Snowdrop's POV

I was nosing through a stack of herbs in the medicine den when Mistkit padded over, her little voice soft. "Father, where is Mother?"

I blinked, suddenly realizing I hadn't seen Cinderpetal all day. The last I'd known, she was out gathering herbs, yet hours had slipped by since then. "I don't know, dear," I murmured, gently nudging the pile of comfrey leaves aside with my paw. I guided Mistkit toward the den entrance. "Let's go find her. Are your sisters with you?"

Mistkit flicked her tiny tail toward the nursery, where Sandstorm kept watch over her and the other two kits. I offered Sandstorm a grateful smile as she swept her tail around them, drawing the kits close for a warm cuddle. "Could you keep an eye on things here for a bit?" I asked.

"Of course," she replied, her gaze kind. The kits nestled into her fur with contented purrs, and I blinked my thanks before heading out.

Just as I reached the edge of the clearing, Hareheart appeared, her expression clouded. She looked worn and troubled, a faint shadow behind her eyes, even though the blood smears from her hunt were washed clean. Fireheart and I had both questioned her about the incident earlier, but she'd kept quiet.

I tilted my head, worry prickling my fur. "Mom, is everything all right?"

She brushed past without a word, slipping into the warriors' den, perhaps to seek some solitude. I watched her go, a frown tugging at the corner of my mouth. I decided I would speak with her later—first, I had to find Cinderpetal.

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I caught a faint whiff of Cinderpelt's scent drifting through the trees, but beneath it lurked a darker smell that sent a jolt through me—a scent I'd hoped never to encounter again: my father's. Tigerstar. My claws dug into the damp earth as a snarl rose in my throat, my heart pounding harder with each step as I followed their tangled trail. What is he doing here? What has he done?

I pushed forward, my muscles tense and my senses sharpened, racing past trees whose shadows seemed to deepen, ominous and watchful. Then, just ahead in a small clearing bathed in cold morning light, I saw her. Cinderpelt lay crumpled on her side, her gray fur stained with fresh, glistening blood that soaked into the leaves around her, pooling in dark patches that reeked of iron.

"Cinderpelt!" I shouted, leaping forward, landing beside her with a sickening lurch. My breath caught as I took in her still form, her eyes closed, her chest rising only faintly. I pressed my nose against her cheek, the warmth almost gone beneath her fur. "Love, please, wake up," I whispered, my voice breaking. I nudged her gently, searching for any sign of life, my heart heavy with dread.

The forest around us was silent, an eerie hush broken only by the rustle of leaves underfoot. I could feel the weight of Tigerstar's presence lingering, and my anger burned hotter than ever, yet all I could think of was Cinderpelt, lying there so fragile and still, with no one but me to protect her.

My father's scent washed over me, thick and suffocating, laced with that familiar blend of cruelty and cold, bitter ambition. I flattened my ears, feeling a low growl build in my chest as his voice, dripping with mockery, slithered through the clearing.

"We meet again, son," he sneered.

I whirled around to face him, my ears pinned back, teeth bared. "You," I spat, the word a hiss as I lashed out with my paw. But he moved like smoke, effortlessly deflecting my strike, his eyes glinting with twisted amusement.

Then, I noticed it—a jagged wound gaping across his throat, fresh yet deep, as if something immense had torn into him. The edges were raw and glistening, the unmistakable marks of enormous fangs embedded into his fur. My breath hitched as I recognized it—a dragon's bite. Mom.

I froze, a rush of memories and dread washing over me. My mother's stories, her warnings about the ancient dragons, about the curse bound to our bloodline. She'd spoken of them as half-fable, but here, in my father's grim injury, was proof of her battle, her fury, her struggle. Tigerstar's eyes narrowed, noticing my hesitation, a mocking smile curling his mouth as he took a step closer.

"She fought well," he said, his voice low and taunting. "But not well enough."

Rage flared through me, fierce and uncontainable, hotter than any flame.

"Why would you hurt Cinderpelt? She has done nothing to you!" I snarled, crouched protectively over her still form, my fur bristling with fury.

