Ironheart's POV

The camp felt like a den of thorns—every breath prickling with unease. I lingered near the apprentices' hollow, my gaze fixed on Brambleclaw's retreating form as he stalked away from Harestar, his tail lashing like a wounded adder. The sunlight filtering through the canopy did little to warm the chill in my chest. Since when did ThunderClan feel so fractured?

A familiar scent cut through the tang of dried blood and bitter herbs. Ashsong padded toward me, her sandy pelt glowing like honey in the dappled light, Frostwhisker lumbering beside her with her usual gruff grace. Our sister's thick gray fur was matted along her flank, a fresh cobweb dressing peeking through the tangles.

"There you are, brother," Ashsong trilled, rubbing her muzzle against mine. Her voice was too bright, too forced—a songbird chirping through a storm. "We've been looking everywhere. Even checked the dirtplace!"

I huffed, flicking her ear with my tail. "Charming."

Frostwhisker snorted, settling heavily onto her haunches. "Don't encourage her. She's been insufferable since Leafpool cleared her for patrols."

"Jealousy's a nasty look on you, Frost," Ashsong shot back, though her eyes crinkled with affection.

I turned to our eldest sister, noting the tightness in her shoulders, the way she favored her left forepaw. "How are your wounds treating you?"

Frostwhisker shrugged, her amber gaze sweeping the camp. "Like a badger's embrace. But I'll live." She nodded toward the medicine den, where Leafpool was bundling herbs with Jayfeather. "Unlike some."

The unspoken weight of Thornclaw's condition hung between us. Ashsong's cheer faltered, her tail drooping. "Do you think Harestar's right?" she murmured, her voice small. "About allying with RiverClan?"

Frostwhisker's ear twitched. "Doesn't matter what we think. Ravenscar's claws won't care about our opinions."

I followed her gaze to the Highledge, where Harestar stood silhouetted against the sky, her head high but her frame weary. Brambleclaw's accusations still hissed in my mind. Target on our backs. Was he right? Or was this the only way to survive?

"Harestar's no fool," I said finally, more to convince myself than them. "She's seen more battles than any of us. If she trusts Leopardstar..."

"Trusts her?" Frostwhisker interrupted, a growl edging her words. "Or needs her?"

Ashsong bristled. "What's the difference?"

Before Frostwhisker could retort, a yowl split the air. Whitestorm stood at the camp entrance, his snowy pelt streaked with mud. "Patrols! Now! Ravenscar's scent's been spotted near the Thunderpath!"

The camp erupted into motion—warriors scrambling, apprentices tripping over their own paws. Ashsong bounded forward, eyes alight, while Frostwhisker heaved herself up with a grunt.

"Coming, Ironheart?" Frostwhisker tossed over her shoulder.

I hesitated, watching Harestar descend from the Highledge, her stride unflinching. Brambleclaw fell in beside her, his expression venomous but his steps matching hers. However divided, they still moved as one.

"Yeah," I said, tearing my gaze away. "Let's go."

Family first. Clan always.

Even when the ground beneath us felt like it was crumbling.

SCENEBREAK

The forest hummed with life, sunlight dappling the ferns as I crouched low, my paws sinking into the damp earth. A fat frog croaked lazily on a moss-cushioned stone, oblivious. I lunged, the thrill of the hunt sharpening my senses, and snagged it mid-leap. The catch was clean, quick—a flick of my wrist, and it arced through the air, landing with a soft plop in the shallows of the creek.

"Well done, brother!" Ashsong's voice trilled from the thicket, her sandy pelt a blur as she sprang after a rabbit. Her laughter was light, infectious, the tension of recent days momentarily forgotten. Prey was plentiful today—plump voles scurrying through the undergrowth, blackbirds chattering in the hawthorns, the air sweet with the musk of clover and sun-warmed pine.

For a heartbeat, it felt like the old days. Before rogues. Before scars.

Then the wind shifted.

A scent sliced through the forest's perfume—sharp, mineral, like wet stone and iron. My pelt prickled. I whirled, hackles rising, as the ferns ahead shuddered.

