Dawn crept across the Pride Circle, slow and amber, catching on every curl of smoke that drifted up from the dying fire. The feast had ended hours ago, but the whispers had not.
They slithered through the camp like restless spirits — soft, sharp, cutting.
"She claimed them all?"
"Before the elders approved?"
"She thinks one hunt makes her queen."
I heard every word as I walked the edge of camp, pretending to admire the sunrise. My new stripe caught the light, bright as molten gold. It felt like a brand and a crown at once.
Luka sat on a low rock, half-awake, polishing his blade. "They're noisy this morning," he said without looking up.
"They were noisy last night," I replied.
He smiled faintly. "Yes, but last night they were cheering. Now they're planning."
I raised an eyebrow. "Let them. I've always liked a little competition."
"Try not to like it too much," came Nox's voice behind me.
He moved out of the shadows, mane unbound, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting across his mouth. He looked as though he hadn't slept.
"Worried?" I asked.
"Annoyed," he said. "You made three elders choke on their wine and at least two females start sharpening their claws."
"Then it was a good night."
He stepped closer, close enough that his shadow merged with mine. "You don't make allies by setting fires."
"Sometimes you do," I countered softly. "Sometimes you burn away the weak light to see who still stands in the glow."
For a heartbeat he studied me, eyes narrowing, unreadable. Then the corner of his mouth twitched. "You sound like you've done this before."
"I've survived worse than whispers."
"I know," he said quietly. "That's what makes the whispers dangerous. They'll come for you because they can't come for me."
His hand brushed a stray leaf from my hair — a simple gesture, unthinking, yet it froze the air between us. I met his gaze and smiled, slow, deliberate. "You worried about your pride or your pride leader's reputation?"
He huffed a quiet laugh. "You enjoy walking the edge, don't you?"
"Only because you pretend it doesn't unsettle you."
Luka coughed behind us, far too loudly. "If you two are done circling each other, the council's messenger is waiting."
Nox stepped back first, his expression composed again. "Duty calls."
I turned toward the waiting messenger at the camp's edge — a young lioness with careful eyes and the scent of tension on her skin.
"The elders summon you," she said, bowing slightly. "They wish to… clarify yesterday's declarations."
"Clarify," I repeated. "That's a gentle word for trouble."
She hesitated. "They also request that you bring your males."
"Of course they do."
When she left, I looked back at Nox. "Do I bow this time, or roar again?"
His grin was quick, dangerous. "Whichever makes them remember your name."
I started toward the council grounds, the sun rising behind me, my stripe catching fire in the light. I could feel the camp watching — admiration, envy, fear — and I let every stare feed the steady rhythm of my steps.
Nox fell into stride beside me. "If they try to break you, hold my gaze."
"Why?"
"So I can remember the look on their faces when you don't bend."
I laughed, low and certain. "Careful, Pride Leader. People might think you like me."
"They already do," he said.
The drums began again in the distance — slow, deliberate, summoning us to whatever storm waited next.