Sunmoon's voice rang clear and proud from the Highrock.
"Let all lions old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a pride meeting!"
Ambercub's heart pounded in her chest. This was it.
Whitetail gave her a gentle lick between the ears. "Go on," she whispered. "Stand tall."
Ambercub padded forward with shaking paws. The eyes of the entire Pride burned into her pelt, but she held her head high. The morning sun shimmered against the cliffs, painting her golden-brown fur with light.
Sunmoon's eyes softened as they landed on her.
"Ambercub, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed."
Whispers rustled through the crowd. Some lions looked curious. Others, like Whiteclaw, narrowed their eyes. But Amberkit didn't flinch.
"From this day on," Sunstar continued, "until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Amberpaw."
A murmur rose—her first real name.
"Stormfoot," Sunmoon called, turning her sharp gaze toward the sleek gray lioness near the edge of the crowd. "You are thoughtful, calm, and loyal beyond question. You listen before you speak, and you lead not with force, but with care. I trust you to pass those values on to your new apprentice."
Stormfoot stepped forward, her blue eyes shining like ice under sunlight. The scar on her hind leg barely slowed her graceful stride.
"I accept," she said with quiet confidence.
The two touched noses. Amberpaw flinched slightly at the contact—then smiled. Her heart was racing, but for the first time, it wasn't fear. It was hope.
Stormfoot gave a small nod. "We start at dawn tomorrow."
The crowd erupted into chants:
"Amberpaw! Amberpaw!"
Even Bluepaw and Droppaw joined in.
And in the back, Amberpaw spotted Lilyfur, Nighttail, and Whitetail all watching her with pride.
For the first time since arriving, she felt like she might really belong.
Droppaw looked up as I padded into the apprentice den. His green eyes watched me closely, but there was something softer than usual in them.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
"It's... different. In a good way," I replied, my voice quiet but steady.
Before he could answer, a hiss cut through the air.
"She still smells like a loner. Keep her far away from my nest," sneered Pebblepaw, her cool, pale amber eyes narrowed as she looked me over like I was a tick.
I flinched, but then—
"Leave her alone." The voice was calm but firm, carried by a striking lioness I hadn't seen before. Her long, thick brown coat rippled with bold, dark tabby stripes, and her glacier-blue eyes stared straight through Pebblepaw. Her fur grew longer around her chest and tail, making her look slightly rugged—but she wore it like a badge of honor.
Pebblepaw huffed and turned around, laying her tail over her nose, her message loud and clear.
The striped lioness turned her gaze to me. "Hi. I'm Peakpaw." Her tail flicked high in greeting, the sharpness in her tone melting into something warm and solid.
Before I could answer, a lazy voice drifted in from the shadows.
"Peakpaw, don't overwhelm her with your joy." Bluepaw yawned from the far end of the den, his silver pelt barely visible in the dim light.
Peakpaw rolled her eyes. "Says the one who talks in his sleep."
Droppaw snorted, trying to hide his amusement.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Maybe not everyone would accept me here... but some of them might.
I walked slowly through the apprentice den, my paws barely making a sound against the worn ground. The den smelled of moss, fur, and faint traces of old prey. I paused beside one of the nests, lowering my head to sniff it.
The scent was dull and old—no one had slept here in a while.
I glanced back at Droppaw. "It's empty."
He nodded. "Take it. You'll be laying between Bluepaw and Darkpaw."
Before I could settle down, Peakpaw's voice rang out, teasing and bright. "Yeah, better than laying beside the snoring elephant over there." She flicked her tail toward Droppaw.
"Hey!" Droppaw hissed in mock outrage, eyes gleaming with mischief. In a flash, he pounced at Peakpaw.
They rolled across the den, playful growls and laughter echoing softly as they tumbled near the edge of the nests.
I couldn't help it—I purred. Not just because of the joke, or the warmth in the den, or even the soft nest beneath my paws. But because... for the first time, it didn't feel like I was just visiting Sunpride.
It felt like I might really belong.
Quiverpaw padded into the den, his steps still uneven, his hind leg dragging slightly from the wound he'd gotten in the fight with the rogue. His fur was dusted with dried grass and sweat, and his eyes looked distant, heavy with something unspoken.
Darkpaw lifted his head, his tail flicking once in greeting.
"How was training with Lionfur?"
Quiverpaw gave a slow nod as he limped to his nest beside Darkpaw.
