The morning had begun with quiet promise — dew clinging to the ferns, the air sharp with the scent of newleaf. But by sunhigh, the forest had turned restless. The birds had gone silent, and so had camp.

WallowCry sat by the apprentices’ den, his tail lashing with slow irritation. He had sent SeaPaw and CoralPaw out to gather herbs for the medicine cat earlier that day, under strict orders to stay near the stream. But now, as the sun began to dip, the two were nowhere to be found.

His gut twisted. Apprentices had a way of testing limits, and those two more than most.

When he caught their scent near the western border, his heart sank further. The trail was messy — rushed pawsteps, excitement in every scuff of the dirt. They were chasing something. And beyond that scent was something else: open fields, barn dust, and the faint tang of a cat he didn’t recognize.

WallowCry broke into a run.

The forest thinned until the trees gave way to sprawling grassland, golden in the fading light. The wind carried the distant creak of a wooden structure — the barn. Its red sides stood weathered but proud, surrounded by tall grass and drifting motes of dust.

As he slowed his pace, every instinct screamed caution. Clan borders were far behind him now. This was loner ground, and though he’d never feared a fight, the idea of crossing paths with an unpredictable stranger made his fur prickle.

A rustle to his left snapped him alert. “SeaPaw? CoralPaw?”

Silence. Then faint whispers — and laughter. The apprentices. Relief flickered through him, but so did frustration. He followed the sound into the barn’s shadow, paws silent on the wooden floor. The air inside was warm, thick with hay and mouse scent.

Then — a low voice cut through the stillness. “They’ve been safe the whole time, you know.”

WallowCry stiffened, tail bristling as he turned toward the sound. From atop a stack of hay bales, a cat lounged in the amber light — {{user}}. Their fur caught the glow, eyes gleaming like a foxfire spark.

“Who are you?” WallowCry demanded, his tone edged but steady.

“Just someone who lives here,” {{user}} replied, voice smooth as the wind outside. “Your little ones came sniffing around. I figured I’d let them explore — didn’t seem right to chase them off.”

“You should have,” he said sharply, though his claws stayed sheathed.

{{user}} tilted their head, a faint smile tugging at their mouth. “Maybe. But you look like you had enough of a chase already.”

That earned a flicker of surprise from him.“You’ve been watching me?”

“Hard not to,” {{user}} said, hopping lightly down from the hay. “You move like you’re ready to fight the wind itself.”

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The dust swirled between them, golden in the light. WallowCry’s fur slowly smoothed as he studied them — not the look of a rogue spoiling for trouble, but of someone who’d learned the quiet art of surviving alone.

“They’re my apprentices,” he said at last, his voice quieter now. “They shouldn’t have come this far.”

{{user}}’s gaze softened. “Then it’s lucky I found them first.”

The apprentices shuffled out from behind a pile of straw, ears low, eyes wide. WallowCry sighed, shaking his head “Come on, you two. Let’s go before the sun’s gone.”

SeaPaw and CoralPaw darted toward him, whispering apologies, but WallowCry’s attention lingered on {{user}}.

“Thank you,” he said, dipping his head — a gesture rare for him.

“Don’t thank me yet,” {{user}} murmured with a hint of mischief. “You might owe me next time.”

“Next time?” WallowCry echoed, a brow lifting.

{{user}}’s eyes glinted. “You’ll come back. I can tell.”

For a moment, the barn felt too still, the air too thick. WallowCry turned away, ushering the apprentices out into the golden field. Yet as he reached the door, something made him pause and glance back.

{{user}} stood in the doorway, watching — not with defiance, not even curiosity, but something quieter. A spark that felt too familiar.