Wolffang's Death - The Wolf, The Rose, and The Feather [P]

[TheNyanCatMinecart]

[This takes place after the patrol to check on RiverClan territory and should be treated as such. I will make a post out in the territory for someone to find Wolffang's body after the RC patrol is turned in. I am going to my grandma's for two weeks, and I wanted to get this out before I left.]


[CONTENT WARNING: This thread will contain themes of ableism and violence.]


~ WOLFFANG OF WINDCLAN ~

AMAB | HE/HIM | WARRIOR | 57 MOONS | BEEFED UP TIER 1

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

Character bio can be read here.


~ TWISTEDPAW OF WINDCLAN ~

AFAB | SHE/HER | APPRENTICE | 17 MOONS | NO PURRKS

Small, skinny, black she-cat with a light gray belly and tail-tip, a mangled tail, a crooked jaw, and one blind eye.


~ ROSEBRIAR OF THE DARK FOREST ~

AFAB | SHE/HER | FORMER WINDCLAN WARRIOR | WORLDWEAVER TIER 2 | SPIRITUAL ENCOUNTER

Lithe, dark red-orange she-cat with a cream-colored dorsal stripe, a fluffy white chest, and a single leaf-green eye.


Wolffang padded across the open moor. Long green grasses rustled beneath his huge paws and caressed his ankles with their soft touch. Occasionally, he brushed past a lumpy patch of heather or sidestepped a bristling gorse bush. The flowers traced sweet scent trails in the air, mingling with the lush aromas of fresh-growing grass and earthy peat. He relished the tastes as a stiff wind blew, chilling his nose but not reaching past his thick, medium-length pelt. The day was almost perfect.

He cast a disapproving glance up at the sky. The hot greenleaf sun, complimented perfectly by the wind, had beat down for many days, rarely hampered by rain. But now patchy clouds invaded the sky, cutting off most of the heat and burying a large portion of its beautiful blue hue in white and gray. I hope it clears soon, he thought, his single ear twitching. He hated rain, how it fell from the sky and soaked into his fur, how it transformed the ground into dark muck and chased prey into their holes. Though he couldn't help but wonder: did the prey ever drown? Did the rain fill their little homes and block them off, cutting off their air with no possible escape?

He suppressed a shudder. Drowning had always been a fear of his, ever since his mentor had shown him the fast-flowing river that ran through RiverClan's lands. The rushing water, its hidden depths... it still made his stomach clench with discomfort.

It didn't help that he'd almost drowned thrice. Or that he hated RiverClan with everything a cat had.

Wolffang pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, the fears of being trapped underground and the memories of water replacing the air in his lungs. He couldn't smell rain on the wind. The sky should be clear for training with Twistedpaw.

He always kept his huge ear angled back and his nose sharp, ensuring the Ashfeather copy was close behind him. Several seasons ago, this would've been unheard of. Him caring for her. Helping her train to be a WindClan warrior. Accepting her. However, it felt normal now, not strange and foreign. And Wolffang was proud of himself for that. Leopardsong, Twilightstar, Lilyantler, Shockholly, Crowtooth... they'd all told him how much he'd learned and grown. And he believed them wholeheartedly. He was a different cat now, and he was glad of it.

Besides, he felt like he had a duty to Twistedpaw. He had to protect her - from outside threats, from hateful cats within her own Clan. He'd made Ashfeather's life a living Dark Forest. He owed this to Twistedpaw, and there were many other debts that would never be paid.

Twistedpaw made sure she didn't stray too far from Wolffang. The warrior was large, swift for his bulging muscles and broad figure, most likely from seasons upon seasons of experience. However, keeping up with him wasn't a chore. She suspected he was slowing down for her. She appreciated that. A lot. He really cares about me. He'd always looked out for her, and Twistedpaw was eternally grateful.

Was there a reason? She pondered this as the long grasses brushed against her legs, caressing the scars on her now-healed belly and flank. The wind was stiff, and the greenleaf sun was almost entirely hidden. Unfortunate, especially since she was supposed to be battle training. She could feel her crooked jaw and mangled tail stiffening up. It's uncomfortable now, but getting my blood flowing will help, she reasoned.

