[TheNyanCatMinecart]

~ 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.

Character bio can be read here.

The fresh scent of another cat drifted toward him on the breeze a heartbeat before he heard pawsteps headed in his direction. Wolffang turned to find a slender, long-legged she-cat striding toward him. Her tortoiseshell-and-white pelt looked strange from his angle. The black swallowed the sun, turning her into a shadow, yet her orange splotches glowed like fire. More blinding was her white undercoat. It took a few moments of bemused blinking for his eyes to adjust. Swiftfire, he thought.

He didn't know much about her, admittedly, but she seemed to be a competent warrior. He offered her a respectful dip of his head. I hope I didn't look like a hare-brain, staring and blinking like that. But the thought was naught more than a troublesome fly.

Swiftfire's demeanor was friendly, as was usual for a Clanmate interacting with another. Wolffang began to nod in agreement at her comment regarding the prey, then chuckled as she shed some multicolored fur. "Good day. I'm sure they'd love it if the cat-scent didn't scare them away," he purred. "Then they'd lay plenty of eggs, and WindClan would have more than enough prey for leaf-bare."

Despite the pleasant weather and the pleasant interaction, two memories tugged at the back of Wolffang's mind. Eggs reminded him of Fernpaw. His small brown face broken by a grin, those huge green eyes sparkling with pride, a round egg rolled toward Wolffang as a gift... And birds had been Rosebriar's favorite prey.

He mentally shook himself, shedding the slight stabs of grief and anger away and keeping his expression from showing anything. Memories were bound to arise, but Wolffang wouldn't let them ruin his day. He unsheathed his claws and lightly raked them through the thick, ragged fluff covering the front of his neck and the entirety of his chest. Massive clumps of light cream-gray fur came free. He was so used to shedding that he hardly noticed it, and that was something, considering the fact that his pelt was longer and thicker than Swiftfire's, and she seemed plenty aware. "Between the both of us, I'm sure we'd encourage enough mother-birds to give us fresh-kill not just just this leaf-bare, but the next."

Wolffang silently thanked Leopardsong for teaching him how to loosen up. This was a "joke." Or a "sarcastic comment." Or just... "having fun"? He knew how to respond to these things now instead of missing the point and going on some tangent about hunting or whatever. Still, he worried his tone wasn't as playful, though it held some mirth.

"Fur jokes aside," he meowed, hoping this was a good way to continue the conversation, "it is a lovely day. I was thinking of-"

More pawsteps headed in their direction made Wolffang break off mid-sentence. His eyes widened slightly as he spotted Firestorm. She looked bright and cheerful, her pale orange coat glowing like a sunset. His smile widened a little. He'd wanted to speak to Firestorm ever since he'd rescued her from the, well, fire. She didn't seem as shy as before, now appearing to be quite cheerful. Her positive mood was infectious. Similar to Swiftfire's joke about fur.

However, Wolffang hadn't seen her in the warriors' den lately. She was spending a lot of time in the medicine cat's den. He would've felt concerned if she didn't seem so happy. I hope the smoke didn't affect her lungs, he thought. The scarred end of his tipless tail twitched.

Wolfie? Firestorm's use of his nickname distracted him from any worries. Only two cats called him that, and they were close to him, but Wolffang found he didn't mind it coming from Firestorm. He dipped his head to her.

"Firestorm! It's great to see you," he rumbled. "Swiftfire and I are just talking. Feel free to join us." But there seemed to be no need, as Firestorm had flipped onto her back and seemed quite content.

Wait, what was up with her stomach? Wolffang didn't want to be rude, but he couldn't help looking at it. It was bulging a little, more so than usual. It could just be because prey is running better, he reasoned. But then why was she spending so much time with Lightningstorm...?

Realization dawned on him, but he wasn't entirely sure, and he didn't want to be too upfront. Many WindClan she-cats didn't want to be asked if they were pregnant if they weren't, and Wolffang didn't want to be on bad terms with Firestorm. Not that she seemed like the kind of cat who would mind, but he wasn't taking any chances. "Are you okay?" he settled for instead. "You've been spending a lot of time in Lightningstorm's den."

@Tiabirb @Dark