Facing Down Stripes

I caught sight of dark stripes lurking in the shadow of the heavy armchair—broad shoulders and dead stillness, looking every bit like Tigerstar trying to intimidate a patrol. You think I would back down from a brute twice my bulk? Not a chance. I flattened my ears, bunched my muscles, and lunged straight at its flank. I collided hard into the giant striped slipper, wrestling the stiff plush beast until it toppled flat on its side across the floorboards. I planted both forepaws squarely over its snout, pinning it firmly to the timber until it surrendered any notion of moving. ThunderClan borders remain unbroken.