Oneeye smiled faintly, her clouded eye drifting to some far-off memory.
"Now, it started with a foolish apprentice, a stormy night, and the scent of something far worse than fox or badger..."
"You're going to tell them about Lionstar and the dogs? That old story again?" Blackfoot muttered, flicking an ear dismissively. His green eyes glinted with dry amusement as he stretched out, his white paws crossing over each other.
Oneeye shot him a sharp look, her good eye narrowing.
"Well, yes. Got a problem with that, mouse-brain?"
Blackfoot huffed, clearly biting back a retort, while Littletail snickered into his paw.
Deafear, half-listening, muttered, "What? Who's got a problem?"
I couldn't help but chuckle, the warmth of the den wrapping around me like a soft moss nest. It wasn't just the story itself that made this moment special—it was the way the elders bickered like old friends, their words sharp but their eyes soft with familiarity.
Foxkit leaned closer to me, his green eyes sparkling.
"They always argue like this," he whispered, barely hiding his grin. "But Oneeye always wins."
"Of course I always win," Oneeye rasped, ears flicking as if she'd heard him perfectly despite the soft whisper.
"Now, unless any other flea-brained elder wants to interrupt me"—she cast a pointed glance at Blackfoot, who grunted but said nothing—
"I'll start."
Foxkit bounced on his paws, tail swinging behind him like a branch in the wind.
"Yes! Start! Lionstar was, like, seven generations before Blackfoot, right? And he was amazing! He saved all four prides!" His green eyes shone with excitement, and Littletail chuckled softly at the kit's enthusiasm.
"Hoo, how was it now… ah! Yes," Oneeye meowed, her single sharp eye glinting with the thrill of storytelling.
"Back then, Lionstar was called Lionheart. He was Sunpride's deputy—brave, strong, and smart as a fox. But trouble was brewing. Dogs had invaded Sunpride territory—not just one stray, not even two, but a whole pack of bloodthirsty beasts. Their howls filled the forest like a terrible storm, and the ground trembled under their heavy paws.
"Moonpride had warned Rosestar, Sunpride's leader at the time, but she was already drowning in her own doubts. It was Longtail, of all cats, who uncovered the truth—those dogs weren't just passing through. They were hunting. A young apprentice, Swiftpaw, had already died in their jaws, and Brightpaw was left scarred, barely clinging to life."
Foxkit's eyes widened, and even Deafear flicked an ear, listening despite pretending not to. Oneeye leaned in, voice dropping to a hushed rasp.
"'Lionheart knew the pride couldn't stand against the pack in battle. So, he crafted a plan as daring as it was dangerous. The warriors laid a trail of fresh-kill—rabbit after rabbit—leading the dogs straight to the gorge that marked the edge of Waterpride territory. If they could lure the pack there, they'd have a chance to end the threat for good.
"The plan worked—at first. The dogs, wild with hunger and bloodlust, followed the trail, their eyes burning like yellow moons. Lionheart raced ahead, heart pounding like a war drum, leading them to the cliff's edge. But just as victory seemed certain, the pack leader—a massive, scarred brute of a dog, its jaws stained red—broke from the pack and charged straight for him."
Foxkit gasped, his fur fluffing out in alarm.
"What happened? What happened?!"
Oneeye smiled, the scarred side of her face softening.
"The pack leader caught Lionheart by the scruff. Shook him like a leaf in a storm. It would've ended there if not for Rosestar. In that moment, she forgot her doubts, her fears—everything. She threw herself at the dog, slamming into it with the strength of Moonpride itself."
Her voice dipped lower, almost a whisper.
"Wham! The dog stumbled, releasing Lionheart. But before it could fall, its jaws snapped shut around Rosestar's hind leg. And down they went—dog and leader, tumbling together over the edge of the gorge."
Silence fell, broken only by the distant chirp of birds outside the elders' den. Even Littletail had stopped mumbling insults to Deafear, his eyes shadowed by memories of long-past battles.
"But Rosestar didn't fall for nothing," Oneeye finished softly. "The pack was broken. Lionheart climbed down the gorge, risking his own life to reach her. She died there, her last breath spent telling Lionheart the truth he'd always known—he was destined to lead Sunpride. From that day on, he was Lionstar."
Foxkit blinked, awe-struck.
"She sacrificed herself… for her pride."
"That's what true leaders do," Oneeye murmured, curling her tail around her paws.
"And that's why her story still matters, even moons later."
"About to fill the young ones' heads with fairy tales?" a smooth, amused voice purred from behind.
