The morning sun filtered through the gaps in the apprentice den, warm and soft. I stretched, my limbs sore from yesterday's training. Outside, the camp buzzed with the usual movement—patrols organizing, elders grumbling, kits tumbling. Everything looked normal. But I couldn't shake the image of those golden eyes from the riverbank.
As I padded toward the fresh-kill pile, Stormfoot's voice stopped me.
"No, not yet. We don't want to start something unless we're sure."
I froze.
"You saw the tracks, Sunmoon," Stormfoot went on, his voice low but firm. "They were fresh. Waterpride's been sending more cats to the river."
"I'm aware," came Sunmoon's voice—quiet, cool, but sharp-edged. "But a single misstep could mean war. We don't have the numbers for that."
I pressed myself low behind a bush near the Highledge, heart thudding.
"If it keeps happening," Stormfoot said, "you'll have to make a choice. They're testing us."
Sumoon didn't answer right away. Then: "Let them test. Sunpride doesn't bend."
My paws felt suddenly too heavy to move. Waterpride was watching us… or worse.
I slipped away before either of them saw me. My thoughts spun like a leaf in a windstorm. Were we on the edge of a battle?
Later that day, I found Droppaw and Bluepaw sharing a squirrel near the apprentice den. I hesitated, then padded over, sitting down beside them.
"I heard something," I said quietly. "About Waterpride."
Droppaw's ears twitched. "What do you mean?"
"I overheard Stormfoot and Sunmoon. They said Waterpride's been coming close to the river. Testing us."
Droppaw narrowed his eyes. "They've been doing that since newleaf. Sunmoon just doesn't want the camp panicking."
Bluepaw glanced around, voice low. "There's more to it. My mentor said Waterpride has a new deputy—Minnowtail. She clever. Doesn't like peace."
Droppaw snorted. "None of them do. They sit in the reeds all day thinking they're better than us."
I stared at the ground. "What happens if they cross the border again?"
Bluepaw shrugged, but his jaw was tight. "Then Sunpride has to make a choice."
Droppaw tossed the last bit of squirrel bone aside. "Hope you're ready to fight, Amberpaw."
"I don't want a fight," I whispered.
"Doesn't matter," Bluepaw said softly. "The river's already moving. We just have to be ready when it floods."
I looked at them both. I wasn't born in Sunpride—but it was my home now.
If Waterpride came for us… I'd be ready.
Even if I was scared.
"Come on, let's find some new moss and feathers for the elders. Deafear and Oneeye love it," Droppaw meowed as he got to his paws, stretching out with a yawn that ended in a playful flick of his tail.
Bluepaw rose too, rolling his eyes. "Yes—if the moss isn't too wet, too dry, or the feathers aren't too messy," he said, his whiskers twitching in amusement… though a flicker of tiredness dulled the edge of his smile.
I padded after them through the camp entrance, the sunlight warm on my back. The world outside the walls always felt wider, fuller—like I could breathe deeper.
As we reached a small grove near the stream where moss grew thick between rocks, I finally asked, "What's the history of Sunpride? Like… how did it start? And how long have the prides been divided?"
Bluepaw's ears flicked thoughtfully. "That's a big question," he murmured.
Droppaw, already nose-deep in a patch of moss, looked up. "Sunpride used to be part of one big pride—Moonpride. But after the Great Rift, the four prides split. Sunpride stayed here, where the sun hits the grass just right. That's where the name came from."
"Great Rift?" I echoed, plucking a few moss tufts and shaking out dirt.
"Some say it was a disagreement between the old leaders," Bluepaw said. "Others say it was a battle that tore the pride in four. Waterpride took the rivers, Rockpride the stones, Windpride the hills—and Sunpride stayed in the heart."
"And we haven't been united since," Droppaw added, voice quieter now.
I nodded slowly, dropping the moss into a pile. "Do you think we ever will be again?"
Droppaw shrugged. "Maybe. If the stars ever agree."
Bluepaw shook his head slightly. "Not with how tense things are now. Did you hear about Waterpride's patrol crossing the river again?"
My ears perked up, remembering Sunstar's conversation. "I… might've overheard something," I admitted. "Stormfoot and Sunstar were talking."
"Then you already know it's bad," Bluepaw muttered. "Waterpride's been sniffing too close to the border. Again."
"Why do they do that?" I asked, placing a perfect feather beside the moss bundle.
"Because power makes lions greedy," Droppaw said, voice unusually serious. "And some leaders don't know when enough is enough."
Bluepaw brushed a smooth feather against his paw before adding it to the pile. "Let's just hope Sunstar knows what she doing."
I looked down at our gathered moss and feathers—green and soft, white and bright. Things meant to bring comfort to the old and wise.