Still, she wished the sun was out.

At least the smells were pleasant. Twistedpaw inhaled deeply, the air whistling oddly over her oversized tooth. She loved the smell of growth, but especially the smell of flowers. Heather was her favorite. She sniffed a clump of the light purple flowers, careful not to get too close. She didn't want to sneeze. That would make her jaw hurt even more. And the thought of Wolffang seeing snot run down her face... She shuddered, ignoring the jolt of discomfort that shot through her mouth.

So, a reason... She watched Wolffang's back, his dappled gray coat almost blending into the cloudy sky above them. The lush green grass stood out starkly against it. Was he just being nice? He usually seemed a little gruff, but he was warm toward his Clanmates. Most of them, anyway. Did he know Ashfeather? she wondered. Maybe they'd been friends, and he saw the deceased warrior in Twistedpaw? That could be a possibly. Leechscar, Dreamlight, and Twilightstar all did.

Twistedpaw wondered a lot about Ashfeather and why they looked so similar. Were they connected somehow? Or was it a strange coincidence? Maybe... maybe their deformities were just some kind of condition that randomly got passed onto kits. Were they related? She couldn't imagine Willowsky being related to Ashfeather, though... Maybe Palecloud?

She decided to ask Twilightstar later. Guilt still nipped at her whenever she remembered confessing to her accidental trespass on RiverClan territory and worrying that she'd caused additional trouble. Now she understood that RiverClan was the problem. They had chosen to break into their camp, maul her over a mistake, and later murder Fallownose and Fernrise. Twistedpaw still felt shocked whenever she thought of the dead deputy - and guilty, too. She'd spent so long feeling awkward and even nervous about him because he'd harmed Willowsky. Now she understood that he'd been doing his duty. If it weren't for him... I might be dead.

Twistedpaw pushed unpleasant memories of her abusive mother away. Despite some of the treatment she'd received, most of her Clanmates had been wonderful. Always willing to help, to compliment her. She couldn't help the flush that came to her cheeks when she remembered how Honeychatter had called her pretty. There was also Vinepaw's kindness, Batglare's mentorship... and, of course, Wolffang's support. She was happy in WindClan, and she was determined to be the best warrior she could be.

Suddenly, her paw caught on an animal hole, and she tripped. Twistedpaw squealed in alarm as the upset in balance - and her mangled tail - lurched her to the side, as if a huge cat had grabbed her and jerked her around. Wolffang immediately turned toward the noise and hurried toward Twistedpaw. Was she alright? Yes, she'd righted herself by the time he got there and sniffed her over.

"Are you alright?" he asked. She didn't smell like blood, and she looked a little surprised, but not injured. The only odor here was a faint trace of mouse, but they weren't here to hunt. They could always catch something on the way back.

Twistedpaw nodded. She felt a little embarrassed, but she was comfortable around Wolffang, and her humiliation quickly faded. "My paw caught on something," she replied, glancing back. She couldn't even see the hole, hidden as it was.

Wolffang nodded. He couldn't see it, either. "We're almost there," he meowed. "Watch where you step - holes like that aren't easy to see, and if you're unlucky, you could sprain a paw." That would force her out of training, and, considering Twistedpaw's age, he was sure she didn't want that.

Twistedpaw followed that line of thinking. She nodded emphatically, her crooked jaw bobbing. "Yes, Wolffang!" It would be difficult to keep an eye on Wolffang and the ground at the same time, considering she only had one working eye... but she also had her ears, however small, and her nose, however distorted.

The two headed off... unaware of the spirit watching them.

Rosebriar was furious.

Fury had always played a role in her life. As a WindClan cat, when she'd been forced to watch Twilightstar - that soft-hearted piece of hare dung - take in disfigured and impure cats, polluting her beloved Clan with their blood. As a loner, after the dogs had marred her beautiful appearance, ripping away half her face and snapping her leg, feeling left out and ostracized. As a StarClan cat, when they'd forced her to keep her scars because they thought she deserved it. And now as a lurker in the Dark Forest, turning her back on the stars and the unfair punishments they'd forced upon her.