"Yeah… it was okay," he murmured, curling up tightly.
The den fell quiet for a heartbeat.
Droppaw stopped his playful scuffle with Peakpaw and padded over, concern softening his usual teasing gaze. He leaned down and gently licked Quiverpaw's ear.
"Still can't stop thinking about Redtail's death?"
The name hung in the air like smoke, heavy and clinging. A shiver passed through Quiverpaw's body, his ears flicking back as his eyes closed tight.
Nobody said anything right away.
Even Peakpaw, still crouched from their mock fight, went still.
The first light of dawn spilled across the camp as I padded out of the apprentice den, blinking sleep from my eyes. Stormfoot stood by the entrance, her soft light grey fur shimmering with a silvery sheen under the rising sun. Her pale blue eyes were calm and clear as always.
"Amberpaw," she said softly, with a dip of her head. "Time to learn the territory."
I nodded quickly and hurried to her side, my paws tingling. My first real training session as an apprentice.
We left camp in silence, the wind cool on my fur as we crossed the moorland. Stormfoot moved smoothly, each step quiet and deliberate. I tried to mimic her lightness, but my steps still thudded awkwardly in the grass.
"Pay attention to what your paws feel," she murmured, barely glancing back. "The ground always tells you where you are, if you learn to listen."
We passed through open plains, sharp-stemmed grass brushing my legs, and then dipped into a shallow hollow where the air felt heavier. The scent of rabbit still clung to the earth, and I perked up at the sign of prey.
Stormfoot's tail flicked.
"You'll hunt later. Today, we learn borders."
I nodded, nose twitching.
After some time, the wind shifted—and with it came new scents. My nose wrinkled.
Three distinct smells hit me like a breeze of foreign winds: one sharp and mossy, another fresh and cool like rain, and the third dry and stony, with a faint tang like sun-baked rock.
Stormfoot paused beside a wide riverbank, its waters glinting under the morning sun.
"That's the border with Waterpride," she said, motioning across the river with her tail.
"They're strong swimmers and skilled at navigating the currents. Never cross unless told. The water is deep in places—and colder than it looks."
I nodded slowly, eyes wide as I stared at the churning water. The scent of fish and damp reeds lingered in the air.
We turned and padded uphill. Soon, the wind grew stronger, tugging at my whiskers. Stormfoot stopped on top of a small hill, where the grass flattened and danced in the breeze.
"This is Windpride's edge," she said.
"They're swift and silent, like the breeze. Keep your eyes open and your ears sharper. They can be hard to spot until they're right on you."
I crouched instinctively, as if expecting one to leap over the rise.
Stormfoot gave a soft hum of amusement before turning again.
We traveled for a while more, until the soft earth turned to jagged stone. My pads stung slightly as we stepped into rocky terrain. The air here was dry, and the scent of the third pride grew stronger.
"Rockpride's border," Stormfoot murmured, her gaze narrowing across the boulders and steep ridges.
"They're powerful—strong climbers, strong fighters. Their claws are as sharp as their pride."
I swallowed, suddenly feeling very small.
Stormfoot looked at me, her voice gentle but firm.
"Borders are sacred, Amberpaw. Defend them, respect them. And always trust your instincts."
I nodded again, heart thudding.
As we turned to head back, I cast one last look behind me—at the river, the hill, the rocks.
Three borders. Three dangers. Three mysteries.
And one pride that I was ready to fight for.
We walked for a long while. She pointed out landmarks—Foxrock, the Thorn Hollow, Oldclaw's Tree—each place tied to some scrap of Sunpride history I didn't know yet. I soaked it in, heart full, paws aching.
We returned to camp just as the sun had fully risen. My paws ached, dust clung to my fur, and my head buzzed with all the new scents and names Stormfoot had shared. I followed her in silence, ears flicking back and forth as I tried to remember each detail.
The camp was beginning to stir—lions sharing prey, apprentices yawning from their nests, and warriors gathering for patrols. Stormfoot dipped her head to me and padded off to speak with Rainstorm.
I stood for a moment near the apprentice's den, tail low and thoughtful. The river, the hill, the stones... they were all so different, so vast. So real.
"You look like you just ran around the whole territory," came a low, teasing voice.
I turned to see Quiverpaw, already curled in his nest, his limp more noticeable now that he was resting. His bright eyes studied me, half-amused.
