Aberash-Mono

The morning air was crisp enough to sting her nose. Each breath carried the sharpness of dew, dampening the scents of pine and churned earth. Somewhere high above, a lone thrush sang a thin, reedy note, quickly answered by another further off. Sunlight spilled in narrow beams through the canopy, glancing off drifting motes that swirled lazily in the still air. The training hollow lay ahead, a shallow bowl carved into the forest floor, ringed with gnarled roots and leaning saplings. The ground inside was bare, worn soft and springy from moons of paws landing, twisting, shoving. Deep gouges marred the earth here and there, a silent record of battles past. Melonpaw padded to the edge and stopped. The earth beneath her pads was cool, faintly damp from last night’s drizzle. A prickle of anticipation ran along her spine. Today could be the day. Erminesight hadn’t said it outright, but she could feel it…this was no ordinary spar. He would be watching her every movement, every choice