Chapter 2: Whitetail 

“Willowclaw,” Sunmoon continued, her tone softening, “make sure she’s healthy. Whitetail can watch her until we sort out proper arrangements.” 

The white-and-black medicine cat nodded, brushing her tail comfortingly along my side. “Come along, Amberkit. Let’s get you settled.” 

Amberkit. There it was again. My new name. 
It still felt strange, like wearing a pelt that didn’t quite fit—but somehow warmer than I expected. 

I glanced at Droppaw. He grinned despite Redfur’s lingering scowl. 

“Welcome to Sunpride,” he whispered. “Try not to trip over your paws, Amberkit.” 

I turned to follow Willowclaw, but paused, glancing back at Sunmoon. 
My throat tightened. I wanted to say something—thank you, maybe. Or I won’t let you down. 
But nothing came. The words stuck like thorns. 

Willowclaw stepped closer, her blue eyes soft and steady. 
“Sunpride doesn’t steal cubs, Ambercub. When the sun rises, I’ll go with you. We’ll find your loner place, and you can decide. No lion will force you to stay.” 

I swallowed, heart pounding. 

The thought of returning to the loner place felt… wrong. 
It was quiet there, yes. Familiar. Safe, even. But it wasn’t alive the way this place was. 
Here, every scent felt sharper. Every sound carried purpose. 
 
And Droppaw—despite his teasing and sharp tongue—had shown me a world I never imagined. 

I looked at him again. He was watching me, tail-tip flicking thoughtfully, like he was trying to guess what I’d decide. 

“…Okay,” I whispered. “Tomorrow.” 

Sunstar gave a firm nod. “Tomorrow.” 

She turned, leaping onto the smooth stone at the center of camp. Redfur followed, grumbling beneath his breath. 
Ravenscar, ever silent, melted back into the shadows like smoke. 

Willowclaw touched her tail to my back. “Come. You’ll sleep in the nursery tonight. Whitetail will make sure you’re warm.” 

 hesitated one last moment, casting a final glance at the dark savanna beyond the camp walls. 
My mother’s scent was long gone, swept away by the night breeze…or was it even before to night? I can’t remember when i last saw her 
Will I ever see her again? 

Droppaw caught my eye and gave a small, knowing smile. 
“Bet you’ll be tripping over moss balls by sunrise, Ambercub.” 

I huffed and lifted my chin. “I will not!” 

But as I turned and padded after Willowclaw, the weight of my choice settled over me like a blanket. 
 

The savanna had called me here—and now I had one paw in each world. 
Tomorrow, I’d have to choose which one held my heart. 

“Whitetail,” Willowclaw called softly as we slipped into the den. 

Four cats lay curled in nests of moss. One, a sleek black one, was nestled protectively around a tiny red-furred cub, their pelts rising and falling in sync. 
But it was the lioness near the center that caught my eye—a she-cat with short, snow-white fur, dappled by soft gray spots along her back and tail. 

The faint scent of milk and moss clung to her pelt. She lifted her head, large sky-blue eyes locking onto mine. 

She gave a soft chuff—a breathy sound, like an exhale through her nose. “Yes?” she murmured, voice low and calm, careful not to wake the others. 

Willowclaw flicked her tail toward the white she-cat. “Whitetail, this is Amberkit. She’s… staying for the night.” 
Her voice was calm, but I caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, like even she wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. 

Whitetail sat up, muscles shifting under her sleek fur. Her gaze—sharp, unreadable—rested on me as she leaned forward, nose twitching. 
She took in my scent: the tang of loner, the faint trace of Droppaw, the musk of the savanna. Her whiskers twitched. She gave a soft huff—almost like a scoff. 

“Loner,” she muttered, her eyes landing on me, nothing special just whole me. Her tail lashed once, then stilled—as if she was forcing herself to stay calm. 
“You’re bringing her here?” 

Willowclaw sighed. “Just for the night. Sunmoon’s orders.” 

The black queen cracked one eye open, her voice raspy with sleep. 
“If she’s not coughing or crawling with fleas, I don’t care where she sleeps,” she murmured, curling the red-furred cub closer with her tail. 

I shrank back, ears flattening. 
This wasn’t what I’d imagined when I dreamed of the forest. 
I’d expected adventure—not suspicious stares and cold whispers. 

Willowclaw must have noticed, because she brushed her tail comfortingly along my side. 
“Whitetail, she’s just a cub,” she said gently. “Give her a chance.” 