She had other rage, though. Toward her depraved appearance, once so stunningly beautiful and now ripped apart. And, of course, toward her treacherous brother, who had spat on everything their dear mother Featherwhisker taught them and turned toward impurity and ugliness.

In other words, Rosebriar had waited far too long. Now it was time for revenge.

She observed the two cats walking on the moor together, her stomach tight with rage, her pretty white claws shooting out of their sheaths with enough force to kill a mouse on the spot. Wolffang looked as handsome and powerful as ever, muscles rolling beneath his smooth pelt, scars mostly hidden. There was a friendly gleam in his amber eyes as he looked at the cat next to him.

Twistedface.

Rosebriar gagged with revulsion at the sight of the skinny black-and-light-gray she-cat. That mangled tail, jagged as lightning, twisted and bulging in all directions... that crooked jaw, hanging loose, that horrific oversized tooth glinting at its edge... that cloudy, colorless eye, staring unseeing...

So many emotions shot through her at once that the starry-furred she-cat almost collapsed from the force of them. Rage at her brother and at Twistedface, of course. Disgust at how the former deputy looked at Twistedface with such kindness and no trace of the decency of a real cat. And shock. Twistedface was dead!

A tremor began deep within Rosebriar and spread throughout her body like wildfire until she was shaking like grass in a gale, stars sparking off of her every which way.

Had StarClan brought her back to life?

That did it. Those featherbrains had taken things way too far!

But wait. Rosebriar frowned at Twistedface. She was missing some scars, and she looked... younger. And did Wolffang just call her Twistedpaw? Not even Ashfeather, the real name Rosebriar refused to use.

Realization slammed into her like a monster. The force of it jolted Rosebriar's trembling figure to a halt.

This was a reincarnation.

They hadn't just brought Twistedface back to life; they'd given her another chance at it.

The idiocracy, the cruelty, the sheer injustice of it all, threatened to consume her. Rosebriar had been humiliated, hurt, disgraced by her Clanmates and the stars. If any cat deserved another chance at life, it was her. But no, they had to give it to an ugly, impure, disabled piece of rat dung.

Rosebriar's raging emotions settled into a cold, hard feeling that filled her chest and kindled a fire deep within her soul. Her single leaf-green eye narrowed into a glowing slit. An ugly snarl marred her half-covered face.

She was going to end them both.

Wolffang slowed to a stop. This was the perfect place for battle training. The ground was firm with enough grass to soften a fall; there was plenty of room to move; and there were a few nearby trees to block the worst of the wind. Twistedpaw stopped right on his heels, scanning the area. She was glad the harsh breeze wouldn't be as much of an issue.

"This is a good spot," Wolffang meowed. "Let's-"

A strange scent tickled his nose. He paused, and Twistedpaw gazed at him, confused. It took her a moment before she caught it as well.

"What's that?" she asked. "It smells like something's... rotting."

Wolffang nodded. The scent was growing stronger, and now he could make out what it was. "It smells like crow-food," he growled. "We should check it out."

Twistedpaw twitched her whiskers in agreement. Part of her didn't want to know what could be muddying the air with such foulness... but the other part was overwhelmed by curiosity. Did something die? If that was the case, they needed to report it to Twilightstar. She hoped they'd still be able to train. What if it's a cat? The thought sent a chill ricocheting down her spine. I really hope it's just a dead rabbit or something...

Wolffang led Twistedpaw toward the revolting stench. His fur twitched uncomfortably as he, too, wondered what it could possibly be. "Stay close," he warned the small apprentice. "We don't know what could be lying at the end of that trail."

Twistedpaw nodded. Though she looked a little unsettled, her face was set with determination. Wolffang felt a stab of admiration for her. Ashfeather was this brave. I just never saw it.

With the openness of the moor, it didn't take long for them to find the source of the StarClan-awful stench. Pink flesh lay exposed to the cloud-ridden sky, its hide torn to shreds. Blood surrounded it in a dark pool; it had dried some time ago. Wolffang screwed up his face. He couldn't tell what creature it had once been, but it was massive.

