Sweet Songs and Sharp Fangs [P]

[TheNyanCatMinecart]

(CONTENT WARNING: This thread contains descriptions of blood, violence, gore, death, nightmares, ableism, and emotional turmoil. Viewer discretion is advised.)


(To Moonraven: This first post is a setup/some background to the events of this thread. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, as it'll be quite long.)


(Act 1: The Nightmare)

~ 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 hated the forest.

He hated the way the trees stretched above his head, looming over him and casting thick black shadows that filled his lungs with suffocating darkness. He hated the way their branches swayed in the warm wind, promising a sudden and painful death when they fell and crushed whatever lay beneath. They were not sturdy sentinels; they were fragile beasts. Beasts who could be pushed over the edge at the slightest provocation. And above all, he hated the way the trees blotted out the beautiful blue sky. StarClan had blessed them with the blues and open air, the cleansing golden sun that brought forth new life and plenty of fresh-kill to fill hungry stomachs. It was StarClan's gift to the Clans. And the forest spat on it, smearing it over the sky and laughing in its face.

Wolffang's fur bristled along his spine.

The fresh wave of ThunderClan scent, smelling of squirrels and leaf mold, didn't help.

The sturdy, dappled gray tom looked over his shoulder. He wasn't alone. Three formidable Clanmates - two warriors and one apprentice - stood behind him. The first was Lioncloud. Her fur was as golden as the sun, her black underside, paws, and eye dot pools of darkness. Their history had been a little spotty. Wolffang had always viewed her as a worthy WindClan warrior until she began shirking her duties, failing patrols and facing punishments. As a result, Wolffang had talked to her in private, and Lioncloud had promised to do better. I'm sure she will, he thought. She's responsible. Competent.

Then he felt something... odd. A slight stir of discomfort in his stomach, a tension that rippled along his spine. Wolffang blinked. Was it because of the forest? No... he had a distinct feeling that it was coming from Lioncloud. That Lioncloud was causing it. But that didn't make any sense. Why would he be uncomfortable around her? They'd reconciled. Lioncloud was going to be a better warrior.

He averted his gaze to the next cat, Toadpounce. He was more of a shadow than Lioncloud, though he was broken up by large, multi-colored splotches. He was a fantastic warrior, always hard-working and ready to learn. Wolffang held a lot of respect for him. So why, when he looked at Toadpounce, did he feel like something was missing? Like someone would be missing?

Someone? Why someone?

Wolffang wanted to shake his head to clear it, but, as if by some unconquerable instinct, he looked at the third and final - but certainly not least - cat. Fernpaw. Beloved, sweet Fernpaw who had been through too much, seen too much, for someone his age. Wolffang could still see his corpse, stripped of all fur, and the tears in his once-innocent green eyes... The cat who had once presented him with a bird egg, glowing from nose to tail-tip with pride, had curled in on himself. But he was still here. He'd been sent back, and Wolffang was determined to help Fernpaw in whatever way he could. He would be there for him, a steady presence by the brown tabby's side.

I miss him.

Wait, what? What was there to miss? Fernpaw was right here. Wolffang had missed him while he was gone, yes, but...

This wasn't right. He was thinking things, feeling things, that didn't belong. Wolffang turned his attention back to the imposing trees and the stinking ThunderClan border. Lioncloud said she felt off. Maybe that was it. The she-cat's worries were leaching onto Wolffang.

Then a scent drifted into his nostrils. A scent even more vile than the forest, than the broken Clan that lay a few tail-lengths away.

Every hair on Wolffang's pelt stood on end.

"Dogs," he meowed. "We should get out of here." But before he or the others could move, a growl came from the forest. It vibrated through Wolffang's fur, his bones, his soul. His instincts kicked in. He hardly processed his long, sharp claws sliding out, nor did he notice how he put himself between the threat and Fernpaw.

Yet the action felt familiar, like he'd done it before. Had they been in a dangerous situation together?

What was going on?

Then three heads poked out of the trees, wild and mangy and holding dark eyes glittering with death. Bared teeth flashed in the shadowy undergrowth. The warm newleaf air felt like it had been broken by a cold current.

And so had Wolffang's conscience.

For he now remembered everything.

This was his death, and he was reliving it again.

Wake up, he thought, trying to grit his teeth. But his mind held him captive, forcing him to stay in the cage of a memory. His mouth opened automatically, and he yowled, "RUN!!!"