"I basically did," I muttered, padding in. "Stormfoot showed me all the borders. The other prides… they smell weird."
Quiverpaw snorted. "You get used to it. You'll start recognizing who's who by scent after a few moons."
I flopped down beside my new nest, letting out a sigh.
"Waterpride lives past the river. Windpride is across the hill. Rockpride's by the cliffs. Do they ever come here?"
"Sometimes," he said. His voice lost its humor. "Most of the time, they stay where they belong. But sometimes…" He didn't finish.
"Sometimes?" I pressed.
Before he could answer, Bluepaw strolled in, his silver pelt shining as if he hadn't even been out training.
"Don't scare the new apprentice with your gloom, Quiverpaw," he said, padding to his nest and stretching. "We'll tell her about the border fights later. Maybe after she's caught her first prey."
I huffed. "I could've caught something today if Stormfoot let me."
Bluepaw grinned. "You'll get your chance soon enough. Until then…" he flicked his tail toward the fresh-kill pile. "Let's eat before Droppaw steals the best piece."
As the three of us padded toward the prey pile, I felt a little steadier. The borders were big. The world was bigger.
But I wasn't alone.
As I bent down to take a little mouse from the fresh-kill pile, a familiar scent hit my nose—sharp and cold like stone after rain. The fur along my spine rose before I even turned around.
Whiteclaw.
I didn't need to look to know he was behind me. The weight of his gaze settled on my shoulders like a thorn-sharp pelt.
"Amberpaw," he said, his tone clipped and smooth as always.
I turned slowly, mouse still in my jaws. "Whiteclaw," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady—polite. I dipped my head just enough to be respectful.
His pale eyes flicked over me like I was something under inspection. "Stormfoot took you out?"
I nodded, setting the mouse down. "We visited the borders. I learned the scent lines of Waterpride, Windpride, and Rockpride."
He said nothing for a moment, then simply replied, "Don't fall behind. You weren't born in the Pride, so you'll have to work twice as hard to be trusted."
His words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. I felt them settle in my chest like stones.
"I will," I said quietly. I didn't look away.
A long silence stretched between us before he stepped closer. His breath was warm against my ear when he whispered:
"Be careful, loner. One day, the camp won't be enough to keep you safe."
Then he took a bird from the pile, gave a curt nod, and turned away, his tail flicking once behind him.
Only when he disappeared into the warriors' den did I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"He still doesn't like you," Quiverpaw said beside me, appearing so suddenly I flinched.
"I noticed," I muttered, biting into the mouse.
"You'll prove him wrong," Bluepaw added as he sat down beside us, voice low but certain. "One day."
I didn't answer. I just kept chewing.
One day wasn't now—but it would come.
The sun had just begun to rise, casting pale gold light over the training hollow. Dew clung to the short grasses, sparkling like tiny stars beneath our paws. Stormfoot stood silently at my side, her pale blue eyes watching Lionfur and Quiverpaw already beginning their warmups.
Lionfur's voice boomed across the clearing, "Again, Quiverpaw! Keep your back low and tail steady. You're not trying to swat flies!"
Quiverpaw panted as he spun to strike a moss bundle, his injured leg dragging slightly but his focus sharp. I could see the determination in his shoulders, the set of his jaw.
"He works hard," I murmured.
"He does," Stormfoot replied calmly, "But so must you."
She turned her gaze on me. "Today we test your agility and response. No claws, just movement. I'll call the patterns."
I swallowed and nodded. My muscles were still sore from yesterday, but I was ready.
"Ready."
Stormfoot nodded once. "Begin. Duck, roll, strike."
I moved fast—low to the ground, rolling sideways and springing forward with my paws outstretched. The moss bundle tipped under my weight, but I landed a little off-balance.
"Again. Quicker this time."
We trained like that for what felt like moons. My body burned, but Stormfoot never raised her voice. She simply gave instructions—clear, calm, steady as a river stone. When I got it right, she didn't praise, but she gave the smallest nod. It felt like the sun warming my fur.
Off to the side, Lionfur was showing Quiverpaw a new battle stance. The older lion's deep voice carried through the clearing:
"A warrior isn't just strength. It's how you use it. Timing. Confidence."
Quiverpaw grunted. "Even with this leg?"
Lionfur paused. "Especially with that leg. Weakness doesn't make you less—it gives you something others don't expect."
I couldn't help but glance over. Quiverpaw's ears flicked, and he caught me staring. He gave me a tired smile.
