Ravenscar leaned down until his scarred muzzle was level with mine. I could smell the bitter tang of herbs and old blood on his breath. 

“What’s your name, loner cub?” 

I swallowed hard, my tail curling tight around my paws. “W-Whisper.” 

His eyes narrowed. “Not anymore, it’s not.” 

My head spun. Ravenscar. Moonpride.Sunpride. The names swirled like leaves in a storm—strange, wild, too big to grasp. 

Then another voice sliced through the darkness, calm and commanding, like claws through ivy. 

“Taking a cub so deep into sunpride territory, Droppaw? You shouldn’t have been near the loner places to begin with.” 

The undergrowth rustled behind Ravenscar, and from the shadows stepped a magnificent she-cat. 

Her long golden coat gleamed like moonlight trapped in honey, flowing behind her like soft fire. Each step was graceful, deliberate—more like a queen gliding through her court than a warrior patrolling the savanna. But it was her eyes that stole my breath. Amber, bright and sharp as flint. Eyes that had seen battle. Eyes that could see straight through you. 

A faint scar curved along her cheek, barely visible, but it said enough: beauty did not mean softness. 

Ravenscar, the giant who had made my heart thunder moments ago, dipped his head without hesitation. “Sunmoon.” His voice lost its edge. Not fear—something closer to reverence. 

Droppaw’s tail flicked nervously. “H-How did you know?” he blurted, green eyes wide. 

Sunmoon’s gaze slid to him, unreadable. “You reek of prideless,” she said coolly. “I smelled it the moment I left camp.” Her whiskers twitched, somewhere between amusement and scolding. “You might as well have rolled in their nests.” 

Droppaw opened his mouth to argue—then thought better of it. His ears flattened. 

Then her gaze turned to me. 

“And you,” Sunmoon murmured, stepping closer. Her eyes swept over my snow-white fur, lingering on the glint of pink plastic around my neck. “What made you leave your warm nest and full belly to stumble into Pride territory?” 

I swallowed. The night air had grown colder. 

“I… I just wanted to see...” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” 

Sunstar didn’t speak for a moment. She only studied me, like she was peeling back my fur to see the heart beating beneath. Finally, she sighed. 

“No lion means to cause trouble,” she said quietly. “But trouble finds us all, in the end.” 

She glanced at Ravenscar, her expression unreadable. “Take them both to camp. I’ll decide what to do once I’ve spoken with Redfur.” 

My heart sank. Camp? This was worse than I imagined. I glanced at Droppaw, whose shoulders had slumped in defeat. 

Ravenscar flicked his tail, his cold glare snapping back into place. “Move. Now.” 

We walked in tense silence, Droppaw padding close beside me. His lean flank brushed my left side with every step. Sunmoon led the way, her golden fur glowing faintly in the moonlight, while Ravenscar’s hulking form loomed behind us, his amber-brown eyes burning into my back. I didn’t dare look at him. 

Droppaw leaned in, voice barely more than a whisper. “Ravenscar’s my mentor. He’s training me to become a warrior. And Sunmoon… she’s my pride leader—” 

I cut him off with a wide, uncontrollable yawn. My legs ached with every step, and my fur clung to me in messy tufts from pushing through the underbrush. How far is this camp, anyway? The excitement of the forest had worn off, replaced by exhaustion and the sting of thorns pricking at my pads. 

Droppaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Tired already?” he teased, though his eyes flicked nervously to Sunstar’s swaying tail. He dropped his voice lower. “You’re lucky she found us instead of Redfur. He’s the deputy—and my dad. He wouldn’t have been so—” 

“Quiet,” Ravenscar growled behind us, his voice sharp as claws. “You’ll have plenty of time to gossip once Sunmoon decides what to do with your little loner friend.” 

I bristled. Loner. He spat the word like it was something filthy. I opened my mouth to snap back, but Droppaw gave me a quick, warning nudge. I swallowed my pride and lowered my head. Just get through this. 

The forest, so magical and full of promise when I’d first stepped into it, now felt cold and endless. The towering trees closed in, their bare branches reaching like claws into the sky. The ground sloped downward, and I stumbled, barely catching myself. 

Sunmoon glanced over her shoulder, her gaze softening ever so slightly when she saw me falter. “We’re almost there,” she said gently. “Keep up.” 

There? I wanted to ask, but before the word left my mouth, the trees thinned, and the ground leveled into a wide, moonlit clearing. 

At the center of it, nestled between bramble walls and fallen logs, was the heart of Sun Pride’s camp. 

