Harestar's POV

Sunlight pooled like liquid gold across the Highledge, warming the smooth stone where Harestar stood. She arched her spine in a long, deliberate stretch, claws scraping grooves worn by generations of leaders before her. The camp below buzzed with dawn routines—elders squabbling over moss, apprentices tripping over their own paws, the medicine den's herb-scented haze wafting through the clearing. For a heartbeat, it was peace.

Then came the hammering of paws—too fast, too urgent. Harestar's ear twitched, her gaze snapping to the ferns trembling at the camp entrance. Emberfall burst through, her flame-kissed fur bristling, still flecked with debris from the forest floor. Behind her, Birchwhisker and Pinefrost skidded to a halt, their flanks heaving.

Oak's daughter. Fire's blood. Harestar's chest tightened, though her face remained serene. She leaped down from the ledge, landing with a grace that belied her seasons. "Emberfall," she greeted, her voice a low rumble that carried across the camp. Clan cats paused, ears pricked.

The young warrior dipped her head, but her green eyes blazed. "Grandma—"

"Harestar," the leader corrected gently, though her tail brushed Emberfall's shoulder—a fleeting touch. The girl smelled of fear and fury, of ShadowClan's bog-stink clinging to her pelt.

Emberfall swallowed, straightening. "Harestar. Russetstar's at the border. She demands to speak with you."

A murmur rippled through the clan. Somewhere, a queen herded her kits deeper into the nursery. Harestar didn't blink. She studied her granddaughter—the way Emberfall's claws unsheathed and sheathed, the tremor in her voice smothered by sheer will. So like her father. So like Fireheart.

"Demands?" Harestar echoed, her whiskers lifting in a humorless smile. She turned, signaling the patrol with a flick of her tail. "Birchwhisker. Rally the senior warriors. Pinefrost—fetch Cinderwhisker. If ShadowClan wants a chat, we'll greet them with claws and courtesy."

As the clan erupted into motion, Harestar leaned closer to Emberfall, her voice dropping to a murmur only the young warrior could hear. "What did she say to you?"

Emberfall's jaw tightened. "That their patience is thinner than a moon-old rabbit."

Harestar huffed. "Russetstar's always preferred poetry to truth." She glanced at the thorn tunnel, where sunlight fractured into splinters. "Stay close when we meet them. Watch Snailtooth—he favors the left flank."

Emberfall nodded, but her gaze strayed to the nursery, where Oak'song stood rigid in the entrance, his amber eyes locked on his daughter. Harestar followed the look, her own heart a stone. My son. Her father. How many battles must we weave between us?

"Go," she said, louder now, for the clan to hear. "Prepare. ShadowClan's words bite, but ThunderClan's roots run deeper."

As Emberfall spun to obey, Harestar allowed herself one breath—one single, silent breath—to ache. For the kits who grew too fast, for the scars her son bore, for the fire in Emberfall's eyes that mirrored her own youth. Then she straightened, fur smoothing, claws sheathing.

Russetstar wanted a reckoning?

ThunderClan's leader would answer.

SCENEBREAK

The forest floor crunched under my paws as my patrol skidded to a halt, the scent of ShadowClan's marsh-thick borders clawing at my throat. Russetstar stood alone, her russet pelt glowing like a bloodstain against the muted greens of the pine grove. No Snailtooth. No Blackfoot. Just her, smug and solitary, tail coiled like a viper ready to strike.

"Russetstar," I mewed, keeping my voice steady as my warriors fanned out behind me—Brambleclaw's hackles raised, Emberfall's claws unsheathed, Birchwhisker's gaze darting for traps. "Where's your patrol? ShadowClan's leader skulking alone smells like either folly or a snare."

She huffed, her amber eyes glinting. "No snares, Harestar. No war, either. I'm here to ask, not attack." Her tone dripped mock innocence, but her claws flexed, gouging grooves in the damp earth. "Why were you seen whispering with RiverClan's precious Leopardstar at the edge of my territory? Moonhigh meetings. Shared prey. Quite... friendly for two leaders with borders between them."

The air left my lungs. Pine needles seemed to sharpened into daggers at my paws. Brambleclaw lurched forward, his growl ripping through the stillness. "What? What are you babbling about? Our leader wouldn't—"

"Enough, Brambleclaw." My tail slammed down, silencing him, but the damage was done. My clanmates' stares burned my pelt—Brambleclaw's fury, Emberfall's confusion, Birchwhisker's doubt. Traitor, the word hung unspoken, poison on the wind.

Russetstar's smirk widened. "Oh, didn't they know? How... delicate."

My mind raced. Leopardstar had met me—once, twice—her silver pelt flickering in the moonlight as we traded warnings about rogues encroaching both our lands. No prey. No secrets. Just... understanding. But in the eyes of the clans, a leader's midnight stroll with a rival reeked of conspiracy.