"Don't fall behind, Amberpaw," he teased, panting.
I grinned. "I won't."
Stormfoot cleared her throat gently. "Again."
I sprang forward without hesitation. Roll. Strike. Spin. I could feel it this time—my body listening, flowing.
"Better," Stormfoot said. And I felt it too.
Lionfur approached with Quiverpaw trailing him. "Let's test what you've learned," he said. "A mock sparring. You and Quiverpaw."
I blinked. "Against him?"
"You afraid?" Quiverpaw teased again, flicking his tail.
"No," I replied, steady now. "Let's go."
Quiverpaw and I padded to the center of the clearing, circling slowly. His injured hind leg barely dragged now, but I remembered how it faltered during training—just enough to give me a clue. He was taller, older, and more experienced, but I had speed. That had to count for something.
"No claws," Lionfur reminded. "Just skill. First one pinned loses."
Quiverpaw dipped his head. I mirrored him.
Stormfoot's tail flicked. "Begin."
He lunged first—fast for someone with an injury, a feint with his left paw aimed toward my shoulder. I jumped sideways, only to realize it had been a trick. His tail whipped around to catch my hind legs. I yelped as I stumbled, barely managing to twist and land on my paws.
He's fast. Smart. I couldn't let him control the rhythm.
I darted in low, aiming to hit his good side, forcing him to pivot toward his weaker leg. It worked—he stumbled slightly, and I seized the chance to leap onto his back. But he dropped and rolled, and suddenly I was the one pinned beneath him.
"Got you," he purred, smug.
I growled softly and twisted, lashing out with a hind paw to hook around his front leg and pull. He lost balance. I shoved up with all four paws and sent him tumbling back.
We both scrambled upright, panting. Quiverpaw's eyes gleamed.
"Not bad, loner."
I grinned through my breath. "You're slowing down, old cub."
His ears flattened in mock offense. "You take that back."
I darted in again, quicker this time. He was ready, blocking high. But I dove under, swiped his front legs out from under him, and used my shoulder to knock him sideways.
He hit the ground with a soft oof. I pounced, pinning him.
"Got you."
Lionfur chuckled. "Well done, both of you. That was sharper than I expected for a second-day apprentice."
Stormfoot's tail curled around her paws. Her expression was unreadable, but I caught the slight nod.
"You're learning."
Quiverpaw batted my shoulder gently as I let him up. "You fight like a shadow—quiet, quick, and annoying."
I laughed, heart pounding with pride and energy. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was," he said, stretching out on the grass beside me.
As we rested, Stormfoot stood and walked to my side, her soft grey fur catching the sun's light.
"You saw his weakness and used it. But you didn't fight dirty. That's important."
I nodded, still catching my breath. "I just want to be good enough."
"You will be," she said, voice low and certain. "One day."
And for the first time since becoming an apprentice, I believed it.
Just as I was catching my breath beside Quiverpaw, the warm wind shifted—and with it came a scent sharp as broken thorns.
"Stormfoot!"
The shout came from the trees beyond the training hollow. All of us turned at once as a lean lioness bounded into view. Her fur was a rich golden brown, her steps sharp with urgency. Willowclaw. Her narrow amber eyes locked instantly onto Stormfoot.
Stormfoot stood calmly, but I saw the flick of her ears—alert, wary.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice smooth, but firmer now.
Willowclaw's tail lashed. "Sunstar needs you. Now. There's been movement at the Waterpride border."
Lionfur stepped forward, his expression sharpening. "What kind of movement?"
"A hunting patrol crossed too close. Droppaw and Ravenscar them—no fight, but it's getting bold. Too bold." Willowclaw's eyes slid over to me. "Especially with outsiders in our ranks."
My fur bristled.
"That has nothing to do with this," Stormfoot said, stepping between us with a calm that silenced the heat behind Willowclaw's words. "I'll go."
Lionfur grunted. "Take Amberpaw with you. Let her scent the border again. If trouble's coming, she'll need to know what it smells like."
Stormfoot hesitated for a breath, then nodded. "Fine. Quiverpaw, stay with Lionfur. You'll spar again later."
Quiverpaw looked at me as I stood, concern flashing in his eyes. I gave him a small nod—I was ready.
Willowclaw didn't wait. She turned and vanished into the trees, her tail high.