It sat in a shallow hollow, like a giant paw print pressed into the earth. Stones jutted from the slope in a jagged path, and thick, thorny bushes ringed the edges like protective walls. The air was rich with the mingling scents of lions—more lions than I’d ever imagined in one place. 

Sunmoon and Droppaw leapt down without hesitation, their movements fluid and sure. Droppaw didn’t even glance back as he sprang from stone to stone, his lean body moving with perfect balance. Even Sunmoon, with her thick golden fur, moved like the drop was nothing more than a lazy stretch. 

I stood frozen at the top, my tail lashing nervously. The stones were uneven, slick with dew, and the hollow below seemed much farther down than I liked. Could I even make that jump? My heart pounded. One slip, and I’d tumble headfirst into those thorn bushes. 

I hesitated, muscles coiled, ready to leap—but before I could push off, something clamped around the loose skin at the back of my neck. 

“Youngs,” Ravenscar growled around his grip, voice rumbling deep in his chest. 

My paws flailed as he lifted me like I was nothing more than a helpless cub. The world blurred. My stomach flipped as he sprang down the rocks in two easy bounds. The moment his paws hit solid ground, he dropped me without care. I hit the earth with an awkward thud, legs buckling beneath me. 

“Hey!” I yelped, scrambling upright, my fur bristling. 

Ravenscar just snorted, his scarred face twisted in disdain. “Too soft to jump, too loud to hunt,” he muttered, flicking his tail toward the heart of camp. “Move, loner-cub, before someone mistakes you for prey.” 

Droppaw, already waiting near a fallen log, shot me an apologetic look but didn’t dare speak. Sunmoon padded ahead, her golden pelt glowing in the moonlight, and her amber gaze flicked toward me, cool and assessing. 

I swallowed my pride and trudged after them, my tail dragging behind me. The warmth of the forest felt like a distant dream now, replaced by the cold, watchful eyes of Sunpride. 

Sunmoon slipped through the thorny entrance like water flowing around stone. Droppaw padded after her, his tail flicking lightly against my shoulder—as if to say, Come on. I followed, ears flat, steps heavy. 

My legs ached from the long walk, and my heart pounded beneath my ribs. The forest no longer felt like an adventure. It loomed around me now, dark and unfamiliar. 

We stepped into a wide hollow surrounded by thick brambles. lion scent hit my nose—strong, layered, and sharp, like the forest itself was breathing. Shadows shifted within the clearing. Sleek shapes. Glowing eyes. 

My fur bristled. 

“Sunpride camp,” Droppaw murmured beside me, pride lacing his voice. 

Sunmoon leapt onto a flat, sun-warmed rock at the center of camp. “Ravenscar,” she called, her voice calm but firm, “wake Redfur and Willowclaw. They need to see this cub.” 

Ravenscar grunted and slipped into a den nestled between two fallen logs, his shadow vanishing between the trunks. 

The first to emerge was ,a lioness—whose pure white coat shimmered under the moonlight, broken only by a striking black mark that draped across her left shoulder, back, and one paw like an inky shadow. 

Her fur was sleek and soft, every movement silent and sure, and her eyes—deep, clear blue—reflected a quiet wisdom. She stepped out from behind a curtain of ferns that hung like mossy veils over a rocky den. 

She didn’t speak at first, only studied me with a steady gaze. Not harsh, but piercing, like she was seeing past the burrs in my fur and the forest dust on my paws, straight into the heart of who I was. 

The next to arrive was a striking tom with short, fiery red fur that glowed like embers beneath the moonlight. His sleek coat looked easy to maintain, but there was strength beneath the surface—he moved with a quiet, practiced grace, like a flame waiting to flare. A small, triangular scar cut across one shoulder, and his vivid green eyes gleamed with suspicion. 

“A loner-cub?” he said, voice caught between disgust and curiosity. Ravenscar padded behind him in silence. 

I shrank back as the two cats approached. The white she-cat’s blue eyes softened when they met mine, but the red tom’s gaze narrowed. His sharp green eyes flicked over my soft, unscarred pelt… and the pink collar still fastened around my neck. 

“A loner?” the tom muttered, tail lashing. “Droppaw, you dragged a loner-cub into Sunpride territory?” 

Droppaw bristled, taking a step forward. “She’s just a kit, Redfur. Lost and alone. What was I supposed to do? Leave her for a wild dog to find?” 

Redfur snorted but said nothing, though his eyes lingered on my trembling legs. I stood frozen, unsure if I should speak, run, or sink into the earth like a frightened mouse. My fur itched under the weight of their stares. 

