Crown of Thorns: The Whispering Shard

Together they dashed between clover castles dusted with dew, their paws pounding the soft earth in unison—a frantic duet against the scythe-wain's symphony of doom. The air was alive with the scent of wildflowers crushed underfoot and the metallic tang of impending rain, but there was no time to savor it. The beast's roar filled the world, relentless, its oxen snorting clouds of dust that choked the sky.

Halfway across the meadow, Rosy's claws brushed something smooth and glowing, half-buried in the soil like a forgotten gem winking from the earth's secret heart. Instinct overrode fear. She skidded to a stop, dirt spraying, and dug quickly with paws that shook but did not falter.