"You've been watching shadows too long," I said, my voice colder than leafbare frost. "ThunderClan's business with RiverClan is just that—our business. Unless you're volunteering to groom our elders' ticks, stay out of it."

Brambleclaw hissed, but Emberfall stepped forward, her fur flat, her gaze locked on Russetstar. "Prove it," she challenged. "Where's your witness? Or is ShadowClan so starved for drama they'll yowl at phantoms?"

Russetstar's ear twitched. For a heartbeat, her mask slipped—a flicker of irritation. Then she laughed, sharp and hollow. "Proof? The forest whispers, little firekin. And it screams when ThunderClan's leader sneaks—"

"Enough!" My roar shook the trees, sending a jay screeching into the sky. I advanced, my claws scoring the earth, until my muzzle hovered a whisker from Russetstar's. Her breath stank of frog and spite. "You want war, invent a better lie. ThunderClan's loyalty is to its own. Always."

Her eyes narrowed, but she leaned back, tail lashing. "Loyalty?" she sneered. "Tell that to your clan when they wonder why their leader prowls borders in the dark."

Emberfall's growl deepened, but I flicked my tail, halting her. Russetstar wanted a reaction. A crack in ThunderClan's unity. I wouldn't give it.

"Leave," I hissed. "Before I reconsider ShadowClan's 'peace.'"

She held my gaze a heartbeat longer, then turned, her laugh lingering like a curse. "Sleep lightly, Harestar. The truth always digs its way out."

As her russet tail vanished into the pines, Brambleclaw whirled on me. "You didn't—tell me she's lying! Tell me you'd never—"

"Enough," I repeated, exhaustion sanding the edge off my voice. The patrol fell silent, but their eyes—StarClan, their eyes—bore into me. Emberfall's most of all, Fireheart's legacy blazing in her stare.

"Back to camp," I ordered, turning away. "Now."

The walk home felt endless. Every rustle of leaves echoed Russetstar's taunts. Every glance from my warriors pricked like thorns.

Traitor.

The word gnawed at my heart, not because it was true, but because for the first time in moons, I wondered—

What if my clan believes it?

SCENEBREAK

The patrol's silence was a suffocating shroud, broken only by the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional huff of Brambleclaw's seething breath. The forest seemed to hold its own—no birdsong, no scuttling prey, just the weight of unspoken accusations clotting the air. Then it hit me: a thread of silver scent, sharp and out of place among the loam and pine.

Fish.

I halted mid-stride, my pulse spiking. Leopardstar's signature musk—riverweed and trout—lingered faintly to the east, near the bend where the Thunderpath cut through the woods. Our meeting spot.

Brambleclaw nearly collided with me. "Harestar—?"

"Take them back to camp," I said, my voice clipped, not meeting his gaze. My tail lashed once, a command, not a request. "I'll follow shortly."

"But—"

"Now, Brambleclaw."

His growl rumbled, low and dangerous, but he obeyed, herding Emberfall and Birchwhisker onward with a jerk of his muzzle. Emberfall glanced back, her green eyes narrowed—not with suspicion, but concern. Fireheart's blood sees too much.

I waited until their scents faded, then bolted.

The forest blurred—a streak of moss and shadow—as I wove through the undergrowth, paws flying over roots slick with dew. The Thunderpath's acrid stench grew stronger, mingling with the tang of the river beyond. I skidded to a stop at the edge of a clearing, where rusted Twoleg debris lay half-buried in ivy.

Leopardstar stood atop a crumbling stone slab, her silver peld dappled by sunlight. She turned, her icy blue gaze pinning me before I'd fully emerged from the ferns. "You're late," she drawled, though her tone lacked its usual bite. A fresh scar marred her shoulder, the fur still patchy.

"Russetstar knows," I panted, my sides heaving. "She's spinning tales to my clan—says we're conspiring."

Leopardstar's ear flicked. "Let her yowl. The real threat isn't her gossip." She leaped down, landing soundlessly, and nudged a moss-covered crate with her paw. Beneath it, the earth was churned up, clotted with pawprints too large to be clanborn. "Rogues. Again. Closer this time. They took two of my apprentices last moon—ambushed them at Sunningrocks."

Ice flooded my veins. "Why didn't you send word?"

"And have ShadowClan intercept it?" She bared her teeth. "Russetstar's not the only one with eyes in the dark. These rogues... they're organized. Led by a tom who calls himself Ravenscar. He doesn't want territory. He wants blood. Ours."

The wind shifted, carrying the faintest metallic tang—blood, old but unmistakable. I stepped closer, my nose brushing the disturbed soil. The prints were massive, claw marks scoring deep into the roots. "They're heading for the Gathering," I murmured. "A strike during the truce."

Leopardstar nodded grimly. "Which is why we need to—"

A twig snapped.

We froze, ears swiveling. The undergrowth rustled, then stilled. Leopardstar's hackles lifted, her lips peeling back in a silent snarl. I tasted the air—mud, rot, crow-food.

Rogues.