And yet… all I could feel was the wind shifting. Like something was coming.
We ran back to camp, moss and feathers bundled carefully in our jaws. As we padded into the elders' den, the familiar scent of dried herbs, old fur, and warmth greeted us.
Deafear lifted her head, her ears twitching slightly. Foxkit was curled up between her front paws, but he perked up the moment he saw us.
"Oh! Bringing new moss and feathers, are you?" Deafear meowed with a pleased hum.
Foxcub's eyes lit up. "Amberpaw! I haven't seen you at all lately. You've been so busy since you became an apprentice!"
I laughed and set down my moss. "Yeah, that's how it is being an apprentice—no time to breathe."
Littletail's deep voice came from behind Deafear. "Enough talking, Foxcub. Stop whining like that."
"Oh, Littletail," Oneeye grumbled, rolling her eyes, "give the cub some freedom."
She turned to us, rising to her paws slowly with a wince. "Come on then, let's see what you've brought. This moss better not be wet."
Deafear flicked her tail, ears flattening. "Who says you get to choose first, honey badger?"
"Because I'm one of the eldest, and I'm the one with weak legs," Oneeye retorted, giving her shoulder a proud lick.
"I am the eldest," Blackfoot said calmly, but with a pointed look at both lionesses. "So I get first choice."
"Shut up, Blackfoot!" Deafear and Oneeye hissed at the same time.
Foxcub burst into giggles behind them.
Droppaw leaned close and muttered, "Elders' den is more dramatic than a snake in a thornbush."
I grinned, watching the three elders bicker with the ease of old friends. Their claws might have dulled, but their tongues were still sharp.
That night, I lay curled in my nest between Bluepaw and Darkpaw. The warmth of their fur pressed lightly against mine, comforting and steady. I turned my head to look outside the den. Darkness had spilled across the sky, thick and endless, broken only by the faint glimmer of stars above.
All around me, the soft sounds of sleeping lions filled the air—slow, even breaths, the occasional sigh, a twitching paw here and there. The den felt safe. Warm. Alive.
I let out a quiet breath and rested my head on my front paws.
And slowly, I drifted off to sleep.
I stood near the training hollow. The moon hung high above me, casting silver light across the clearing. It was night—cool, quiet, the kind that made the stars feel close enough to touch.
Then, just as I took a step forward, a voice whispered beside my ear. Not loud. Not soft. Just… there.
"Only one drop into the water is enough to start a wave. Be careful, young lion."
I froze.
"W-What? Who's there?" I spun around. Nothing. No shadows. No scent. No pawsteps. Just the wind brushing through the grass.
The voice had been real—I felt it.
And then—
I jolted awake.
It was dawn now. The den was still dim, lit only by the pale morning light sneaking in through the entrance. Bluepaw slept beside me, chest rising and falling slowly. Darkpaw snored softly a few tail-lengths away. All was still.
But my heart raced, and the voice still echoed in my ears.
"Only one drop into the water…"
A shiver crawled down my spine.
Was that… a dream? No, it felt different. Too real. Too heavy. Like it meant something.
I didn't know why I'd dreamed it. I didn't know who that voice belonged to
Stormfoot poked her head into the apprentice's den, her pale blue eyes finding me immediately. "Time for dawn patrol, Amberpaw," she meowed. Then, more gently, "Take some food before joining us."
I nodded, still shaken from the dream but not wanting to show it. My paws moved automatically as I got up, careful not to wake Bluepaw. I padded over to the fresh-kill pile, picked a small mouse, and ate it quickly. The taste barely registered.
When I finished, I trotted over to Stormfoot, who waited just outside camp. "The others are waiting," she said, already turning.
I followed her through the thorn tunnel, the morning air cool and fresh around us. Outside, Whiteclaw stood like a carved stone, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Ravenscar gave me a flick of his tail in greeting, eyes sharp..
I fell in step behind Stormfoot, glancing once at Whiteclaw. His gaze didn't linger on me long, but I could still feel it.
The sun hadn't yet broken over the horizon, and the forest was painted in early gray light. My paws brushed through the dew-covered grass, and even though I'd just eaten, my stomach was tight.
I couldn't shake the dream.
The voice.
The warning.
And I didn't know what worried me more—
That I'd heard it…
Or that maybe… it was meant for me.
Ravenscar led the patrol toward the border between Sunpride and Waterpride, his sleek black fur striped even darker, glinting under the soft light of dawn. His pace was steady, but there was a quiet focus in the way his ears twitched, always alert.
Whiteclaw padded beside Stormfoot, glancing at me now and then with narrowed eyes. He huffed through his nose, the movement rippling through his thick, flowing fur—predominantly white, with bold black patches along his shoulders and flanks. His body moved with cold grace, but his tail lashed in irritation.
