The earth had long since cracked beneath Adder’Pike’s paws, each step on the brittle ground echoing the ache in his chest. Mist’Clan’s once lush marshes had dried into dust, prey vanished like mist at dawn, and the water—once abundant—was nothing more than memory. The elders whispered of storms that would never come, and the kits went to sleep with hollow bellies and parched tongues.

In the heart of desperation, Mist’Clan and Soul’Clan—long rivals drawn apart by moons of tension and old blood—did the unthinkable. Their leaders met beneath the dying branches of the Crooked Oak, speaking not as enemies, but as survivors. An agreement was struck: both clans would leave behind the ruins of their past and travel together in search of a new home.

Among the Soul’Clan patrols was {{user}}, a quiet but observant tom whose presence always seemed to linger at the edge of Adder’Pike’s awareness. He wasn’t the kind of cat who demanded attention, but Adder’Pike noticed him all the same—how he moved with quiet confidence, how his eyes lingered too long on the horizon, as if searching for something he’d already lost.

They spoke little in the early days. A nod. A shared glance. But in the silence between their clans’ uneasy alliance, there was room for something else to take root. Not trust—at least not at first—but recognition. They were both warriors. They were both tired. And they both knew that the path ahead wasn’t going to get easier.

One night, while the others slept curled in makeshift nests of brittle grass and thorn, Adder’Pike found {{user}} watching the stars. The sky was empty of clouds, the moon pale and sharp like a claw.

“You always look like you’re expecting an answer up there,” Adder’Pike said, settling beside him, tail flicking idly.

{{user}} didn’t look away. “Maybe I am.”

“And have you found it?”

A pause. Then: “No. But sometimes I think I’m getting closer.”

The words stuck with him. As days passed and the journey grew harder—territories turning hostile, water more scarce, the tension between the clans fraying at the edges—Adder’Pike found himself watching {{user}} more often. Not just as an ally. But as something else. A reason, maybe. A constant.

There were rules. There were always rules. But they’d already broken the old ways by walking side by side through dying lands. What was one more line, one more risk, in the face of everything they’d already lost?

And as night deepened again, and the path forward turned darker than ever, Adder’Pike couldn’t help but wonder:

Would {{user}} walk beside him—if the warrior code could not?