Rain Can’t Form Rainbows without the Sun [Solo Post]
~ WOLFFANG OF WINDCLAN ~
Large, muscular, dappled gray tom with light fluff on the front of his neck and chest; amber eyes.
Wind whipped across the moor, whistling in Wolffang's single ear and flattening his pelt like a cold, smooth paw. The long grass swished; flowers grew among it, their bright blooms twinkling in an ocean of green. Aromas filled Wolffang's nose and mouth: succulent fresh grass, the perfume of flora, peat, and something warm and scrumptious. Sunlight gilded it all, its golden heat touching all in a cloudless sky that stretched on forever. Wolffang took a moment to look up at the neverending blue, feeling something loosen in his heart. He didn't care that the sun nearly blinded him. Home - this was his home. The territory might have moved, but its nature and the cats who inhabited it remained the same. WindClan was like a boulder: Strong and unyielding, each change nothing more than a crack or chip to its surface. He inhaled deeply. Ice coated his lungs while the sun sank its comforting warmth into his thick fur, tinting it gold, and it was one of the best things he'd ever felt. WindClan... It was his home. This was his home. He'd been raised here, and he'd die to protect it - but he'd do everything in his power not to pass before his time. StarClan themselves had promised it. And for Leopardsong and Deadmoon... He had to stay alive.
The chill in the air reminded the warrior, once second-in-command to the great Twilightstar, of the task at paw. Greenleaf was drawing to a close. Soon, the winds would become brisker, its cold claws squeezing out all life until the plants became withered and brittle, bright greens drained to dull yellows and browns. Wolffang looked toward the horizon. War loomed there, dark and threatening. He could also scent blood and fish mingling together. The chill seemed colder; his muscles tightened, bulging beneath his thick gray fur. All the more reason to remain focused on my task. Wolffang drew the delicious air over his tongue again. He wouldn't waste time dwelling on dark thoughts. Rather, he'd use them to fuel his hunt.
A strong scent of mice wafted from a patch of grass nearby. Wolffang immediately dropped into a crouch, slowly stalking toward it. There must be a nest of mice nearby. Sure enough, he spotted a burrow carved into the long grass. Mouse scent emanated from it, so overwhelming that Wolffang's mouth watered. He focused more intently on creeping slowly toward it. A tiny pink nose popped up above the ground. Wolffang froze. It twitched but didn't detect him; he was too far away. A pointed snout and an angular, round-eared head followed. It had a brown coat, difficult to spot against the grass, but Wolffang could pinpoint its location even if he were blind. Its scent was so pungent, and he could feel its warmth, hear its tiny heartbeat tickling his ear fur.
He wanted to pounce, yet he waited a moment. He didn't have long, but he could hesitate a little. The Clan needed as much fresh-kill as he could muster, after all. Another head poked out of the nest. There Wolffang swallowed the saliva flooding his jaws, muscles rippling, tensing in anticipation. This would make a tasty meal. Did Leopardsong like mice? Maybe he could give one to her. Or he'd simply put it on the pile and allow someone else to scoop it up.
No matter. He'd decide what to do when he got back to camp. Wolffang waited a moment for the mice to move a little further from their nest. Carefully, so carefully, he crept forward. The swishing of his large, powerful body through the grass must blend with the wind; his broad paws must be placed down lightly. Neither mouse looked in his direction. Closer and closer and...
Wolffang crouched a little lower, then sprang forward. The mice looked up and squealed, but it was too late. One paw smacked squarely on a mouse, breaking its spine upon impact, and the other pinned the tail of the second as it tried to run away. He swooped down, swift as a hawk, and snapped its neck. The mouse's desperate wail was cut off abruptly. Wolffang straightened, satisfied with the catch. This will make a fine meal for the Clan. He took the brace of mice, their still-warm bodies nearly making his stomach growl, and hid them by a distinctively-shaped rock. They fit nicely into a crevice. As a precaution, Wolffang scraped dirt over them.
This wasn't all he'd catch. Wolffang turned back to the horizon, scanning the rolling green hills. Dusky purple and vibrant yellow dotted it. He'd have to keep an eye out for those purple flowers for Leopardsong. She loved the color violet as he loved the color blue. Sky-blue. But for now, he had to hunt for his Clan. He tasted the air yet again, trying to catch the distinctive odor of a rabbit. Their mouth-watering scent, the thrill of chasing them down, the pierce of the wind's chill as it whipped through his fur and whistled in his ears with a ferocity only found during a run... Wolffang craved it. No, he needed it. And the Clan did, too. It was what made WindClan what they were. And the fresh-kill was vital.
He didn't detect anything at first, so he padded forward, grass brushing against his lower legs. The wind shifted, so he moved, too. Then he caught it. Wolffang paused, inhaling as deeply as he could. There. A gamey, earthy scent bathed his scent glands. He immediately looked around. A flash of white shone on the horizon. Wolffang moved closer, slow and careful but not quite crouching yet. Sure enough, it was the rabbit, furry and plump from feasting on greenleaf's growth. Wolffang dropped down, double-checking to ensure he was downwind, hidden by the grass. His dappled gray pelt blended into the territory well enough, but it wouldn't do him much good if he made enough noise or had his scent carried on the wind.
Slowly, Wolffang crept as close as he needed to be. The rabbit had bent down to nibble on a blade of grass. Its pelt was so bright. It was a wonder it had grown to be an adult. Maybe it was good at hiding. Wolffang had to be sure there wasn't a burrow nearby. There didn't seem to be one, but he'd have to be swift.