Both Foxcub and I jumped, our fur fluffing in surprise. I spun around to see a tall, golden-brown she-cat standing at the entrance to the elder's den, sunlight catching the faint tabby stripes along her back. Her pale green eyes shimmered with quiet authority—Sunmoon.
"Ah! Sunmoon, you know the story is real," Deafear grumbled, flicking her tail dismissively.
"Sunmoon," Droppaw greeted with a respectful dip of his head, rising to his paws. "I need to go. I have tasks to see to." He glanced down at me, his gaze softening. "Can you manage here, Ambercub?"
Before I could answer, Littletail snorted, his stubby tail giving an impatient flick. "Yeah, she'll do fine. Now get out of here before your fur turns gray like mine."
"Yeah, we're not going to bite her," Oneeye added, her voice dry with humor as she kneaded her nest.
Droppaw's whiskers twitched with amusement. "Alright, alright. Don't let them fill your head with too many 'fairy tales,' Ambercub."
With a final glance back, he padded out, his gray-striped tail flicking behind him. Sunstar watched him go, then turned her gaze to us.
"So," she meowed, stepping fully into the den, her shadow stretching across the mossy floor, "where were you in this 'real story'? Let me guess—Lionheart had just gotten his ears chewed off by Rosestar for breathing too loudly?"
Foxcub's eyes widened, horrified at the disrespect. "No! It was when Rosestar knocked the pack leader into the gorge!"
"Close enough," Oneeye muttered, her one good eye gleaming with amusement.
"Sit down, sit down," Deafear sighed, waving her tail like she was brushing away flies. "If you're going to interrupt, Sunstar, you might as well listen properly."
With an exaggerated sigh, Sunstar lowered herself onto a patch of moss near the entrance, her ears flicking forward in interest. Foxkit practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his paws. I crept closer to Oneeye, the warmth of her fur comforting against my side.
"Well?" Littletail grunted, his amber eyes narrowing at Deafear. "Don't keep us waiting. Are you telling it, or just flapping your jaws like a startled jay?"
"Mousebrain," Deafear muttered under her breath. Then, louder, she continued, her voice slipping into the rhythmic cadence of a practiced storyteller:
"Lionheart was battered and bleeding, his fur hanging in ragged tufts. The pack leader's jaws had shaken him like a rabbit, and it would've been the end of him if Rosestar hadn't come crashing through the brambles like Moonpride itself had sent her. She didn't hesitate—not for a heartbeat. She slammed into the dog, knocking it off its paws, but as it tumbled toward the gorge, it snapped its jaws around her leg and dragged her with it."
I held my breath, imagining the roaring river below, cold and unforgiving.
Foxkit's ears flattened. "But Lionstar saved her, right?"
Deafear fell silent for a moment, her orange eyes dimming with memory. Even Littletail, usually brimming with sarcastic remarks, stayed quiet.
"Lionstar tried," Oneeye murmured, her voice softer, sadder. "He scrambled after her, claws tearing at the earth, but he was too late. The water took them both."
"But Rosestar survived," Sunmoon added, her tone thoughtful. "Barely. Lionstar dragged her out, but Moonpride was already calling her. She gave her last breath to make peace with her past—and to remind Lionstar of his destiny: to lead Sunpride into a new era."
Silence settled over the den, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves outside.
Foxcub's tail drooped. "That's not fair. She was a hero. She should've lived."
"Heroes don't always get to choose their endings," Littletail said quietly, his gaze far away, as if remembering something long past.
Sunmoon stretched, her muscles rippling beneath her sleek pelt. "True. But their stories live on, don't they? Told by elders who pretend they're not soft-hearted, and by kits who hang on every word."
Foxkit puffed out his chest, determination sparking in his green eyes. "When I'm a warrior, I'll fight dogs and save the whole pride—just like Lionstar did!"
Littletail snorted. "You'll be lucky if you can save your own tail from getting stuck in brambles."
Laughter rippled through the den, breaking the heavy mood. I smiled, curling deeper into the moss beside Oneeye. Maybe Droppaw was right—these weren't just fairy tales. They were threads in the great web of Sunpride history, and now, I was part of it too.
Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting golden rays through the den entrance. The elders' voices faded into soft murmurs, and for the first time since leaving the nursery, I felt truly at home.
Sunmoon flicked her tail, a spark of amusement in her gaze. "Well, I actually came to look for you, Ambercub. Think you can spare some time for me?"
She didn't wait for an answer—just turned and padded out of the elders' den, her golden fur catching the sunlight like flames flickering through the trees.