Tigerstar let out a hoarse, mocking laugh, which turned into a hacking cough as blood spattered onto the grass. The sight didn't faze him—if anything, he seemed to revel in it, that twisted gleam of satisfaction lighting his gaze. "Nothing?" he echoed, voice dripping with contempt. "Oh really? She was just a weak little thing who got in the way when I went for Bluestar. I didn't mean to break her leg, but I certainly didn't care. I wanted to see Fireheart suffer, and she was the perfect tool."

He leaned closer, his lips curling in a cruel smirk. "I only wanted that pampered kitty-pet gone from my Clan. Is that so much to ask?"

The sheer callousness in his words made my stomach churn. I hissed, claws unsheathed, barely able to contain my disgust. "You're ShadowClan," I spat. "Why do you keep poisoning ours? You raped my mother, you vile creature, you tore apart her life—"

Tigerstar rolled his eyes, as if I were a mere annoyance. "Yes, yes, I did. But she was going to have my kits regardless," he said coldly. "Isn't that something? If I hadn't, you wouldn't even be here, wouldn't be here to fall for this runt of a medicine cat," he added with a sneer, flicking his tail at Cinderpelt.

His words seared through me, twisting my rage and shame into something unbearable. The urge to strike him, to end his voice, surged inside me, but I forced myself to stay by Cinderpelt's side, pressing closer to her, reminding myself she was my priority. Tigerstar's presence was a poison that sought to consume, but I wouldn't give him that power. He had already taken too much.

With a snarl, I sprang forward, slamming into him with all my weight and knocking him off balance. He grunted in surprise as we hit the ground, but I didn't give him time to recover—I drove my claws into the ragged wound on his throat, sinking deeper as blood oozed between my claws. He yowled, a cry of pain and fury, his voice raw.

"Bastard!" he choked, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and rage.

I leaned down, my voice a low, venomous hiss in his ear. "You underestimated me, Father." I dug my claws in further, feeling the raw edge of his pulsing wound. "You angered a dragon, and now hellfire will rain down on you." The words were a promise, a curse, as I drove my claws deeper into his flesh, twisting with a final, merciless press.

His body jerked, his limbs twitching, as he struggled beneath me. But slowly, the fight drained from him; his eyes glazed over, and he slumped, his defiance snuffed out as he fell limp in my claws.

My chest heaved as I pulled away, staring down at his lifeless form, blood soaking the ground and staining my paws. I swallowed, my throat tight with a tangled knot of rage, pain, and something I couldn't name. I turned back to Cinderpelt, my heart breaking at the sight of her, so still and fragile.

I crouched beside her, pressing my nose into her fur, the warmth fading with each passing moment. A sob rose in my chest, and I let it out, my tears falling silently into her fur as I clung to her, my mind torn between grief and a fierce, desperate hope that she'd open her eyes.

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I blinked slowly, emerging from the fog of grief that had swallowed me, the world around me blurring as I tried to gather my thoughts. A warm, familiar tail was draped over my back, and a rough yet gentle tongue rasped against my cheek, comforting and steadying.

"Wake up, son." The voice was soft, filled with a warmth I'd known all my life. Fireheart. His scent wrapped around me, grounding me, and I leaned into him, letting the strength of his presence hold me together as I choked out a shuddering breath. I wanted to cry harder, but I was hollowed out, every tear already spent. All that was left was an ache, deep and dull.

He pressed his muzzle to my head, a steady warmth that somehow eased the cold gripping my heart. "We're gonna get you home," he murmured, his voice a quiet promise.

I nodded, clinging to him as he helped me to my paws, his strength steadying me, his gaze filled with the patience I'd always admired. I glanced back at Cinderpelt one last time, my heart splintering anew, but I knew I couldn't stay—not like this, not here.

With Fireheart beside me, I took a step, then another, feeling his steady presence guiding me, like a flame in the darkness. He was here, my adoptive father, my anchor. And as we moved through the trees toward the distant sanctuary of home, I felt the faintest glimmer of hope that somehow, someday, I might find peace again.