After some time in silence, he finally broke it with a sharp hiss. "Why is the loner with us? One of Firetail's ideas?"
"No," Stormfoot answered calmly, not missing a step. "I asked for it. It's part of training. You, of all lions, should remember that, Whiteclaw."
He scoffed again, saying nothing more. I looked up at Stormfoot, and she met my gaze with a soft gleam of support. I flicked my ears in quiet thanks.
Suddenly, Ravenscar raised his tail sharply—a silent signal. We all froze.
The patrol dropped low behind a half-dead bush, its branches sparse and brittle. My fur prickled as I crouched, heart pounding.
"What is it?" Whiteclaw asked, his voice low.
Ravenscar's gaze locked ahead, his words nearly a breath. "Waterpride patrol. They're coming this way."
The world narrowed down to scent and sound. Pawsteps approached—slow, steady. Then three lions appeared on the other side of the border.
The first was a sleek lioness, her silvery-blue coat darkening along her spine and tail, faint dapples along her flanks like fallen rain. Her sea-green eyes scanned the border casually. Beside her walked another slender lioness, just as silver-blue, her limbs long and lean, eyes pale as misted water. Trailing them was a heavyset tom, muddy brown in color with broad, thick paws. His small brown eyes and flat nose gave him a blunt, tired look.
"Mudbelly, you sure about this?" the dappled lioness murmured.
The brown tom—Mudbelly—grunted. "Ripplemoon says the Moon Rock belongs to Waterpride. Or will soon. A little hunting nearby won't matter."
Stormfoot growled low in her throat beside me, but a flick of Ravenscar's tail silenced her.
Then she leaned toward me, voice a whisper in my ear. "Amberpaw. Run back to camp. Find Firetail. Tell him exactly what you heard. Go slow—don't let them see you."
My heart jumped into my throat, but I nodded. Slowly, carefully, I backed away. My belly brushed the ground, tail tucked so flat it nearly vanished under me. My ears twitched with every rustle, every breath.
I didn't look back. I just ran.
I tore through the territory, paws barely touching the ground. The thorn entrance to camp came into view, and I burst through it, chest heaving.
I looked around wildly—no sign of Firetail.
Heart hammering, I sprinted to the warriors' den. Only Rainstorm and Treefoot lay inside, both curled into each other in sleep. No use.
Spinning around, I bolted for the apprentices' den. Bluepaw was there, calmly grooming his paw. As soon as he saw me, he sprang up with a flick of his tail.
"Amberpaw? What's wrong?"
"Where... where... Firetail?" I panted, barely able to get the words out between breaths.
"He's out with Darkpaw," Bluepaw replied quickly. "Why—what happened?"
I didn't answer. I just turned and raced back out through the thorn tunnel, ears flat, breath sharp. Once outside, I dropped low and sniffed. There—his scent. Fresh.
I followed it, paws pounding, until the familiar shape of the Oldclaw's Tree came into view. I spotted the flash of tortoiseshell fur against the roots—Firetail.
"Firetail!" I called, skidding to a stop in front of him.
Darkpaw turned toward me, blinking in confusion. Firetail stood quickly, eyes sharp with worry.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Amberpaw, why aren't you with the dawn patrol?"
I tried to catch my breath, my lungs burning. My tail twitched with urgency, and I met his gaze with wide eyes.
"Waterpride patrol," I gasped. "They crossed the border… Mudbelly said Ripplemoon thinks the Moon Rock will be theirs soon. Said a hunt wouldn't hurt…"
Firetail's ears snapped forward, and his whole body went rigid.
"What?" he growled, his eyes suddenly burning like wildfire. Darkpaw stepped closer, eyes narrowed in alarm.
"They're over the border," I panted, still catching my breath. "Three of them. A lioness with rain-drop fur, another with long legs, and a big one—Mudbelly. He said Ripplemoon wants the Moon Rock soon. They were hunting."
For a heartbeat, Firetail didn't move. Then, suddenly, he turned on his heels.
"Darkpaw—run back to camp. Wake Sunmoon. Tell her exactly what Amberpaw just said. Don't stop for anything."
Darkpaw dipped his head and shot off like a dart.
Firetail looked down at me, his voice lower but no less fierce. "You did the right thing. Very well done, Amberpaw."
My ears twitched at the praise, but my paws were still shaking.
"Come with me," Firetail said, already padding forward. "We're heading back to the border. If Waterpride's still there, I want to see it myself."
He didn't wait for a reply.
I followed him, paws thudding fast against the dry dirt trail, heart still racing. The forest was too quiet, like it was holding its breath. I swallowed.
Would we be too late?