Everything descended into chaos.

There was barking, blood, pain. Strain from Wolffang's muscles as he desperately fought. His tail-tip disappeared, then his ear. Red and metal filled the air, his mouth, the world. Lioncloud was making ridiculous statements, trying to play the hero, running around, not seeming to focus at all on the fight. Resentment pushed through the cloud of pain, so intense he wouldn't have known it was a dream had he not relived it so many times. This was Lioncloud's ultimate failure. After this, there will be no second chances for respect, for friendship. She is not a true WindClan warrior. It was a good thing she'd disappeared. Her former Clan had no use for her.

Then there were two dogs looming over Wolffang, blood dripping from their bodies and jaws alike. Wolffang snarled, every hair standing on end, his veins on fire with determination. But they were too fast. The worst of the pain came as they tore into him. His vision flashed bright red, and when he managed to open his eyes, he was greeted by another shade - a much darker one.

Lioncloud was acting ridiculous. Wolffang ignored her and continued fighting, straining. The anguish had faded into the background. His determination had only tripled, thumping in time to his heart. He wasn't going to let these dogs harm WindClan. No way.

And finally... finally, they were gone.

Wolffang's body felt heavy. His mind was a haze. Blood seared the back of his throat. He knew none of these things were good. I had to get back to camp. I couldn't let them see. Lioncloud was about to disobey his orders, but she was stopped. It was all a blur.

One thing came with surprising clarity.

"Seriously, don't worry about me. A good amount of the dogs' blood got on me."

Fernpaw's green gaze bore into his.

"You don't need to lie to me, Wolffang."

Liar, a voice whispered in his ear.

The dreamscape shifted. Wolffang felt his body tense. For an instant, the blood, the pain - no, the agony - and the horrible scene froze.

Who said that?

Liar, the voice repeated.

Then they were stumbling back to camp, all of Wolffang's senses returning in a blinding burst. He knew all this. He knew what was going to happen.

With each heavy, anguished pawstep closer to the camp - our old camp - dread hollowed out his stomach.

No.

He didn't want to relive this part.

No, no, no.

The worst part.

Wolffang reached the camp. Everything seemed to speed up as he collapsed onto the soft sand. He felt it sticking to his torn, bloody pelt, its original dappled gray coloring vanished in a sea of dark red. His large body shook, hacking up blood that made his throat burn. Cats began to surround him.

A warrior whose face was blurred.

Fernpaw, tears swimming in his eyes as he desperately pressed whatever he could find to Wolffang's overflowing wounds. That was bad enough.

But next came her.

Leopardsong.

His love.

Her copper eyes were filled with horror and tears alike as she stared down at him, shaking and begging him to be okay. The pain he'd caused her, the shock, the distress... It still haunted him.

After everything he'd done, she didn't deserve this, too.

Leopardsong had saved him.

And now he had broken her.

He felt the dripping of her hot, salty tears on his bloodstained fur. He could've sworn he heard them, too. There was nothing he could do to stop them, nothing he could do to make it better.

He'd done this to her.

He'd hurt her.

And this knowledge was worse than death.

Though adding on his abandoning his Clanmates for so long...

It was all unbearable.

I don't want to see this. Please, wake up.

Twilightstar was looming over him now, her emerald-green eye soft. Wolffang knew what was coming. Her promise to him so he could rest, drift away, know that his duty in protecting WindClan was over. For the time being, at least.

But when she opened her mouth, something different came out.

"You were a horrible deputy."

Wolffang stared at her. Once again, the haze of pain faded to the background, his grief morphing into confused shock.

What?

Twilightstar's expression hardened, her mouth twisting into a disappointed frown.

"You were so caught up in your own emotions that you failed WindClan. And emotions over what?" Cold amusement, something he'd never seen from Twilightstar, glittered in her eye. "Treating disabled and impure-blooded cats properly?"

Wolffang wanted to speak, to protest. But his mouth was filled with blood, his mind so heavy. It was purgatory.

"It's pathetic, who you were and what you did. No one should've gone through that. No one should've needed to convince themself to act like a normal warrior. A good cat."

His chest felt like it was being crushed. He didn't know what to say. It was so shocking, so unexpected...

Against his will, his head twisted to the side, and he saw her. Bravebird. Fernpaw's mentor, a beloved warrior, as brave and loyal as her name suggested. Who had died while he was gone, a weight he would carry with him forever. Then she'd come back, her memories wiped clean after a newleaf rain, and Wolffang had stayed away. Stayed away because of duty, because of fear that he didn't know what to say, because he couldn't cope with her memories just being gone.

