Harestar's POV

The medicine den was a cacophony of pain and urgency, the air thick with the tang of herbs and the metallic bite of blood. Leafpool moved with practiced efficiency, her paws darting between the wounded warriors as she muttered under her breath. Jayfeather, his blue eyes sharp despite his blindness, pressed a poultice to Bearstrike's gashed flank, his tail lashing in frustration.

"Hold still," he snapped as Bearstrike flinched. "Unless you want this to fester."

I winced as Leafpool's gentle paws probed the claw marks along my shoulder. The wounds burned, but the sting was nothing compared to the weight of guilt pressing on my chest. So many wounded. So many lives hanging by a thread.

"You're lucky this wasn't deeper," Leafpool murmured, her voice tight with worry. "Ravenscar's claws are filthy. Infection is a bigger threat than the wounds themselves."

I nodded, though the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through my neck. "How's Thornclaw?"

Jayfeather's ears flattened. "Alive. Barely. If he makes it through the night, he might pull through. But he won't be fighting anytime soon."

Bearstrike's breath hitched, her golden fur matted with blood and dirt. "He's strong," she whispered, though her voice trembled. "He'll make it."

Leafpool exchanged a glance with Jayfeather, their silent communication speaking volumes. They didn't believe her.

The den's entrance rustled, and Whitestorm ducked inside, his snowy pelt streaked with mud and blood. "The rogues are gone," he reported, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "For now."

"For now," I echoed, my tail twitching. Ravenscar's laughter still echoed in my mind, his promise to burn the forest to the ground a shadow I couldn't shake.

Jayfeather turned to me, his sightless gaze piercing. "You're lucky you're not in worse shape. Charging Ravenscar like that—what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of my clan," I snapped, though the words came out weaker than I intended. My shoulder throbbed, a reminder of my recklessness.

Leafpool sighed, her paws stilling on my fur. "You can't save everyone, Harestar. Not if you get yourself killed in the process."

The words stung, but they were true. I'd let my anger—my fear—cloud my judgment. And now my clan was paying the price.

Whitestorm settled beside me, his warmth a small comfort. "We held the line," he said quietly. "That's what matters."

"For now," I repeated, my gaze drifting to Thornclaw's still form. "But Ravenscar won't stop. And neither will Ashfur."

The name hung in the air like a storm cloud. Bearstrike's ears flattened, and Leafpool's paws faltered. Jayfeather's tail lashed.

"Ashfur's betrayal changes everything," Whitestorm said, his voice grim. "If he's feeding Ravenscar information..."

"Then we're fighting a war on two fronts," I finished, my claws flexing against the moss. "One we can't afford to lose."

Leafpool pressed a final poultice to my shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. "Rest," she ordered. "You're no good to anyone if you collapse."

I wanted to argue, to insist I was fine, but the weight of exhaustion dragged at my limbs. The den's shadows seemed to deepen, the wounded warriors' soft moans a haunting lullaby.

As I closed my eyes, Ravenscar's laughter echoed again, a promise and a threat.

This isn't over.

SCE NEBREAK

The sun spilled over the camp, its golden light warming my pelt as I stretched in the grass outside the medicine den. The wounds along my shoulder and flank still ached, but the stiffness was fading, replaced by a dull throb that I could ignore. For now.

Brambleclaw lay nearby, his dark tabby fur ruffled as his son, Shadowpaw, tended to a gash on his hind leg. The young wolf pup—his wolfish heritage evident in his sharp features and keen senses—worked with surprising gentleness, his tongue smoothing the poultice Leafpool had prepared.

"There," Shadowpaw said, stepping back with a satisfied flick of his tail. "You're ready."

He turned to me, his amber eyes narrowing as he sniffed at my wounds. "You, too, Grandma. Need to get your wounds checked."

I lashed my tail, though the motion sent a twinge through my shoulder. "I'm fine, Shadowpaw. Don't worry too much."

The pup twitched his nose, clearly unconvinced, but he nodded and trotted off to join Opalpaw and Firepaw, who were chatting with Berrynose and Daisy near the fresh-kill pile. Their laughter carried across the clearing, a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped the camp since the battle.

Brambleclaw rose, his movements stiff, and fixed me with a glare that could've stripped bark from a tree. "Are you happy, Harestar?" he mewed, his tone bitter as crow-food.

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Are you happy we're being targeted by rogues because of you?" he repeated, his voice rising enough to draw the attention of nearby warriors.

The camp seemed to hold its breath. Even Shadowpaw paused, his ears swiveling toward us.

I stood, my tail lashing, though my legs trembled slightly beneath me. "If you have something to say, Brambleclaw, say it plainly."

He stepped closer, his amber eyes blazing. "You've been sneaking around with Leopardstar, making deals, keeping secrets—and now Ravenscar's rogues are tearing through our territory, targeting us because of whatever game you're playing. So I'll ask again: are you happy?"

The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. Around us, warriors exchanged uneasy glances. Oak'song hovered near the nursery, his gaze darting between me and Brambleclaw, while Whitestorm emerged from the warriors' den, his snowy pelt glowing in the sunlight.

I took a breath, forcing my fur to lie flat. "I didn't ask for Ravenscar's rogues to attack us," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging in my chest. "But I am doing everything I can to protect this clan. If that means allying with RiverClan, so be it."

Brambleclaw's lip curled. "Protect us? You've put a target on our backs!"

"Enough!" Whitestorm's voice boomed across the clearing, silencing the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the clan. He stepped between us, his massive frame a barrier of calm authority. "Brambleclaw, your anger is misplaced. Harestar didn't create this threat—she's trying to end it."

Brambleclaw's tail lashed, but he didn't argue. Instead, he turned and stalked away, his shoulders stiff with resentment.

The camp slowly returned to its routines, but the tension lingered, a shadow beneath the sun's warmth. I sank back onto the grass, my wounds throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

Shadowpaw approached again, his expression unreadable. "You should let Leafpool check your wounds," he said quietly. "Even leaders need to heal."

I sighed, nodding. "You're right, Shadowpaw. Thank you."

As he trotted off, I glanced at the sky, the sun blazing high above. Ravenscar's threat loomed like a storm on the horizon, but for now, ThunderClan was still standing.

And I'd do whatever it took to keep it that way.