Whitetail’s gaze softened—just a little. With a tired sigh, she stood and padded to a nearby nest, one lined with fresh moss. 
“Fine. Here. Sleep. But if she starts yowling for the loner place in the middle of the night, you can deal with her, Willowclaw.” 

I nodded quickly and stepped into the nest. 
The moss was soft beneath my paws, though it smelled strange—earthy and wild, nothing like the warm, familiar blankets of home. 

Willowclaw gave me an encouraging look. “Rest, Ambercub. Tomorrow will bring answers.” 

She turned and padded out, her tail slipping through the entrance like a whisper. 
The den fell quiet—soft breathing, distant pawsteps, the occasional rustle of a dreaming cub. 

I curled into the moss, wrapping my tail over my nose. 
But sleep didn’t come easily. My heart ached with uncertainty. 

Would I ever really belong here? 

I tucked my paws beneath me, pressing my nose into the moss. Its scent was strange, not unpleasant—just unfamiliar. Like everything else here. 

Voices still echoed in my head: 
Loner. 
Not our responsibility. 
She’s just a kit. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to cry. Cubs didn’t cry in front of warriors. Especially not ones like Droppaw, who looked at me like I could belong—if I only proved it. 

The den was warm, despite the chill outside. The faint breathing of the other queens and cubs became a soft rhythm, steady and comforting. A tail flicked. A cub snuffled in sleep. Someone let out a tiny snore. 

I let out a long, slow breath. 

My name was Ambercub now. 

Maybe tomorrow, I’d find out what that really meant. 

Sleep crept in like mist curling over the savanna, quiet and slow. My thoughts blurred, softened. I imagined Droppaw chasing moss balls. Whitetail’s wary blue eyes watching me from the shadows. Willowclaw’s gentle touch. 

And beyond all of it, the warm sun rising over a new world I wasn’t sure I belonged to—but wanted to try. 

The last thing I felt was the moss rising and falling beneath me with each breath… and the smallest hope that maybe—just maybe—I’d made the right choice. 

I blinked. 

The nursery ceiling came into focus—low and woven with dried grass and sticks. The scent of milk, moss, and other cubs wrapped around me like a blanket. My fur was damp with sweat. 

But I was safe. 

I curled tighter into the moss, trying to slow my breathing. The lion's voice still echoed in my ears, the way he said mine like I belonged to him. Like I always would. 

But he was wrong. 

I touched my nose to my forepaw, grounding myself in the soft, earthy scent of the den. That dream-lion was just a ghost—one I didn’t have to carry anymore. 

I had a name now. Ambercub. 

And maybe I didn’t belong yet. Maybe I still smelled like twolegplace and fear. 

But I was here. 

And I’d fight for this life. Even if I had to prove myself every pawstep of the way. 

Outside, pale dawn light crept through the cracks in the den wall. Birds chirped softly. Somewhere in the camp, a lion yawned loud enough to shake dust from the roof. 

The day had begun. 

And I was ready for it. 

Pressing closer to Whitetail's side, I tucked my nose into her fur. She didn’t stir—only tightened her tail around me. I inhaled deeply. The comforting scent of milk and moss clung to her pelt. It smelled like safety. Like belonging. 

But the ache in my chest didn’t fade. 

I barely noticed my own whisper as sleep dragged me under. 

The next time I woke, golden sunlight filtered through the entrance, casting dappled patterns across the den floor. The moss beneath me was warm from my body heat, but Whitetail’s side was empty. Her scent still lingered—soft and familiar now—but the comforting weight of her tail was gone. 

I blinked sleepily, stretching until my toes splayed wide. My fur was ruffled and messy, bits of moss clinging to my chest. Sounds drifted in from outside—paws scuffing against dirt, quiet murmurs, the sharp chirp of a bird somewhere above. 

With a yawn, I stumbled to my paws and padded toward the den entrance, peeking out. 

The hollow I’d stumbled into last night looked completely different in the daylight. What had seemed shadowy and dangerous now buzzed with life. Lions moved about, sleek pelts brushing past one another as they shared tongues, carried fresh moss, or padded toward a pile of prey near the center. Sunlight poured down into the clearing, making the leaves overhead glow like greenfire. 

“Finally awake, loner?” 

I jumped, twisting around to find Whitetail watching me from her nest. Her blue eyes were cool, but not as sharp as before. She flicked an ear toward the entrance. 