Then it was time. Wolffang straightened from his crouch and dashed forward in one huge, explosive maneuver. The rabbit's ears perked up as its head jerked toward him. It emitted a squeak and hared off. Wolffang increased his pace, vision narrowing as he focused on the rabbit, though he remained aware of the territory around him. He dodged gorse bushes and rocks poking up out of the grass. His paws pushed in the way he'd so diligently learned against the ground, propelling him forward and maximizing his speed. This was how he'd been able to run so fast despite his large size and sturdy build, along with his lean stomach. He wouldn't have received this training in any other Clan. Wolffang was a powerful fighter, but that didn't make him a bad hunter. He might not be able to run as far or fast as other cats, but he was satisfied with what he could do. He was strong and swift enough, and that was all he could ask for.
Closer and closer he drew to the rabbit, its white pelt flashing against the earthy terrain. Then Wolffang got close enough. His paws pressed against the ground, muscles bunching for a heartbeat before he launched himself into the air. The rabbit looked up and squealed, but there was nothing it could do as Wolffang landed atop it and bit the back of its neck. Fresh blood bathed his tongue, but the kill was clean. The rabbit spasmed and went limp. Wolffang straightened, licking the delicious blood off. This would make a fine meal indeed.
He grabbed the rabbit and walked steadily back toward the mice he'd stashed away. Pride warmed his pelt. This had been a successful hunt. He'd gathered plenty of prey for his Clan. There's nothing I'd rather have than my life here, he thought, certainty warmer than the sunlight as it filled his chest. Providing for my Clan, spending time with my loved ones... I could not wish for anything else. He thought back to all he'd accomplished: Changing his views; serving as WindClan's deputy; fighting out of the darkness of his mind; making amends with those he loved; coming back from the dead. Despite the rabbit he carried, he managed to smile. He'd changed for the better. This was the Clan he loved.
Yet a darker thought crossed his mind. Wolffang felt like a completely new cat, a happy one, a content one, a certain one, a logical one. However, there were many cats who hated him. Resented him. Leechscar would never know about the journey Wolffang had gone through, always resent the words StarClan had given him that had given Wolffang such strength. And Cloverheart... She'd hate him more than she already did if she knew what StarClan had done, if she understood how valued his development had been. Those cats wouldn't give a rat's tail about everything he'd gone through. They'd see him as petty, a waste. Wolffang's stomach roiled. The rabbit tasted like dirt in his mouth.
How can I be so happy, knowing that cats may hate me and will never understand the way Leopardsong, Deadmoon, and all my loved ones do? I have found my place, and I have learned to love, but there will always be those who believe I don't deserve it. Who think I shouldn't have had a second chance or that I'll never deserve one. They'll hate me. All my accomplishments, everything that makes me happy... It means nothing to them. They'll never see that side of me no matter how hard I try.
Wolffang knew actions had consequences. He'd tried to reason with himself, use logic and everything he'd learned to combat it, yet the thoughts kept creeping back, darker and darker each time. It hurt - like a physical pain, it hurt. It means everything to me and nothing to them. Even if I try to make them see, they won't, and it will seem... petty.
He reached the mice and dropped the rabbit, staring up at the neverending sky. It helped him feel better, comforted him. And... It gave him clarity. It was as if a dark cloud had lifted from him.
It's true. My past actions have consequences. No matter what I do, they won't be erased. They'll always be there. I left a stain on so many. Pain clenched his heart, not for himself, but for all those he'd hurt and tormented. He still remembered his thoughts from when he'd trained Cloverheart. The way he'd made Ashfeather suffer was far worse than anything he'd experienced while he'd been deputy. Rather, what they must've felt had been more similar than he realized.
But... It is my duty to learn from my mistakes and change, which I have. I must continue to move forward and live my life to the fullest. I will serve my Clan and those around me; I will not let my Clanmates down, nor will I discriminate against them. I will hold fast to my new self. I may make mistakes, but not the ones I did before. As for Leechscar and Cloverheart... Wolffang took a deep breath, basking in the familiar odors of his territory. His homeland. All the pain, the conflict, the desperation swelled in his chest. Then he let it out, letting the wind carry it away.
The results of my actions will never completely go away. The cats I hurt directly, the loved ones of those I hurt, or those who know of my past self... They're entitled to their opinions. They have every right to judge me for what I did and the stains I left behind. Some cats are irritable, like Leechscar. But I won't let their opinions change me. I won't let myself fret about how they judge me, how they can't feel what I feel or know what I know. It's okay if I feel uncomfortable; it's okay if I'm imperfect. But I won't waste my time worrying and wishing things were different because they aren't. No matter what I do, no matter how much I regret my past actions, I still committed them. I have every right to feel regretful; I had every right to struggle as I learned. So they have every right to hate me, too.
The best I can do is move forward, holding on to my true self. I will show them all that I have changed. And if they refuse to forgive me or if they refuse to accept it, that's fine. I will do the best I can and remain true to myself and my Clan. There are plenty of cats who understand my journey and the accomplishments I've made. That shall be enough. I can't force them to understand or to forgive me. I'll show them my true self. I know I have changed, and I know that my past actions have consequences. If they follow me, so be it. I'll hold my head high and show the world that I've changed - without disregarding my past actions and how they impacted others.
Wolffang looked away from the great blue sky, a fresh conviction in his heart. It felt as if a burden had lifted from his shoulders. Bending down, he slung the rabbit across his muscled back and gripped the pair of mice between his teeth. Then he made his way back to camp. The sun was warm, the wind a constant song in his ear.
This was his home. This was his new self. And, though they might change, he would never lose either.
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