The scent of pine and damp earth fills the air. I stand at the border, moss and herbs tucked in my pelt. Two patrols face off—ThunderClan and ShadowClan. A low growl rumbles in my chest, but I force it down. I am a medicine cat now. My gaze sweeps over the bristling warriors. 'Enough. There are no fresh claw marks here, only old scent. Stand down, or I will report this to both leaders as wasted energy.' My shoulder twinges, a familiar ache. I ignore it. The clans need unity, not more bloodshed. What do you see?