“If you’re planning to sit there gawking all day, you’ll be in the way. Go on. Explore. The warriors won’t bite.” 

Her words were gruff, but the flick of her tail toward the clearing was almost… encouraging. 

I hesitated. What if they didn’t want me here? What if they laughed at my size and loner scent? 

But then Droppaw trotted past the den entrance, a vole swinging from his jaws. He caught my eye and grinned around his catch, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Gonna stand there all day, Amberkit, or are you coming?” he mumbled around the vole before disappearing toward a cluster of cats. 

Amberkit. That was my name now, wasn’t it? 

I squared my shoulders, fluffed out my fur, and stepped into the clearing. 

Droppaw padded beside me, his whiskers twitching with amusement as he caught my uncertain glance around the bustling camp. “Come on. Willowclaw said she’d take you back to the loner place today, right? She’s probably in the healer’s cave.” 

I tried not to feel disappointed. Of course I was going back. I was a loner, after all. This place—Sunpride, they called it—wasn’t really my home. 

He led me across the clearing, weaving between cats who barely spared me a glance. Some flicked their tails in annoyance at my hesitation; others eyed me curiously. My ears flattened, but Droppaw didn’t seem to notice. His steps were light, confident, like he belonged here. 

We reached the place Willowclaw had come from last night—a sheltered hollow nestled under a tangle of brambles. Ferns hung down like a curtain, the earthy scent of herbs wafting from within. 

“Willowclaw!” Droppaw called, poking his head through the entrance. 

From inside, her voice came, sharp and tired. “What do you want now, Droppaw? Did you lose another moss ball?” 

Droppaw snickered. “Nah, just wondering if you’re ready to take AMberkitback to her twolegs.” 

There was a pause, and then Willowclaw padded into view, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on me. 

“Right. The loner.” She glanced at my collar, then sighed. “I suppose it’s time.” 

My heart sank, though I didn’t understand why. I’d wanted adventure, hadn’t I? I’d seen the savanna—more than just dry dirt and rocks. I’d met real wild lions. That was enough… wasn’t it? 

“Come on, cub. Let’s get this over with,” Willowclaw muttered, flicking her tail for me to follow. 

I followed, my paws dragging over the hard-packed earth. I didn’t know why, but the warmth Willowclaw had shown yesterday was gone, replaced by cool indifference. 

Maybe she’s just trying, I thought, glancing up at her. 

She moved swiftly and silently, like a shadow slipping through sunlight. Her pure white fur—broken only by the black markings on her shoulder, back, tail, and one paw—shimmered gently under the morning sun. Every step seemed measured, precise, like she didn’t want to waste energy on something as trivial as guiding to the loner place. 

Droppaw trotted beside me, tail flicking. “Don’t take it personally. Willowclaw’s always prickly in the morning. Probably dreaming about boring old herbs again.” 

Willowclaw shot him a sharp look over her shoulder. “I heard that.” 

Droppaw just grinned. I tried to smile too, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. My heart felt heavy, like the forest itself was pressing down on me. 

The camp slipped away behind us as we walked through winding trails, past towering oaks and bramble thickets. Birdsong filled the air, but it sounded distant—like I was hearing it through water. 

I followed Willowclaw to the loner place, a bit beyond the pride border. I knew I needed to choose—but what was I really choosing? 
Freedom… or a bond to a pride? 
Or was it something deeper—something my dreams had been pushing me toward all along? 

Willowclaw stopped at the edge of a dried-up creek bed, her gaze fixed on something I couldn’t see in the distance. Her white fur stood out stark against the golden grass, but her presence felt… distant. 

“This is far enough,” she said, voice neutral. “If you keep walking east, you’ll find the old loner den under the hollow tree. It’s abandoned now. You’ll be alone, but you’ll be outside our scent line.” 

I stared at the open land ahead. The breeze ruffled my fur, carrying the scent of dust, heat… and lion. Not the familiar tang of pride lions—yet I was surprised by how comforting that scent had already become. 

Willowclaw didn’t move. She just stood there, watching me with unreadable eyes. 

My throat tightened. “So that’s it?” 

Willowclaw looked at me. “Sunmoon said you had a choice. So take it. Go back out there and stay away from pride territory… or come back with me and be a part of the pride. 
You can’t have a paw in both places. It’s either one or the other.” 

I looked down at my paws, claws flexing in the dirt.