She emerged like a storm cloud given form: Karizza, her massive gray frame parting the undergrowth with ease. Her pelt wasn't fur but overlapping scales, smooth as river pebbles, glinting dully in the filtered light. Her paws were broad, clawed like a badger's, and her tail—thick and serpentine—swayed behind her with a predator's grace. But it was her eyes that seized me—pale blue, luminous as moonlit ice, burning with an intensity that made my throat tighten.

"Eat your food, kits," she rumbled, her voice a low, resonant purr that seemed to vibrate in my bones. She dropped a freshly killed squirrel at the base of an oak, its fur still glistening.

The two kits beside her—tiny, mottled things with her same eerie eyes—darted forward, nibbling obediently. One glanced up at me, shy, before hiding behind Karizza's foreleg.

"Yes, Auntie," I murmured, dipping my head. My voice sounded small, childish, even to me.

Ashsong trotted to my side, her rabbit forgotten, her gaze wide. Frostwhisker lingered back, her scarred muzzle twitching—I couldn't tell if it was distrust or awe.

Karizza's lips curled, revealing fangs too long, too sharp, for any cat I'd ever seen. "Good," she said, though her stare lingered on Frostwhisker's stiff posture. "Strength comes from full bellies, yes? Even for clever hunters."

The compliment should've warmed me. Instead, my tail coiled tight. There was something in her tone—a honeyed edge, like prey laced with deathberry juice.

Ashsong, ever fearless, stepped forward. "Will you hunt with us, Auntie? Show us how you caught that squirrel?"

Karizza's laugh was a rumble, the sound echoing oddly, as if the forest itself held its breath. "Another time, little song." She turned, her scales whispering against the bracken. "Today, the shadows are... hungry."

With that, she melted into the trees, her kits scrambling after her. The woods sighed, birdsong resuming as though a spell had broken.

Frostwhisker finally spoke, her voice a growl. "Since when does she care if we eat?"

I had no answer. Only the memory of those blue eyes, bright and bottomless, and the squirrel's blood seeping into the roots of the oak.

Then, without warning, Karizza's battle-hardened yowl split the air.

Before I could react, she barreled into me, slamming me onto the forest floor with crushing force. The wind was knocked from my lungs as my back scraped against rough bark and tangled roots.

"Hey!" Frostwhisker's startled yelp rang out, sharp and indignant. Her claws scuffed the dirt as she spun toward us, but her voice was abruptly cut off.

A towering shape swept past, blotting out the moonlight. Frostwhisker's wide eyes gleamed in the shadows as disbelief twisted across her face. For a moment, it was as if the forest itself had uprooted and come alive. The creaking, groaning boughs of a massive banyan tree splintered the air as it came crashing down, narrowly missing Ashsong.

"Get down, you fools!" Karizza's fierce snarl cut through the chaos.

Ashsong and Frostwhisker instinctively obeyed, pressing their bellies to the forest floor as leaves and splinters rained down around us.

Above us, branches swayed dangerously, disturbed by something—or someone. My gaze snapped upward just in time to see a shadow detach itself from the treetops. A massive figure leaped down, landing with a thud that reverberated through the earth.

The cat was unlike any I had ever seen—muscular, wild, and draped in mottled fur that gleamed faintly in the moonlight. A crude mask obscured its face, lending it an eerie, otherworldly presence. Its mandibles—yes, mandibles, not fangs—clicked ominously as it surveyed us with eyes that glowed like embers.

Then it spoke, its voice guttural but unmistakably in our tongue:

"Find the kaiju. Find the dragons."

My fur bristled as the meaning sank in, but there was no time to dwell on it. A sudden cacophony erupted behind us—the frenzied yelps and snarls of countless dogs.

They poured over the fallen log like a living tide, jaws snapping, eyes gleaming with wild hunger.

Karizza snarled beside me, claws unsheathed. "Steel yourselves!"

The forest trembled beneath their charge, and I knew this was no ordinary battle. This was a storm unleashed.