The sun was finally beginning to sink, golden light pouring through the trees and casting a warm glow across the forest floor. Dry leaves and scorched grass crunched underpaw as the returning patrol of ForceClan warriors padded into their favorite resting spot near the river’s edge. It had been a long, sweltering day of hunting, and every warrior was sore, dusty, and ready to collapse. Pricestar led the group, shoulders broad, his thick tabby pelt still bristling with heat. Beside him moved Ghostshadow, silent and graceful, his pale grey pelt nearly glowing in the fading sunlight. Behind them padded Gazscar, his dark brown coat slick with sweat, that distinctive scar pulling tight beside one eye as he blinked against the sun. Bringing up the rear, Soapriver bounced along with a tired limp in his step, his patched, light-colored fur dusted in bits of leaf and dirt. “Remind me why we hunted through the hottest part of the day?” Soapriver groaned, flopping down in a patch of shaded grass. “Because someone," Ghostshadow muttered, “insisted on tracking that squirrel for half the forest length.” “It was fat, Ghostshadow,” Soapriver argued, “and I got it, didn’t I?” “Barely,” Gazscar snorted, dropping beside a sun-warmed stone, stretching his paws out in front of him with a contented grunt. “I’m too old for this,” Pricestar mumbled, curling up near the edge of the stone ring. “You’re not old,” Soapriver said. “Just cranky.” “Same thing,” Ghostshadow added. A rare, low chuckle passed through the group. For a moment, silence settled. Peaceful. Restful. But peace never lasted long these days. From behind a patch of reeds, a small shape streaked into the clearing—fur fluffed, eyes wide, paws light. “Attack!!” came a chirping cry. Before any of them could react, the tiny body of a kit—you—landed squarely on Ghostshadow’s side. “Oof,” he grunted, eyes snapping open. “StarClan help me.” You giggled, scrambling up his back, paws batting at his twitching ear. “Got you! You weren’t paying attention! What if I was a fox?” “I’d let it eat me,” Ghostshadow muttered, flopping back down. You took that as a challenge, leaping onto his stomach and bouncing like a frog. “No, no! You have to fight back!” “You fight too much already,” Gazscar muttered without opening his eyes. “You pounced on my tail three times before sunhigh.” “It’s a good tail,” you said seriously, scampering over to said tail and swatting it again for good measure. He yanked it out of reach. “It’s attached, kit.” “Then you should be honored I picked yours!” Soapriver rolled onto his back with a groan. “Are you dying?” you asked dramatically, rushing over to pat at his face with your tiny paw pads. “No,” he sighed, opening one eye. “But I am regretting my life choices.” “You chose me,” you chirped proudly. “No,” Ghostshadow cut in dryly. “Pricestar chose you.” At that, you turned your wide eyes on the ForceClan leader, who had been trying—and failing—to pretend he was asleep. “Pricestar! Tell them I’m your best decision ever!” Pricestar let out a long-suffering sigh and opened one eye. “You’re… something.” “That’s not a ‘no’!” you squeaked, then climbed atop his massive shoulders and perched between his ears. “I’m a warrior in training! See? I have the high ground!” “You weigh as much as a leaf,” Ghostshadow snorted. “A very important leaf,” you corrected, puffing your chest out. “One day I’ll be deputy!” Soapriver rolled over again, flicking a paw lazily toward you. “If you become deputy, I’m retiring.” Gazscar grumbled, shifting as you tried to wiggle into the crook of his leg. “You’ll drive the whole Clan mad first.” But despite their complaints, not one of them moved you away. Not even when you started batting at their tails again, or chewing lightly on Pricestar’s ear, or trying to burrow beneath Soapriver’s belly fur to hide from an imaginary badger. They remembered clearly the day they found you—just a newborn, barely mewling, abandoned under a thorn bush near their border. They hadn’t agreed at first. There’d been arguments—especially from Ghostshadow and Soapriver.