"I don't remember you," Bravebird growled. Venom dripped from every word, infecting Wolffang's heart and mind with mingled guilt and horror. "But I remember how you made me feel," she continued. "You made me feel lost and alone. You made me cry over your corpse despite trying to punish me after I'd gotten attacked by a badger. You pretended to care about me. You ignored me. Coward."

Wolffang had to speak, had to say something. This isn't right. I always cared about her. I was just... Just...

But the truth kept coming back around. It kept seeping into his bones. It kept spitting in his face. Look at everything you've done, a voice whispered in his head. You made your Clanmates suffer. You weren't there for them when they needed it most. What kind of warrior are you? What kind of cat are you?

Bravebird's image shimmered, and Moorpaw appeared. Moorpaw... Wolffang had tried to reconnect with her before she'd vanished, and where had that gone? But she was still another cat he'd neglected for too long, another cat he'd backed away from.

I'm sorry! he wailed inwardly. I'm sorry! I care about you all! All my life, I've been trying my hardest to be the best version of myself I can be. I never meant to hurt any of you!

Liar.

This voice didn't come from the clearing. It rang in Wolffang's mind, filling every corner and crack with an echo that bounced around his skull.

What? He didn't know the speaker.

The world shimmered, and for a heartbeat, all became dark.

Liar.

The voice was more familiar. More... she-cat-like. Less similar to Wolffang's inner dialogue.

Liar.

A deranged laugh.

And Wolffang found himself standing in the Place of No Stars, thick fog wreathing around him, impossibly tall trees closing in on every side. However, he hardly noticed them, for all his attention was caught on the she-cat standing before him.

Rosebriar.

His estranged sister.

Her StarClan fur glowed and sparkled, strangely beautiful against the dark backdrop, and the very mist seemed to part so she had her own light. Her fur was groomed to perfection, the chest and tail perfectly fluffed up. She lifted one muck-stained paw to her mouth and took a long lick with a pretty pink tongue.

"Oh, look at you, brother. Look at how you've fallen." A pause. "Or should I call you that? Mother disowned you. I disowned you. And you disowned us."

"Because I'm not like you!" Wolffang spat. This place was suffocating, the fog invading his nostrils, the rot overwhelming. The evil oozing from this place made him sick. All his senses were in overdrive. I have to get out of here. This isn't me. I'm not like this. I don't want to go through this again. He had his own life, a good life, and Rosebriar wasn't a part of it.

"Are you sure?" Rosebriar leaned forward. Her single leaf-green eye glowed with intensity, every detail, every scar, visible on the mauled side of her face. "The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, you know. You were just as eager as me to torment Twistedface. You cared about your appearance just as much as I did. You wanted to be handsome. You wanted WindClan to be pure." Her scarred face twisted. "You abused Deadmoon and Morningpaw, too. You're just like me and Featherwhisker. You were, at least."

Wolffang wanted to protest, to block out those horrible memories. But he couldn't. Everything Rosebriar said was true.

"But I'm not like that anymore," he meowed. His voice was a hoarse, desperate rasp. Please, StarClan, wake me up. This is enough! I know what I did wrong!

"But do you? You may have rejected your birthright, but you'll always be one of us," Rosebriar purred. "Changing won't erase the past. Every day, you try to justify your actions. You try to come to conclusions that will make you feel better. But all along, you're just trying to cover up your guilt for doing the right thing. Weren't you? Yes, you were. There's no hiding from it. There's no working around it. You'll always be one of us, Wolffang."

"I won't!" Wolffang protested. None of this was right, none of this was right-

But this didn't feel like a dream anymore. It was real. All of it was real.

The Dark Forest wavered, and he thought he saw Featherwhisker's light-ginger-and-white head before his eyes blazed with stars. StarClan cat surrounded him, wreathed in glory. Wolffang immediately bowed his head in respect. He was going to be sent back now. Right?

A mingled hiss arose from them. His heart sank.

"We made a terrible mistake, Wolffang. You should've remained dead. Then you wouldn't have had to make excuses to uphold your legacy. WindClan was better without you. See how many lives you've affected?"

