Cindercloud rasped her tongue over her shoulder, grimacing at the pain. She'd injured it when she had fallen off a tree chasing a squirrel; luckily, the branches had broken the fall, but they scraped a gash on her shoulder.

Her foster mother, Ivybrook, would be furious when she found out. She'd have to waste shells paying a healer to cure it for her—shells that could have been spent feeding the family.

Cindercloud tilted her head back to watch the sky—a rich, golden orange touched by hues of rosy pink— before her gaze swept around the clearing of the Marketplace. Most of the sellers were already packing away their supplies and heading towards the Clan camp. Which was probably what she should be doing, she realized.

And so, with a sigh, she carefully hid the remaining prey from her prey pile in the hollow of the oak tree, ignoring the part of her that longed to stay and enjoy the peace of the Marketplace—of a place away from Ivybrook's unconcealed distaste and her stepsisters' ever-constant mockery.

But as she wrapped the day's earnings in a piece of dried moss, preparing to leave, she remembered her wounded shoulder, dread pooling in her stomach. When she returned to her family's den, Ivybrook would find out.

Perhaps there was no harm in staying for longer, if only to delay it.

As the last of the cats filed out of the Marketplace, Cindercloud rested her head against the trunk of the oak, breathing in the crisp night air. She watched as the first stars pierced the caliginosity of night like shards of ice, letting out a purr of happiness.

"Oh hi, are you still open?"

Cindercloud whirled around, almost tripping over her own paws. Her eyes found a tom with remarkably azure eyes and a hesitant smile. Underneath the moon, his white pelt was touched by a silvery light that illuminated faint brown streaks.

But the more she looked at him, she couldn't ignore the tugging feeling that he looked somehow familiar. Had she seen him before? No, that wouldn't make sense, because where would have she—

He drew back half a step. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, licking his chest awkwardly. She blinked. She hadn't realized she'd been staring. She gave her pelt a tiny shake, as if she could shake away her thoughts with it.

"Oh! Yes, I'm open! I mean, I'm not , but I-" she gestured vaguely at the tree that she hid the prey in-" I have some prey still-- so I can..." She trailed off, pelt prickling in embarrassment, and cursed herself for being so illogically nervous because of a stranger. But the white cat only tilted his head, amusement sparkling in his eyes in a way that made her wonder if he was holding back laughter. She eyed him balefully before turning away, rummaging through the pile of fresh kill.

She took the time to compose herself before returning with a plump rabbit in her jaws."Here," she mewed, pushing it to him.

Without glancing once at the rabbit, the cat peered at her shoulder. "What happened there? You should really get it treated. It looks like there could be an infection."

"I'm fine." Cindercloud mewed quickly, her tone sharper than she intended. Wincing, she tried again. "It's fine. What brings you here? No one really comes here at this time."

And in an instant, something about him changed. His expression became guarded, and he watched her with a new caution. "Just...passing through." He glanced around wearily.

"I need to go," he meowed, standing up abruptly and turning as if to walk away. But his paw seemed to stall before he could take a step. He pulled out a grey shell from a tightly woven basket of bracken and twigs. "Payment," he explained. "Thanks for the rabbit." He dipped his head in a businesslike nod, before turning away.

"Wait!" The word escaped Cindercloud's mouth before she could stop herself. She hesitated. Swallowed. Opened her mouth, before closing it. There was a moment of silence before she finally said, "At least tell me your name." The tom paused mid step and looked back, considering. Something soft flickered in his gaze.

Cindercloud was already preparing to dismiss her question before he whispered, "Ripplestorm". It was so quiet that she had to strain to hear. Her breath caught in her throat. Ripplestorm. Ripplestorm? As in—as in the prince?

"What...what did you say?" No. He couldn't be the prince. He's not the—

"Cindercloud! What do you think you are doing?"

Before Cindercloud could hear his response, a grey and white she-cat stalked through the entrance. Ivybrook. Her chest tightened. "You should've been back a long time ago," her foster mother snapped as she made her way to the oak tree that marked Cindercloud's station. Ivybrook froze, wide-eyed when she noticed the cat who was beside her.

"Your Highness." The elegant she-cat dipped her head in a grand gesture. The title struck her like a slap, and the air was suddenly stolen from her lungs. He really was the prince?

And suddenly, it made sense. The proud tilt of the chin. The strikingly blue eyes, a known quality of the cats of the royal bloodline. The natural confidence that seemed to radiate from him, a kind of confidence that could only come from being obeyed without question from birth. Now, it seemed so plainly obvious. And yet...

She couldn't help but stare in disbelief. She hadn't known what she expected, really. But she thought that the prince—the heir to the Rose Kingdom and the only kit of the King— would be different. More arrogant, maybe. Self-important, like all royals seemed to be. Perhaps even cold. Instead, he only seemed sincere.

"...anyways, I apologize if my stepdaughter has said anything to offend you, she can be quite thoughtless," Ivybrook purred with a light mew of laughter. Cindercloud was only dimly aware of the conversation, but she tensed when she felt her mother's searing gaze on her.

"Cindercloud."  Ivybrook's voice cut into the air, and Cindercloud's head snapped up. "Go to the camp. We talk about this later."