She'd seen it. The fire.
The first hint of light she'd seen since the eclipse first began. Naturally, she'd been drawn to it.
And what she saw through the flames...
A battle unlike any she'd ever seen, even compared to the battle for Sunningrocks. Since she'd been driven from the barn she'd wandered the outskirts of the territories, avoiding patrols and catching what prey she could. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of any Exiles or Rogues.
Until the war. Through the flickering flames, she found many faces she recognized from the day she tried to rescue Cinderpelt. Lichenmask, for one, and the she-cat that had ruled by his side. The apprentices and apprentice-aged cats she had knocked aside so easily mere days before, all clashing with cats that could very well have been their kin. Blood coated the ground and the scent of burnt fur was heavy in the air.
Sharptooth had tried her best to join the battle, but the flames were relentless and she was barely able to get within three foxlengths of the battle before being driven away by the unbearable heat.
So Sharptooth stumbled into the barn at long last, her large ears flatting as her eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. The Exiles and Shade's group weren't here, and the sun had returned, meaning Lichenmask must've lost. She was free to return to her cozy little nest in the back corner of the straw-stuffed barn.
The warm air, the old scent, the quiet shuffling of mice exploring beneath the thick layers of straw and dust. She was finally home.
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