~ WOLFFANG OF WINDCLAN ~
Large, muscular, dappled gray tom with light fluff on the front of his neck and chest; amber eyes.
Anger thrummed through Wolffang as thoughts of Twilightstar's injury, Beanstar's brutality, and the oncoming war raged through him like a torrential downpour. It set his amber eyes aflame, so vibrant against his medium-gray face. But none of it was directed at Cloverheart as he looked at her. He noted the twitching of her white tail-tip, a fleck of snow amongst the muddied grass and ferns, and practically felt the disdain and fury radiating from her - both because of RiverClan and him, he guessed. The tension of this whole situation made him want to tense and bush his fur out so he appeared twice his size, but he kept his pelt smooth and his muscles to a straining level that didn't make them bulge dramatically. When she nodded in response to his words, he nodded back and turned to the Galewood. He did
not like that tree, but at least it served as a worthy landmark. He was also glad that Cloverheart was willing to battle train with him, though he'd already suspected it. He was her mentor, after all, and she was devoted enough to learn from him despite their troubled past. Though his inter-Clan relationships were important, nothing took up more of his attention than the oncoming war against Beanstar and his soggy fish-eaters. Wolffang's paws were muddy from how deep he'd dug them into the rain-soaked earth. The scents of rage wreathed around him. War was bloody and brutal, but it would bring the Clan together. There was no room for infighting on a battlefield.
The fire in Wolffang's blood cooled a bit as Fallownose began to talk about typical Clan matters. For a moment, it felt out of place alongside Twilightstar's grave injuries and the declaration of war against RiverClan. Then he realized that this was Clan life. Conflicts may begin and battles might rage, but that wouldn't stop the progression of ranks and the natural order of hunting and patrolling. The thought brought him some comfort.
Thank StarClan we've had time to recover from the fire. Even though Wolffang missed the slide of sand beneath his broad paws and the unbroken sweep of wind across the clearing, he'd stopped waking disoriented with his surroundings, and the scents filling the air felt familiar. He'd always mourn for what the ravaging flames had taken, but... WindClan had a home now. Kits would be born here, never knowing what had been lost. The thought sent a pang of sadness through him.
Life moves on and goes back to the way it was before, but it will never erase memories and stories. He knew that better than most.
Though it seemed that, for once, there were no new apprentices to be made. Wolffang blinked, his eyelids closing on deep thought and opening on concern. There were
always kits ready for their ceremonies. But not now.
How many kits did the fire take from us? How many queens? he wondered, a worm of a cold and unpleasant feeling slithering into his stomach.
Maybe it wasn't the fire. Maybe we just don't have kits ready to be apprenticed, he thought hopefully, trying to shove away his dread. Still, the thought didn't sit easily. WindClan needed new apprentices more than ever, especially with the damage caused by the fire and the approaching war.
There was some good news, though: Only two of WindClan's current apprentices needed mentor reassignments. A relieved smile twitched on the corners of Wolffang's lips.
Thank StarClan for that. It seemed WindClan's warriors were stepping up and finally not abandoning their apprentices.
Maybe the fire helped the wayward ones realize their duties to their Clans. That would be one good thing that came of it, though Wolffang wouldn't stop wishing that he hadn't awoken to smoke filling his lungs and his leader's frantic call.
Briefly, he wondered how it had affected Leechscar. Wolffang doubted there was anything that could alter the disrespectful tom's mind. However, he was willing to fight for his Clan in a time of need, and that was what mattered.
Mostly.
Wolffang was distracted from those thoughts as Fallownose announced that there was a warrior ceremony. Warmth filled him from the tip of his singular notched ear to the end of his slightly shortened tail. Yes, there was good news at this meeting despite its disturbing beginning.
And the cat who was becoming a warrior...
His amber gaze fell upon a pale orange she-cat with classic tabby markings.
Firepaw.
Memories flooded into Wolffang's head: Milkpaw, now Milknose, rushing back into the smoke and flames to save his friend; Wolffang helping him find Firepaw through the stinging and burning filling their eyes, nose, and lungs; the mad dash out of camp, dodging burning greenery; the desperate wait by the river, praying to StarClan that the apprentices had made it to safety. He shook the disturbing images away and focused on the she-cat, remembering his relief when he'd seen her and Milkpaw safe and sound. He hadn't seen her much since those terrible days spent camped on RiverClan's border, then in the tunnels, but now he felt like a warm sunbeam had fallen upon his insides. Firepaw had nearly died during those terrible times, but she had overcome them and was now ready to become a warrior. His smile was full now.
Thank you, StarClan, for sparing her and allowing her to finish her training. Firepaw was older than the average apprentice, but with the fire, he wasn't one to judge. She seemed enthusiastic, too, positive energy leaking from her like snow sweating in the heat. Wolffang normally preferred formality, but with everything WindClan had been through, he didn't judge her. Rather, her happiness was gratifying. It showed she was ready to serve her Clan without allowing the tragic events of this greenleaf to overwhelm her.
There was another feeling, too, besides the happiness: A sense of pride. Firepaw - and Milknose, for that matter - might not be here if Wolffang hadn't helped them. The thought was like the sun peeking behind a stormcloud, pride and dread mingling.
I did what any loyal warrior - what any loyal Clanmate
- would do. It was nothing to boast about, nothing to get praise or attention for. Wolffang had simply done his duty. That didn't stop the warmth and joy from swirling within him as he gazed at the apprentice, though.
Serving my Clan, helping my Clanmates... It's the best feeling in the world. However, it wasn't just that.
Being among my Clanmates is the best feeling, too. Living. Talking to those I hardly know or sharing tongues with friends. "Playing games" with Leopardsong, whatever that means. His Clan was both something to live and to die for. He didn't
want to die, not as recklessly as when he'd sacrificed himself with the dogs - something he'd never apologize for - but he would give up his life if it meant saving the ones he loved.
StarClan told me I'd live for a while yet. He wouldn't be dying anytime soon. The thought was comforting. But that didn't mean he'd be reckless. StarClan's word would be upheld if he lived his life the way he ought to - thinking through the positives and negatives, taking risks when necessary, and fighting to help his Clan.
How could Leechscar - or anyone, for that matter - live with such disloyalty? How could any Clan cat not feel the desire to protect everyone around them to the best of their ability - with their life, if it came to that?
Wolffang looked up at Fallownose as the deputy began Firepaw's warrior ceremony. He must've already listed the reassignments. Wolffang would've known if his name was called, so he didn't worry too much about it. Standing tall, his dark gray pelt like a shadow in the warm sunlight, his yellow-amber eyes glowing with authority - Fallownose almost looked like a leader.
He'll be a worthy successor to Twilightstar. Though Wolffang hoped Twilightstar wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Whoever took her last life would find themself beneath his flashing claws.
It was a bit odd, having the deputy perform this sacred ceremony instead of the leader, but Wolffang knew it was necessary. The making of a new warrior, especially with WindClan's streak, couldn't be held off. So, he offered Firepaw a respectful dip of his head and an encouraging look, eyes shining and a smile on his face. There would be bloodshed, but WindClan would have one more warrior to face it.
@
ares (Cloverheart; your post wasn't bad at all! And there's nothing wrong with short posts, either.
) @
Undertaker (Leechscar mention) @
Moonraven (Leopardsong mention) @
Lillian (Fallownose mention) @
Darkclaws (Firepaw) @
Wingnettle (Milknose mention)
Re: WindClan Galewood
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