Twistedpaw stared at it, shocked and disgusted. She'd never seen anything like it before. And all that blood... She tried hard not to be reminded of how Cedarfrost had nearly torn her apart.

"What... is that thing?" she whispered to Wolffang.

The warrior glanced at her. "I don't know," he admitted. He tasted the air, despite his instincts telling him to block his nose. "But we should get away from here. This carcass is old, but whatever killed it might not be far away." He couldn't catch another scent, but that wasn't surprising, considering the overpowering stench.

Twistedpaw nodded. Disappointment surged through her, but she did her best to ignore it. Batglare can always take me out another time. Telling Twilightstar about this was more important than battle training.

Suddenly, something shimmered in front of the corpse. Wolffang took a step back, his eyes flashing in an amber burst of awe. Twistedpaw stared, too, crooked jaw hanging open as the stars took the shape of a cat.

This cat was beautiful but hurt. She was slightly smaller than average with a lithe frame. Her fur was groomed to an impossible degree of sleekness, though it fluffed nicely around her chest and tail. A creamy dorsal stripe ran from the base of her neck to the tip of her tail, contrasting against her dark red-orange fur. Her chest was as pure white as the snow. But the right side of her face was shockingly pink, ripped of its fur and marred with scars. Only an empty socket remained. The other eye, as green as the leaves on the Galewood, was narrowed into a glare of pure hatred.

Instinctual fear rose within Twistedpaw, especially as she saw the hairs along Wolffang's spine rise toward the sky and the glint as his long, sharp claws unsheathed. His broad shoulders went rigid. A growl rumbled in his throat.

Even though this cat was of StarClan, she was dangerous. Cruel.

Though Twistedpaw didn't know this she-cat, Wolffang would recognize her anywhere. His throat tightened with rage, and he stepped protectively in front of Twistedpaw. He did not trust his sister around the Ashfeather reincarnation.

"Rosebriar. What are you doing here?" he snarled.

"What am I doing here?" Rosebriar scoffed, offended by his question. "Your head must be stuffed full of feathers and bees." Her lip curled back, revealing unusually white teeth. Twistedpaw shrunk away but stood her ground. Wolffang knows her. How? From where? Why were they so mad at each other? What if they had to fight Rosebriar? But was it possible to fight a StarClan cat? Was it even ethical?

"Cut that out. I don't have time for petty words." Wolffang's low growl briefly drew Twistedpaw away from her myriad of confused thoughts. "I know you're up to something." His tipless tail lashed behind him. "You did something. You're responsible for this, aren't you?" He jerked his chin toward the ravaged animal that lay behind her.

"Of course I am." Rosebriar took a limping step forward. Twistedpaw flinched; Wolffang held his ground. He was not going to back away from this vile excuse of a cat.

"For so long," Rosebriar continued, bitterness leeching into her words and coating them in poison, "I was put down. Shoved aside. Judged and hated. Why? Because I wanted to make WindClan great! We wanted to make WindClan great!" She jabbed a starry claw at her littermate. "We were going to rid our Clan of every impure-blooded, ugly, disfigured cat so we could be the most powerful of them all."

Wolffang was acutely aware of Twistedpaw behind him. He tried not to think about her as he focused on Rosebriar.

Twistedpaw stared at Rosebriar in horror, then glanced at Wolffang. What? She could hardly believe her ears.

"When you became deputy, I thought we'd have that chance. But NO! You became weak. You decided to conform to WindClan's standards, treat the unworthy like they belonged. All while I was shunned and neglected, ripped apart by dogs, losing the last of my beauty. I died alone, forced to carry StarClan's punishment with me. And now I suffer in the Dark Forest with our mother, unjustly sent there for doing the right thing!"

Was Twistedpaw caught in a windstorm? Her head was whirling like one. All this new information being thrown at her... There were cats who wanted to purify WindClan by driving out... maybe even killing... those like me. She didn't doubt it, from the madness that permeated Rosebriar's very being. It made her sick. It made her feel like she was hunted, in danger.