Stormfoot followed at a brisk pace, and I raced after her, paws thudding against the earth. The wind was stronger up here, tugging at my fur. As we ran, I tasted the scent lines of the land again—but this time, something was different.
Tension.
Stormfoot glanced at me once. "Stay close. And keep your claws sheathed—until I say otherwise."
I swallowed and nodded, heart pounding. This wasn't a lesson anymore.
This was real.
I followed close behind Stormfoot, weaving through the underbrush. The wind tugged at my fur, carrying the cold, damp scent of the river.
"Where's Willowclaw?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. The forest was still behind us now, silent.
"She's probably back at camp," Stormfoot replied without slowing. "She's a healer. She's not allowed to fight."
I blinked. That made sense, I guessed—but the fire in Willowclaw's eyes earlier had felt anything but soft.
The trees thinned ahead, and I caught the distant sound of water lapping gently against stone. Stormfoot lifted her tail, signaling for silence. My paws instinctively lightened.
We emerged at the Waterpride border, a narrow strip of open earth leading down to a fast-moving river. The water shimmered under the sunlight, calm—but the air around it wasn't.
Stormfoot raised her nose. Her pale blue eyes narrowed.
I stepped forward and did the same. The scent markers were faintly blurred. Our own—Sunpride—were clear. But just beyond them, the heavy, fish-oil musk of Waterpride clung like mist. Fresh. Recent.
"They were here," I whispered.
Stormfoot nodded. "Too close."
I padded further, careful not to step over the line. My nose brushed a small clump of crushed grass near a stone. There—claw marks. Not deep, but deliberate. A warning? Or a mistake?
"Stormfoot…" I murmured. "Look at this."
She padded over, ears pricked. Her gaze flicked between the claw marks and the flattened reeds nearby. "They weren't just passing through," she muttered. "They lingered."
A growl rumbled in her throat. I took a step back, feeling the weight of the moment. For the first time, I saw her not as my calm, gentle mentor—but as a warrior, cool and calculating.
"Come on," she said, voice tight. "We're going back. Sunmoon needs to know."
I followed quickly, casting one last glance across the river.
And there, just beyond the far bank, half-shrouded in willow branches—a pair of golden eyes met mine.
They blinked once, then vanished.
I froze.
"Stormfoot…"
She stopped. "What is it?"
I hesitated. "I think… we were being watched."
Stormfoot's tail flicked. She looked over her shoulder at the trees. Her voice dropped.
"Then move fast. And stay close."
This time, I didn't need to be told twice.
We made it back just before sunhigh, Stormfoot leading the way with long, silent strides. My paws were sore from the fast pace, and my head buzzed with what I'd seen—those golden eyes across the river, calm and unblinking.
Camp was busy when we returned. Droppaw and Peakpaw were mock-fighting near the warriors' den, while Quiverpaw limped across camp carrying a bundle of moss in his jaws. Bluepaw sat in the shade, sorting feathers from a small pile of prey.
Stormfoot disappeared into Sunmoon's den without a word, leaving me near the center of camp with the memory of that stare still fresh in my mind.
"Amberpaw!" Darkpaw called as he padded over. "How was training?"
I hesitated before answering. "We went to the Waterpride border." I dropped my voice, eyes flicking around to make sure no warriors were nearby. "And... I saw someone. On the other side of the river. Watching us."
Darkpaw frowned, setting down the moss. "You're sure?"
"I know what I saw," I said, more sharply than I meant to. "Golden eyes. Just... watching. Then gone."
Bluepaw rose and padded over, tail twitching. "That's not good. Stormfoot must've believed you. She went straight to Sunmoon."
"Maybe it was a scout?" Quiverpaw suggested, but I could see the unease in his eyes.
"If it was," Bluepaw murmured, "they shouldn't have been that close to the border."
Droppaw trotted over, clearly having heard the last part. "Are you telling ghost stories already, Amberpaw?" he teased, but there was a flicker of concern under his grin.
"She's serious," Bluepaw said quietly. "Someone was watching. From the Waterpride side."
Droppaw's playful look faded. "Then we should be ready. If Waterpride is sniffing around, something's coming."
The five of us stood there, a quiet circle of apprentices, while the sun cast flickering shadows across the camp walls. I looked toward the high ledge, where Stormfoot's silhouette stood beside Sunstar's.
I didn't know what those golden eyes meant, or why they made my fur prickle with unease. But I knew one thing:
This was just the beginning.