The white she-cat stepped forward, her scent cool and calming—like crushed mint and fern leaves. “Easy, Redfur,” she murmured. “Look at her—she’s barely four moons old. What harm can she do?” 

She bent low, her nose brushing gently against my ear. “I’m Willowclaw,” she said softly, “the Pride’s medicine cat. Are you hurt, little one?” 

I blinked up at her, not knowing what to say. My paw still ached from the mouse bite, but everything felt too big, too loud, too strange to find the words. 

Sunmoon, still perched on the smooth rock above, flicked her tail. “Enough,” she said, her voice cutting through the clearing like wind through grass. “She’s here now, and Moonpride will decide her path.” 

Her golden eyes found me again—measured, unreadable. 

“What’s your name, loner-cub?” 

“W-Whisper,” I stammered, voice barely a breath. 

The name felt strange now, surrounded by these wild cats and their sharp eyes. Like it belonged to someone else. 

Sunmoon’s ears twitched. She glanced at Willowclaw, and the medicine cat gave a subtle nod, as if they’d already reached the same quiet conclusion. 

“Not anymore,” Sunmoon said firmly. “You’ve stepped beyond the safety of walls and into the wild’s heart. If you are to stay, you need a name fit for the life you’ve chosen.” 
Her tail swayed once. 
“Amberkit.” 

My breath caught. 

Amberkit? 

The name rolled through my mind like a pebble down a hill—unfamiliar, but steady. I looked down at my white fur, glowing pale in the moonlight. 

Amberkit. 
It felt... right. 

Redfur huffed. “You’re really keeping her?” 

Sunmoon’s gaze hardened. “Sunpride does not turn away kits in need. Amberkit will stay. Willowclaw, make sure she’s healthy. Whitetail can foster her until she finds her paws.” 

I barely heard the rest. 

Amberkit. Not Whisper. Not the loner who lounged on sun-warmed stone and chased dust motes across dry earth. I was something new now, standing at the edge of a life I couldn’t quite imagine—but already wanted to grasp. 

Droppaw brushed past me, his green eyes glinting with quiet triumph. “See?” he whispered. “Told you. You’re more than just some loner-cub.” 

For the first time since I’d left the warmth of my old home, I believed him. 

He dipped his head again, murmuring close to my ear, “That’s Redfur. He’s the deputy.” 

I looked up at the red tom. His eyes had moved from me to Sunstar, tail lashing behind him with a mix of confusion and fury. 

“Now, come down, Sunmoon,” Redfur growled. “Are you really taking in a loner? What do you think the Pride will say—or the other pride? Why don’t we think about this a bit more?” 

Ravenscar, silent until now, nodded in agreement. “Can’t we just send her back to her loner den?” His ears flattened as he added, “I’m pretty sure she isn’t in need of anything.” 

Sunmoon’s amber gaze snapped to him, sharp as claws pressing into moss. “And what if she can’t find her way back? Or if a hyena finds her first? Would you really send a kit to her death, Ravenscar?” 

Ravenscar flinched but didn’t back down. “She’s not our responsibility.” 

“She is now,” Sunmoon said, her voice cold as a leaf-bare wind. “Sunpride does not turn its back on those in need—no matter their origins.” 

Redfur stepped forward, his green eyes blazing. “The Pride is already struggling! Prey is scarce, and leaf-bare’s grip hasn’t loosened. Another mouth to feed—especially one that doesn’t know how to hunt—puts us all at risk.” 

A soft cough cut through the thick tension. 

Willowclaw padded between Redfur and Sunmoon, her voice calm but firm. “She’s a cub, Redfur. She’ll eat what the others eat—hardly enough to starve the Pride.” She turned to me, her eyes kind and clear. “And she’s young enough to learn our ways, if given the chance.” 

Droppaw leaned close again, his breath warm against my ear. “She’s right, you know. You’re not helpless.” 

I stood there, heart pounding. Everything in me wanted to speak up, to shout I can learn! I’m not just a loner! 
But the words caught in my throat, sharp as thorns. 

Sunmoon’s tail lashed, silencing further argument. 

“Enough,” she said, final and fierce. “I’ve made my decision. Amberkit stays.” 

She locked eyes with Redfur, daring him to challenge her again. 

After a long moment, the red tom flicked his ear in reluctant acceptance. 

“Fine,” he muttered. “But don’t expect the Pride to welcome her with open paws. Loner blood stains deeper than mud.” 

Ravenscar grunted in agreement, his amber-brown eyes flicking to me with cold dismissal. My fur prickled under his gaze.