I scrambled after her, nearly tripping over Foxcub's tail as I went. Up close, her pelt was even more striking: long and soft, flowing behind her like water in a sunlit stream. Her bright amber eyes shone with quiet wisdom, but it was the silver scar along her cheek that caught my attention—a stark reminder of battles fought for her pride.
I couldn't stop staring. What had caused it? A fox? A rogue? Another lion? My paws moved on their own as my mind whirled, until my toe caught on a rock.
"Mousebrain!" I hissed under my breath, stumbling but managing to stay upright.
Sunmoon glanced back, whiskers twitching in silent amusement, but said nothing. She led me past the bustling camp—warriors sharing prey, apprentices swapping playful swipes—until we reached the base of a tree. There, tucked into the bottom like a secret, was a small, rounded hole barely big enough for a full-grown lion to squeeze through.
"This is my den," Sunmoon explained, stepping inside without hesitation.
I hesitated, glancing up at the towering Highrock. I'd always imagined leaders slept somewhere grand and open, not hidden away like a rabbit in its burrow. Curiosity prickling through me, I ducked after her.
The cave was surprisingly warm, lit by thin beams of sunlight filtering through cracks in the stone. A soft nest of moss and feathers sat neatly in the corner, smelling faintly of herbs and pine. The ground beneath my paws was cool, hard-packed sand.
Sunmoon settled into her nest with the graceful ease of a lion who'd done it a thousand times. Her sharp gaze softened as she studied me.
"So," she began, tail curling neatly around her paws. "How do you like pride life? Still think you want to stay?"
The question hit me like a thorn in the paw. I blinked, caught off guard.
"Of course I want to stay!" I blurted, springing to my paws. My tail shot straight into the air, fur fluffing to twice its size. "Why wouldn't I want to be here?"
Sunmoon looked at me calmly, her amber eyes steady. "Because pride life isn't easy," she said, her voice low and firm. "There won't always be enough food to fill your belly or warmth to chase away the cold. Comfort isn't guaranteed here, Ambercub."
Her words hung in the air, sharp as thorns. It almost sounded like she was waiting for me to change my mind—to say I wanted to go back to the loner lands.
Well, too bad for her. I wasn't going back.
I lifted my chin, ears flattening with determination. "I made my choice to stay here. I never had warmth or a full meal before. I'm used to the harsh heat of the Svananan. I'm not a loner. Not anymore. I'm a Sunpride lion—my name is Ambercub, not some loner name!"
For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, Sunmoon… purred?
I blinked. Had I said something funny?
"Yes, you are," she murmured, swiping a quick lick over her chest fur before meeting my gaze again. Her expression softened, but her voice carried a quiet warning. "And you'd better remember that when others question you."
Before I could respond, a sharp yowl pierced the air outside. Both our heads snapped toward the entrance.
"Sunmoon!"
A broad tom thrust his head through the curtain of trailing ivy that framed the den. His long, thick golden fur, reminiscent of a lion's mane, bristled along his spine. His green eyes were wide with alarm.
"Fernface spotted rogues near the border—closer than they should be."
Sunstar was already on her paws, tail lashing. "How many?"
"Three. No sign of a camp, but they've been marking trees. Like they're testing us."
I looked from one cat to the other, my fur prickling. "Rogues?" I echoed, confused. I'd never heard of rogues… though, to be fair, I'd only been in the pride for half a day.
The golden tom glanced at me, his gaze softening slightly despite the tension in his shoulders. "Loners without honor. Lions who take what they want without respecting borders or the code."
Sunstar flicked her tail toward the den's entrance. "Stay here, Ambercub. This isn't something a cub needs to see."
Her words stung. Cub. Like I was helpless. Like I didn't belong.
But as the two warriors swept out of the den, I stayed frozen in place, heart pounding. Maybe I didn't belong here—not yet. But I would. I would. I'd prove it.
And part of me wondered, as I stared at the swaying ivy behind them, just how dangerous rogues could really be.
Whitetail padded into the den, her pale fur catching the soft light that filtered through the ivy. "Ambercub," she meowed warmly, bending down to lick the top of my head.
She actually treats me like her cub, I thought, warmth spreading through my chest. I couldn't help but purr, leaning into her touch.
With a gentle nudge of her nose, she guided me toward the entrance. "Come on, little one. Sunmoon has enough on her mind without you underpaw."
I stumbled forward, casting one last glance at the empty nest where Sunstar had been just moments ago. Then, quietly, I followed Whitetail back to the nursery.
Inside, the air was warmer, scented with milk and moss. The black lioness was already settled in her nest, her tail flicking lazily behind her as Foxcub pounced on it with fierce determination.
