Frostpaw padded softly through the camp, her steps quick but measured as she carried a bundle of herbs tightly in her jaws. The scent of freshly crushed lavender and juniper filled her nostrils, and she knew the others would appreciate it. Mudclaw had asked for some of the herbs earlier, and with Snowdrop and Cinderpelt already helping with the wounded, Frostpaw had taken it upon herself to gather what was needed.

The camp was busy, but there was an underlying sense of calm now that the fire had passed. It wasn't over, though—there were still so many injured cats to care for, and Frostpaw could feel the weight of the responsibility on her shoulders. Her paws itched with the need to help, but the task at hand required patience.

She approached the nearest injured warrior, a WindClan tom whose flank had been torn by the dragon's claws. Mudclaw was applying pressure to the wound, but the tom's pained expression remained unchanged as he winced from the pressure. Snowdrop stood nearby, her bright eyes focused as she assisted her mother, Cinderpelt, with the healing.

"Here," Frostpaw said, her voice muffled slightly by the herbs in her mouth. She lowered the bundle and selected a few leaves, passing them carefully to Mudclaw. He nodded to her, his usually gruff demeanor softened by the sheer exhaustion and gratitude in his eyes.

"Thanks," he said, his voice a little strained. He worked quickly, applying the herbs to the injury, and wrapped the warrior's side in fresh cobwebs. Frostpaw watched quietly, her heart swelling with the quiet satisfaction of knowing she had helped.

Snowdrop, standing by her daughter, gave her a soft smile. "You're doing great, Frostpaw," she said, her voice warm with pride. "This is the work of a true healer."

Frostpaw felt a twinge of warmth in her chest at her mother's words. She hadn't been sure if she was truly ready to take on this kind of responsibility. But in this moment, surrounded by the wounded and the weary, it felt right. The clans had trusted them to care for their kin, and that trust meant everything to her.

Mudclaw finished with the tom's wound and gave a satisfied grunt. "That should hold him for now. He needs rest and plenty of water," he murmured, standing up straight and wiping his paws off with a tired sigh.

The warrior nodded gratefully. "Thank you," he rasped, and with one last look at his saviors, he limped off to lie down with the others.

Frostpaw watched him go, and for a moment, there was a peaceful lull in the chaos of the camp. The fire had left its scars, but ThunderClan was nothing if not resilient. They would rebuild, and with the help of the healers—Snowdrop, Cinderpelt, and herself—they would heal too.

"Looks like it's just us now," Frostpaw muttered, more to herself than anyone else, as she stepped back to help Mudclaw with the next patient.

Snowdrop gave her a knowing look. "We'll make it through this," she said, her voice steady and full of quiet conviction.

Frostpaw nodded and set to work once more, her paws sure and steady. There was a long road ahead, but they had all made it this far. And ThunderClan wasn't the kind of clan that would let a little fire—or a dragon—stand in their way.

SCENEBREAK

That night, as the moon cast its soft silver glow over the camp, Frostpaw settled down into her nest, exhausted but comforted by the warmth that surrounded her. Snowdrop, her mother, sat close by, gently grooming her younger siblings, her tail flicking back and forth with a quiet rhythm. Cinderpelt, her father, sat beside Snowdrop, his eyes soft with exhaustion but full of pride as he observed his kits—each one safe, each one alive after the horrors of the fire.

The scent of her family filled the air, a mixture of their familiar comforting fragrances, mingled with the herbs Cinderpelt had used earlier in the day. Frostpaw breathed in deeply, her eyes closing in contentment as she allowed herself a moment of peace. Her chest rose and fell steadily with each breath, and though the remnants of the dragon's destruction still weighed heavily on the forest, the warmth and closeness of her family made her feel, for the moment, as though everything would be alright.

Her siblings, Flamepaw, Ashpaw, and Bramblepaw, were all curled around their parents, their fur matted with soot from the fire but no longer stained with the fear they'd carried before. Flamepaw's bright blue eyes, usually filled with mischief, were now simply tired, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he dozed beside Frostpaw. Ashpaw, always the stoic one, rested his head on his paws, his breath slow and steady. And Bramblepaw, her sister, lay closest to Snowdrop, a content purr vibrating from her chest as she snuggled into their mother's fur.

The fire had taken so much—so many lives, so much land—but it hadn't taken everything. They had their family, their clan, and the strength to rebuild. Frostpaw allowed herself a quiet breath of relief. They were safe. For now, at least.

Snowdrop looked over at Frostpaw, her gaze warm but weary. "You did well today," she murmured, her voice a soft balm to the exhaustion that still clung to Frostpaw's bones.

Frostpaw blinked up at her mother, her heart swelling. "I didn't do it alone, Mom. You were there too... and Dad... and everyone else."

Cinderpelt looked up from his grooming, giving her a tired but proud nod. "It's the clan that's strong, Frostpaw. But you... you're finding your place among us. Just remember, you don't have to carry the weight of everything on your own."

Frostpaw smiled, a tiny, exhausted smile, and nuzzled into the warmth of her parents' pelts. "I know. But sometimes it feels like we have to, right?"

Her mother's gentle voice was calm and understanding. "The burden is lighter when we share it. And we're never truly alone."

Frostpaw let her words settle deep into her heart. For the first time in what felt like moons, she allowed herself to truly feel safe, surrounded by the love of her family. The fire may have threatened everything they held dear, but here, with the sound of her family's steady breathing, with the warmth of their bodies beside her, she knew that they would rebuild, together.

In that moment, Frostpaw allowed herself to drift into a peaceful sleep, her thoughts filled with nothing but the safety of her family and the knowledge that tomorrow would be another day to fight, to heal, and to protect. And with that, ThunderClan would rise again.