[TheNyanCatMinecart]

(Act 2: Doubt and Old Bones)

~ WOLFFANG OF WINDCLAN - AMAB HE/HIM - BEEFED UP TIER 1 ~

Large, muscular, dappled gray tom with light cream-gray fluff on the front of his neck and chest; amber eyes.

Wolffang's eyes shot open, only to be greeted by darkness.

For a moment, he thought he had been crushed. His heart pounded like a trapped animal desperately trying to escape its cage. Panic overtook all his senses. There was something soft stuffed up his nose, pressing into it, cutting off his air. His fear tripled. I've been buried alive! He couldn't help thinking that he deserved it. But he didn't want it, and he was terrified. Wolffang scrabbled frantically at whatever was smothering him, expecting to be met with crumpled dirt and hard rocks, but instead, he found a soft substance that moved aside easily. Wolffang shoved it all away, and his head shot up as he gasped for air. He inhaled a tidbit of whatever it was and sneezed.

Panic still gripped him like frozen claws, and he clumsily scrambled to his paws, his broad head whipping from side to side. Where am I? It was dark, and the scent of something faded and green came to him. Moss, he realized instantly. Looking down, he found a blob, nearly invisible in the shadows. It looked like it'd been brutalized. My nest. Wolffang, still panting, took in his surroundings with more calculation. There were cats in the shadows. They slept peacefully, warm breaths and bodies snuggled close together, cocooned in calm. It was the exact opposite of how Wolffang felt.

The warriors' den. This was where he slept.

It had all been a dream.

But it didn't feel like a dream. Because all of it had been based in reality.

The den suddenly felt stuffy. Wolffang had to get out. He needed air.

The large, muscular tom stumbled out of the den, barely managing to avoid trailing tails and muzzles that poked out from their mossy nests. He shouldered his way out through the entrance. Immediately, cold air blasted him in the face, making him shiver. Wolffang's thick coat fluffed out on instinct, and he continued to tumble out, trudging through snow that reached to his ankles. It glistened in the light of the moon and stars. Occasionally, he caught a silver glare.

It looked just like Leopardsong's tears.

Wolffang choked on a lump in his throat. He didn't know where it came from, but he knew why it came.

I'm a bad cat.

He moved off to the side and collapsed in the snow, hardly feeling the cold shock as it sank into his thick fur.

Wolffang had done everything he could to change. He had changed, for StarClan's sake. He was better now. He thought he'd accepted the fact that he could move forward with the present without pretending his sins didn't exist.

Yet all the voices came rushing back.

He'd hurt so many cats, tormented so many cats for things they had no control over.

He'd brushed Leopardsong aside, yelled at her to vent even though he had hardly paid her any mind.

He hadn't been there for WindClan when they desperately needed him because he'd been stuck in his own emotional torment.

He'd hurt Leopardsong by dying.

He'd abandoned Leechscar.

He'd ignored his returned kin and friends.

He'd added onto the torment of a suffering she-cat.

The weight of it all threatened to consume him.

Wolffang didn't want to bury his face in the snow. He didn't want to feel like he was suffocating. Being buried alive was bad enough. It had been the ultimate punishment, really, from Ashfeather, the place where it all began. Or at least, where he had begun. His first wrongdoing.

But he wanted to hide his face, and he didn't know where to do it. His stomach felt like it would empty all its contents, and he realized he was trembling so much that he probably couldn't get back on his paws if he tried.

Saying sorry won't be enough. Resolving to do better won't be enough. I hurt them. I scarred them for life. Do I deserve this? Any of this?

He thought he was over this. He thought he'd resolved this. But apparently not. He'd only been trying to shove his guilt aside and justify his hard feelings. Sure, he had improved. But did someone like him deserve to be happy? Did he deserve a loyal Clan and loving friends?

Did he deserve happiness when others were still suffering because of his actions?

Wolffang didn't want to cry. But his eyes burned, and something swam in them. He gritted his teeth.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...

@Moonraven