But... that's not the standard, she realized. They punished Rosebriar - and her mother - for thinking that way. Wolffang - the warrior who had always been so nice to her - had been a part of that group, too. But he'd changed. Looking at him, it was impossible to imagine him ever acting so horrible toward anyone.

"You deserved everything that happened to you," Wolffang spat. Rage made his head whirl, yet his thoughts were clear. "You hurt unnecessarily. You made innocent cats suffer. I have worked every day to overcome who I was. You haven't changed at all and instead blame everything - and everyone - else. And you banished yourself to the Dark Forest, Rosebriar. You could've stayed in StarClan, changed, watched over WindClan. But you chose to turn your back on them all."

She banished herself? Rosebriar was clearly mad, Twistedpaw could tell.

She wasn't just mad, she was furious. "I DESERVED NONE OF IT!!!" she shrieked. Twistedpaw winced at the piercing words. "I SHOULD BE HONORED FOR MY BEAUTY AND MY STANDARDS!!! BUT NO!!! STARCLAN FORCED ME TO BE LIKE THIS!!! I'M FED UP WITH YOU - BOTH OF YOU!!!" If WindClan and StarClan had appreciated her, Rosebriar wouldn't be in this mess! She and Featherwhisker would be happy together, not skulking in the muck and shadows.

Her furious gaze moved past Wolffang to Twistedpaw, who flinched away from it. "YOU!!! YOU'RE THE SAME AS TWISTEDFACE!!! UGLY, VILE, ROTTEN. YOU DESERVE THE SLOW TORTURE OF THE PLACE OF NO STARS!!! BOTH OF YOU!!! I. AM. GOING. TO. END. THIS. NOW!!!!"

Twistedface? Twistedpaw shrank back, afraid of what Rosebriar might do. This wasn't an enemy she could fight. Who's that? What's going on? The insults, though they stung, weren't nearly as hurtful as she expected. Rosebriar was a horrible cat, and she had clearly lost her mind a long, long time ago.

Wolffang pressed against Twistedpaw reassuringly and glared at his sister. He wasn't sure what spirit powers she had. They could very well be in as much danger as Rosebriar threatened to put them in. But, staring at her insanity, her spittle-flecked mouth, her wild eye... How could I have ever loved her?

"Don't come near me or Twistedpaw ever again," he snarled. The stench of crow-food had faded to the back of his mind, unimportant compared to-

A low growl sounded from behind him and Twistedpaw.

Rosebriar's furious face now turned to a smug look of satisfaction. A high-pitched cackle rose from her as she faded away - gone from sight, but still watching the scene as it unfolded.

Wolffang whirled before Twistedpaw had the chance to process Rosebriar's horrible laugh. A meaty reek overcame him.

There was a coyote.

It stood a few tail-lengths away, a menacing silhouette against the cloudy sky. The faint sunlight picked up the red hues in its fur like bloodstains on a battlefield. Yellow eyes glowed as drool dripped from its jaws.

Wolffang dropped into a crouch. He understood it in a heartbeat.

Rosebriar had somehow placed the carrion here to lure the coyote.

"TWISTEDPAW!!! GET BEHIND ME!!!" he roared, shoving the small black she-cat behind him. She squeaked, quickly obeying his orders - and stared in horror as she, too, beheld the creature.

"Wh-what is that?" she whispered, beginning to shake with fear.

The words had barely left her mouth when the coyote lunged.

Wolffang didn't duck out of the way; it would expose Twistedpaw to the predator's fierce jaws. Rather, he reared onto his hind legs and slashed at its face. Thick blood spattered onto his face as the coyote howled with pain and rage, rearing back. Twistedpaw scurried several tail-lengths away. She knew she wouldn't be safe near the fight. But what do I do?! She didn't want to get in Wolffang's way, and besides, he didn't want her to fight...!

The WindClan warrior let out a yowl of pain as the coyote twisted and sank its teeth into his back leg. Blood-scent filled the air as the warm, sticky liquid ran down him, accompanied by agony. Twistedpaw gasped. I can't leave him there!

In a blur of black, she sprang to her paws and raced toward the scene. Wolffang was trying to slash at the coyote's face, but it was just out of reach.