"Got you!" Foxcub squeaked, batting at the flicking tail tip.
The she-cat sighed, clearly long past the point of scolding, and rested her head on her paws.
Whitetail chuckled softly beside me. "You'd think he was training to fight rogues already."
I blinked, still thinking about Sunstar's sharp gaze and the tension outside. Rogues. The word felt heavier now. More real.
But for the moment, nestled beside Whitetail, it was easy to pretend the world beyond the nursery didn't exist.
Foxcub's green eyes locked onto me, bright with excitement. He paused mid-swipe at his mother's tail, ears twitching. "Ambercub, wanna play?"
Before I could answer, he batted my side with a soft paw. "Got you!" he squeaked, then whirled and darted away, his fluffy red tail streaming behind him like fire.
"Hey!" I yelped, leaping to my paws. Without thinking, I sprang after him, my tiny claws scrabbling on the mossy floor.
Laughter bubbled up in my throat as we tore around the nursery, weaving between nests and ducking under the watchful gazes of the older lionesses.
"Watch it, you two!" Whitetail called, lifting her head just as I skidded past her.
Foxcub crouched behind his mother, eyes glinting with mischief. "Can't catch me, loner!" he teased.
The word stung. Even with the playful glint in his eyes, it hit something raw. My fur bristled—not with anger, but with resolve.
"I'm not a loner!" I growled, crouching low, legs tensed beneath me.
With a yowl, I launched forward, sending us both tumbling into a warm, tangled heap of moss and fur.
Foxcub squealed with laughter as we tumbled, moss flying in every direction. I pinned him for half a heartbeat before he wriggled free, bolting behind the nest again. We collapsed in a heap, panting and giggling, tails twitching with leftover energy.
The nursery quieted again, save for the soft suckling of younger cubs and the rhythmic purr of the black lioness. Whitetail gave me a gentle look as I padded back to her side, still catching my breath.
"You've got spirit," she murmured, curling her tail around me. "Just… don't let words stick too deep, little one. Foxcub didn't mean it."
I didn't answer. I just nodded, curling beside her and resting my chin on my paws.
But the word still echoed in my ears.
Loner.
I wasn't one. Not anymore. And I'd prove it—no matter what it took.
That night, the camp was quieter than usual.
The moon hung low in the sky, a silver claw slicing through clouds. Most of the pride slept, stretched out beneath the stars or nestled in dens. But I couldn't sleep.
I kept thinking about the rogues. About Sunmoon's warning. About how she'd told me to stay behind—like I was too young, too soft. I padded to the nursery entrance and peeked out.
The clearing was bathed in pale moonlight. A single sentry—Shorttail, I thought—sat on a low rock near the edge of the camp, eyes half-closed, ears flicking. He wouldn't see me if I moved quietly.
I hesitated, my heart hammering.
This was foolish.
This was dangerous.
But the fire inside me wouldn't die down.
If I find something—if I help—maybe they'll stop seeing me as a cub. Maybe they'll stop calling me loner.
I slipped out into the night.
The forest was colder than I expected, and every snap of twig or rustle of leaves made my fur stand on end. But I kept going, my paws light and silent. I knew the border was this way—Sunmoon had said the rogues had been near the western edge.
I could almost hear her voice: "Stay here, Ambercub. This isn't something a cub needs to see.
I look around at the other queens. When I noticed something unsettling: Whitetail's ear was pricked and twitching more than usual—and it wasn't just her. Four of the adult cats were on high alert, their ears flicking and eyes narrowed in silent alarm.
I wanted to ask why, but a part of me whispered that some questions were best left unasked. Before I could form the words, Foxcub, ever impulsive, bounded over and blurted, "Why are you so on guard?"
I glanced up at him, then at Whitetail. She was already opening her mouth, her tone low and grave.
"Because," she began slowly, "a big part of our warriors left camp to track down rogues—lions that dare trespass on our territory. Their absence leaves us more vulnerable to attack."
Before I could process her words, a sleek, confident voice cut through the tension. "Don't worry—no one's going to attack Sunpride," said Mouseheart. I recalled how she always carried herself: a striking tortoiseshell with short fur in a vibrant mix of black, orange, and cream, and vivid green eyes that missed nothing. She was expecting cubs, and her tone was gentle yet firm.
Time passed, and soon Foxcub and I found ourselves playing with a mossball near the nursery, our laughter echoing softly among the nesting sites. But the playful moment was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps. Foxcub and I exchanged startled looks, and we both bolted out of the queen's den. Whitetail and the others followed more slowly, their expressions dark with worry.