stretching as they made their way back to their den to wake their remaining sleeping daughter and get her to stop lazying about. After all, this was not their home anymore and if you didn't wake, you didn't eat now.

[ END ]