I followed Firetail, my paws sore, but I didn't really care. When we arrived, we were met by Stormfoot and the others crouched low in the undergrowth. Stormfoot gave me a small nod, her eyes unreadable, while Firetail padded silently up to Ravenscar.
"Have they hunted yet?" he asked quietly.
"They've tried," Ravenscar murmured back, his tone clipped. "But the birds flew off, and the mice ran into the rocks. No real luck."
I crept closer to Stormfoot and whispered, "What is Moon Rock?"
Whiteclaw let out a huff, clearly annoyed, but for once held his tongue.
Stormfoot leaned down slightly, her voice low. "Moon Rock is part of Sunpride's territory, but it lies right on the border. There's always been tension over it… but Waterpride's never used dirty tricks like—"
She cut herself off as Firetail threw her a warning glare.
I flattened myself to the ground, ears twitching nervously. My heart pounded, and suddenly, I remembered the dream.
"Only one drop into the water is enough to start a wave. Be careful, young lion…"
The memory made a shiver run down my spine. Maybe… maybe this was the drop. The one that would start the wave.
I didn't mean to speak aloud, but the thought slipped out anyway.
"What if… what if what Mudbelly said isn't real?"
Stormfoot looked at me, blinking slowly.
Whiteclaw's ears snapped back and he snarled, "Shut your mouth, Loner. You don't know anything about Pride life. We don't need your thoughts right now."
Ravenscar didn't say a word—but the sharp look he gave me said he agreed.
I shrank back, heat burning in my chest. I didn't belong here. Not really.
But the dream wouldn't leave me alone.
"It doesn't matter," Firetail whispered, his voice barely more than breath. "Let's go back."
Quietly, we began to sneak away, our paws careful on the rocky ground. Stormfoot kept close to my side, shielding me slightly from the others. Whiteclaw's tail flicked irritably, and Ravenscar didn't even glance at me.
The bushes rustled faintly behind us, but the Waterpride lions didn't seem to notice. They were still talking, too focused on their quiet hunt—and their conversation.
My ears twitched. Moon Rock… Ripplemoon… dirty tricks… The words stayed tangled in my head like thorns.
As we moved deeper into the safety of Sunpride's territory, the tension in the air slowly began to lift—but something told me the real trouble was only just beginning.
Sunmoon waited for us near the Highrock, sitting quietly in the shadows. Her ears perked as we slipped through the entrance. I followed the others toward her but stayed silent as the warriors began their report.
As if sensing that I had something to say, Sunmoon brushed the others off with a flick of her tail.
"Amberpaw, come with me to my den," she said softly.
Her voice was gentle, but I could hear the tension behind it—like claws hidden behind soft moss.
Inside the old tree den, the air was cooler, dim. Sunmoon sat down in her nest, her golden eyes watching me carefully.
"What's on your heart?" she asked. "Most apprentices don't sit back during a report."
I hesitated, then repeated the thought that had been swirling inside me since the patrol.
"What if… what if what Mudbelly said isn't real?" I echoed, then added quietly, "Stormfoot said Waterpride has never used dirty tricks like this before. And… and sometimes, there only needs to be one drop to make a wave."
Sunmoon studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded slowly.
"Yes. That may be true. But one drop can also sink a ship if the waves grow too large. We can't risk believing in hope alone."
She looked down at her paws, then back at me. "I've already asked Ripplemoon to speak at the next Gathering."
With that, she gently flicked her tail, signaling me to go.
I padded out of her den, my thoughts a tangled storm.
Later, as we shared a squirrel outside the apprentices' den, I turned to Droppaw.
"Hey… what's the Gathering?"
He blinked at me, a shred of fur still clinging to his chin. "You really don't know?" he asked, not unkindly—just surprised.
I shook my head. "I wasn't raised in the pride, remember?"
Droppaw gave a small hum and flicked his ear. "Right. Well… the Gathering happens once every full moon. All the prides—Sunpride, Waterpride, Windpride, and Rockpride—meet in peace. No fighting allowed, even if you hate each other's guts." He gave a wry grin. "It's mostly just the leaders sharing news and trying not to start a war with a glare."
I blinked. "All the prides? Together? In one place?"
"Yeah. At the Stone Hollow." He stretched, licking his paw lazily. "It's this big rocky clearing with a spire in the middle—Moonpride's stone, they say. We meet there when the moon is high. Even the leaders act like they've got manners, at least for one night."
I was quiet for a moment, thinking about how many lions that would be… how tense it must feel.
Droppaw nudged me. "Why? You think we'll go?"
I looked at him, then back at the sky. "Sunmoon said she asked Ripplemoon to speak at the next one…"
His ears twitched. "Huh. Then we might be in for something big."