They struck without warning. Three of them, pelts matted, eyes feral, erupted from the bracken. Ravenscar led, a hulking black tom with a mangled ear and a serrated claw strapped to his foreleg—Twoleg trash turned weapon.

"Well, well," he rasped, his voice like gravel. "The little queens plotting their next feast?"

Leopardstar lunged first, a silver streak, but Ravenscar sidestepped, his claw slashing upward. I leaped, crashing into a scrawny she-rogue reeking of infection. Teeth sank into my flank, but I barely felt it, too focused on the snarls behind me—Leopardstar's hiss, Ravenscar's laugh.

"Run back to your clans!" he taunted, dodging Leopardstar's swipe. "We'll carve our names into your kits' bones!"

A roar tore from my throat. I slammed the she-rogue into a tree, her yowl cut short as she crumpled. Leopardstar had Ravenscornered, her claws raking his muzzle, but the third rogue—a wiry tom with milky eyes—lunged for her exposed side.

"No!" I barreled into him, our bodies tangling in a whirl of claws and fur. His teeth grazed my ear, but I hooked a hindpaw into his belly, kicking hard. He screeched, retreating, and Ravenscar snarled a curse.

"This isn't over," he spat, blood dripping from his torn muzzle. "We'll drown your clans in their own screams."

Then they fled, melting into the shadows as quickly as they'd come.

Leopardstar crouched, panting, a gash welling along her ribs. "We need to warn the others. Now."

I nodded, my mind racing. ThunderClan would already be simmering with doubt. If I returned reeking of RiverClan and rogue blood...

"Meet me at the half-moon," I said. "The medicine cats' gathering. We'll rally them then."

She hesitated, then dipped her head—a leader's respect. "Stay alive, Harestar."

As she vanished toward the river, I turned toward camp, my wounds throbbing. Brambleclaw's distrust, Russetstar's lies, Emberfall's piercing gaze—it all paled against the real enemy.

Ravenscar wanted war?

He'd get it.

But first, I had to make my clan believe.

SCENEBREAK

The stream's chill clung to my pelt like a second skin, water dripping from my whiskers as I limped into camp. I'd scrubbed until my tongue went numb, but the tang of rogue blood still lurked beneath the reek of wet fur. My shoulder throbbed where teeth had pierced flesh, and my hind leg burned with every step. Stars, let it be enough.

Brambleclaw intercepted me before I'd crossed the gorse tunnel. His nostrils flared, drinking in the stench of the stream, the faint undercurrent of RiverClan's fish and musk that no amount of washing could erase. His amber eyes narrowed to slits.

"What happened?" he demanded, voice low and fraying. The camp had gone still around us—apprentices halting mid-pounce, elders craning necks, Oak'song frozen at the fresh-kill pile with a vole dangling from his jaws. "Did you really slink off to meet Leopardstar? Was Russetstar... right?"

The word hung between us—right. A verdict. A condemnation.

I straightened, ignoring the stab in my leg. "I am your leader," I growled, the rumble carrying across the clearing. "You'd take ShadowClan's lies over my word?"

But Brambleclaw didn't retreat. He stepped closer, his muzzle inches from mine, breath hot with fury. "Your word?" he hissed, too quiet for the others to hear. "You reek of her. Of them. What were you doing?"

Behind him, Emberfall hovered, her gaze darting between us. Birchwhisker's tail lashed. Even Cinderwhisker, the medicine cat, paused in the mouth of her den, herbs spilling from her jaws.

They're all watching. All wondering.

I swallowed. The truth perched on my tongue—rogues, Ravenscar, blood—but if I spoke it here, now, ShadowClan's spies would carry it to Russetstar by moonrise. The rogues would know we were warned.

"Protecting this clan," I said finally, my voice cracking like thin ice.

Brambleclaw's laugh was bitter. "By sneaking? By lying?" He whirled, raising his voice to the clan. "Our leader trades secrets with RiverClan while we claw at shadows! How many more wounds will we nurse for her pride?"

Murmurs rippled. A queen pulled her kits closer. Emberfall's claws unsheathed, but whether to defend me or join the fray, I couldn't tell.

Oak'song dropped the vole. "Enough, Brambleclaw," he snapped, padding forward, his gait stiff with old battles. "My mother has led us through—"

"Stay out of this, Oak!" Brambleclaw rounded on him, spittle flying. "Your blind loyalty blinded her."

The camp erupted—yowls, hisses, claws scraping stone. I raised my voice, but the pain in my leg buckled me. I stumbled, and the world tilted.

Emberfall lunged, bracing her shoulder under mine. "Grandma—!"

"Harestar," I corrected weakly, but her warmth seeped into my sodden pelt.

Cinderwhisker shouldered through the chaos, her green gaze sharp. "She's bleeding! Move!"

As the medicine cat herded me toward her den, I caught Brambleclaw's stare—betrayal etched into every line of his face.

"You'll answer for this," he snarled.

I almost hoped I'd live long enough to.