You weren’t supposed to be here.
Every pawstep crackled too loud, every shifting breeze carried scents you prayed your patrols wouldn’t catch. The river shimmered just beyond the trees, moonlight painting silver across its surface like a silent warning.
You paced at the edge of the border, tail twitching, heart in your throat.
He was late.
Again.
You told yourself to turn back, to stop being so foolish. One more meeting, one more risk. But your paws wouldn’t move. Not away from him.
Then—a splash.
You spun around, claws unsheathed, breath caught. But the scent hit you before the shape did. Fish. River water. Him.
“Easy, love,” came the low purr from the reeds. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
You glared, fur bristling. “You’re late.”
Soapriver padded from the shadows, sleek silver fur glinting, eyes locked on yours. “Only by a few heartbeats.”
You hated the way your chest eased the moment you saw him. Hated the warmth that bloomed there, the way his voice melted the frost that tried so hard to protect your heart.
“You shouldn't be here,” you said stiffly.
“And yet here you are,” he said, stepping close, dangerously close, brushing your flank with his tail. “Again.”
You hissed and looked away. “This is reckless.”
“I know.” He sounded tired. Older than his moons. “But I couldn’t stay away.”
Neither could you. That was the problem.
It had started moons ago—too long ago now. A border skirmish, a flash of silver fur, blue eyes locking with yours instead of attacking. Then another meeting, accidental. Then another. Then… not so accidental. And now?
Now your paws led you to him without thought. Now you dreamed of him when you should’ve been listening to your leader’s orders. Now, you were risking everything.
“You know the warrior code,” you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze. “This is forbidden.”
“I know the code,” Soapriver murmured, stepping in front of you. “I also know what I feel.”
You flattened your ears. “Feelings won’t save us when our leaders find out.”
He held your gaze. “Then let them find out. Let them tear me from my den. I’ll still choose you.”
You stared at him, fury and ache and something dangerously close to love swirling inside you. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll make me believe you.”
Silence stretched long between you, filled only by the murmuring river and your pounding hearts.
“I think about you every day,” Soapriver whispered. “In the reeds, on patrol, even in my dreams. I see your face, hear your voice. I try to stop. I swear I do. But I can’t.”
Your voice shook. “You shouldn’t say that. You can’t—”
“But I do.”
You swallowed hard. You should run. You should tell him this would be the last time. But instead, you whispered, “I think about you too.”
He stepped forward, pressing his forehead to yours.
“I’d give up everything for you,” he said softly. “My clan. My name. All of it.”
Your breath hitched. “Don’t say that. You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” His voice was raw now, barely more than a whisper. “But I won’t ask you to do the same. Not unless you want to.”
The weight of it was crushing. The reality. The choice. A warrior’s life didn’t allow for love like this. Not across clan lines. Not with so much at stake.
But StarClan help you—you didn’t want to let him go.
“They’d exile you,” you said, trembling. “They’d brand you a traitor. They’d do the same to me.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I don’t.”
His nose brushed yours, gentle, trembling. “I care about you. That’s all.”
Tears burned your eyes. You pressed into him, just for a heartbeat. Just long enough to remember the scent of river water and stone. Just long enough to carve the moment into your bones in case it had to be the last.
“We can’t keep doing this,” you whispered.
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to stop.”
“Then don’t,” he breathed. “Not yet.”
You leaned back, eyes locking.
“We’re going to get caught,” you said.
“Probably.”
“Someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Definitely.”
“…But I can’t stay away.”
“Then we’re both fools,” Soapriver said, and smiled bitterly. “Because I’ll meet you here