"Fair, but you need to kick your appendages in a more circular motion if you want to keep afloat." Pureheart nodded, his ghostly-white pelt flowing freely through the churning water.
Statickit grunted and clenched his teeth, claws digging further into the sodden terrain as his arched toes hooked easily around the withering foliage. The muscles in his legs screamed with protest as he kicked more powerfully, sending large beads of liquid spraying upwards. He was determined to prove himself to his perfectionist-of-a-mentor.
"Like this?" He broke off with a pant, sinking further into the thick river. Each kick grew more and more troublesome, and he was tiring quickly.
"A lot better, but you're straining yourself too much. How about a break?" The elusive tom scrabbled placidly onto the embankment, giving his pelt a thorough shake before padding over to the pale kit to assist him.
Statickit seemed deaf to the offer, for he was too focused on making a great impression to hear. He winced with every slow movement of his appendages, blotting out all his surroundings in order to push forward. Suddenly, he felt a pair of soft, motherly jaws clamp around his scruff. He was instantly lifted from the oddly frigid lake, his body going limp at the chance of such a needed intermission.
"No worries, my young tom. You have done fabulous, and I applaud you for showing such strength and brilliance." The enormous white tom was quick to drop the kit onto the lakeside.
The kit felt his blood run cold at the sight of the feline's serrated appearance once more. The backside of his body looked normal and elegant; a perfect picture of health. However, his face told a tragic chronicle. Both ears were torn down to barely- visible stumps, fresh burgundy essence pouring from the open wounds. His eyes were small, dark voids where pretty blue ones used to be. However, he could still see, oddly. His bottom jaw was missing, a colossal wound tearing from where his chin was, all the way to his chest. The fur was matted, and stained a sickly crimson pigmentation around the opening. Thick streams of blood spurted out whenever he tried to speak. It was obvious the tom wasn't currently alive, yet, if he wasn't dwelling in Starclan, where could he be?
"Bwother, 'stime to wake up!"