In a daring move, Twistedpaw sank her long claws into its tail. The coyote let go of Wolffang, red dripping from its jaws, to look at her instead.

Wolffang hissed as he sprang to his paws. Fiery pain shot up his leg. He couldn't put much weight on it, but the adrenaline of the fight also rushed through him, numbing the sensation. "Twistedpaw, no!"

The coyote's head rammed into Twistedpaw. She gasped as she was flung backward. It leaped at her, jaws snapping - but Wolffang launched himself onto its back, sinking his teeth and claws into its thick, coarse fur. The coyote bucked and twisted. Wolffang eventually lost his grip and was flung to the grassy earth. It barely broke his fall as his injured leg folded under him, sending a horrific jolt of pain through his entire body.

The coyote lunged again and sank its long teeth into his side. Wolffang howled and pummeled at it with his claws. He had to find a good opening to get back to WindClan, to Leopardsong, and, above all, to make sure Twistedpaw was safe.

Twistedpaw was currently reeling from the blow. The world dipped and swayed, but she managed to get to her paws. Horror thrilled through her as she saw the coyote biting deep into Wolffang's flesh, crimson spilling over his dappled gray fur like a sunset.

"Let go of him!" she cried. Despite her fear, she sprang at it, slicing its nose open.

Though pain clouded his vision, Wolffang felt a thrill of fear as Twistedpaw got so close to the coyote's face. He couldn't let her get hurt-

He managed to tear himself free right as the coyote swung a clawed paw at Twistedpaw. She cried out as it caught her across the chest, leaving bloody marks, though they weren't deep.

Something stirred in Wolffang. A feeling that was all too familiar. But it didn't break until he forced his exhausted, bleeding body to stand up and launch himself at the coyote again.

He wouldn't be able to run back to camp in this state.

But he could make sure Twistedpaw got that chance.

The coyote turned toward him once more. It launched itself at him, pinning him to the ground with its paws. Its weight was crushing. Wolffang struggled for breath. Its horrible reek surrounded him, muddling with his red vision and making him dizzy.

But everything felt clear when he looked at Twistedpaw.

No, Ashfeather.

It felt like his entire life had been building up to this. He'd been horrible, but he'd improved. He'd gotten the chance to live a real life - one as a loyal, devoted, supportive WindClan warrior. A cat who knew his place.

And now he was sacrificing himself for the cat whose life he had destroyed. One last cry to how he'd changed. How the old him was dead, buried in the distant past.

"Twistedpaw, run," he barked. "I'll buy you enough time."

Twistedpaw stared in horror at Wolffang. Tears filled her eyes as she realized what he was about to do.

No.

But the coyote was about to strike.

He was right.

Batglare was right.

She had to fight for her Clan... but there was no point in needlessly sacrificing herself. There was no need to die here. This was a fight she couldn't win.

And Twistedpaw didn't want to see it.

She turned and ran as fast as her paws could carry her.

Wolffang felt a wave of relief as Twistedpaw obeyed his orders and became a black blur in the distance. But that relief was short-lived as the coyote's jaws descended.

They closed on his chest, tearing away a mouthful of fluff and flesh. He gagged at the horrible pain, but he forced his claws to move, forced them to keep slashing for as long as he had strength in his body. Twistedpaw had to get away, warn the Clan.

You may have gotten me, Rosebriar. But you won't get her, he thought, determination searing his veins like fire.

The coyote yelped and dodged his flashing claws. But it leaned forward again, its teeth a blur.

Wolffang felt the crunch as it mangled his front leg. And he felt the rip as it made it to his tender throat.

Pain quickly faded to a sense of being dragged into the deepest depths, drowning, a familiar feeling. Blood filled his lungs with its thick, salty tang. The world went from red to black.

Wolffang looked up.

He could see a faint patch of blue sky.

His favorite color.

But the last thing he saw was an image of Leopardsong's beautiful face, snowy-white fur and unusual brown spots rippling in a gentle breeze, copper eyes filled with joy.

Regret grew in him.

I'm so sorry.

Then his world disappeared.

For good.