Wolffang's shock was so deep that he stood bolt upright, amber eyes wide and reflecting the too-bright stars. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. StarClan themselves... They don't think I'm worthy? But they'd said he was before he returned to the Clans...

Wolffang looked at himself, and he gasped. His paws weren't coated in stars. Now they were wreathed in condemning smoke.

Suddenly, he was falling backward, down, down, down...

Leopardsong and Leechscar faced him. Wolffang stared at them, eyes wide and pleading, but already, a ball of dread lay heavy in his stomach. This wasn't going to be good. They were more cats he'd hurt, more cats he'd disappointed.

Leopardsong was glaring at him, betrayal written all over her beautiful, angular face, her eyes dull and ribs jutting out. It horrified Wolffang. Bile rose in his throat. Dark tracks stained her cheeks. He'd done this to her. Leechscar sat tall, full of contempt and self-arrogance.

"What did you die for?" the massive dark gray tom snarled. "A weak-willed warrior? Two vanished toms? Everyone else survived that encounter. Why not you? You were weak, Wolffang. Your death was for nothing. Nobody wants you here. You abandoned me, you hurt Leopardsong, and now you've just come back? None of us want this. You should've stayed dead instead of making everything more complicated." His emerald-green eyes, so much like his mother's, turned into flame. "I hate you."

Desperation filled Wolffang's stomach like rain topping an upturned leaf. Normally, he would've felt furious by this statement, would've reared back with indignance. But his will was spent. He was like a kit who had fallen into the river, battered and frail. Leechscar was right. Everyone was right. This was how they all saw him. StarClan had denied him. His death was meaningless. His return was meaningless.

"Why?" Leopardsong sniffled. Her voice was so small and broken that Wolffang wanted to make it stop. He wanted to wrap himself around her, bury his muzzle into her fur, and promise that it would all be okay. But he had a feeling she didn't want to be near him. She never would. Not after what he'd done.

"Why did you leave me?" Leopardsong continued. Her voice trembled. "You left, and came back, and for what? Your own pride? I always knew you cared more about your Clan than me!" Her voice rose an octave. "All I've ever been is a stick for you to vent to! You use me, then leave me to deal with all your complicated emotions."

Wolffang opened his mouth, but he couldn't talk. He didn't protest. His eyes stung. He trembled all over. He had mistreated her. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me! he wanted to cry. But saying anything felt futile, leaden tongue and closed-up throat aside.

Suddenly, Leopardsong pressed against Leechscar. Wolffang's stomach roiled with a new kind of sickness as Leechscar leaned over, gave her a loving lick, wrapped his tail around her body - so small and frail compared to his - and looked over at Wolffang with a glare. "You don't deserve her. Who was there to nurse her back to health when you so cruelly died? Me. She's my mate now, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Wolffang stared at them, lost and broken. That kit in the river had been tossed against too many stones. Something inside him had been torn wide open, a barrage of emotions held back by the feelings of horrified numbness. It was worse than being ripped apart by wild dogs. Far worse.

This can't be right. I love Leopardsong. She cares about me. She and Leechscar wouldn't... But they would. Because he hadn't been there to fix the pain he'd caused. He'd abandoned her, stuck in the stars with cats he didn't want to call kin. Wolffang could only stare at the two cats miserably, wishing he could disappear, filled with so much agony that he wasn't sure he could bear it.

"You deserve this, you know."

Wolffang turned away from the romantic pair, and his heart somehow managed to sink even further. It was Cloverheart. Her single aqua-blue eye burned with a fierce, passionate hatred, and all her claws were unsheathed.

"You hurt so many cats," his apprentice meowed. Her voice was low, but the undercurrents of rage would be hard to miss. "Ashfeather. Morningpaw. Deadmoon. You even betrayed your own sister, Rosebriar. And ME!" She yelled this in Wolffang's face, forcing him to flinch back. "I don't know how I ever respected you. All you are is a featherbrained, disloyal, dangerous, discriminatory badger-heart. No one cares if you've changed. You still hurt my foster mother. You tortured her. You made her feel like she was living in the Dark Forest. And you expect that to be forgiven or forgotten? You deserve to rot in the Dark Forest. You deserve to be miserable for the rest of your life. Because you made everyone else miserable!"

Cloverheart lunged for Wolffang. Somehow, he had some shred of self-preservation left, for he managed to leap out of the way. He landed hard, and when he looked up...

There she was.

Ashfeather.

It was the cat he and Rosebriar had tormented her whole life, who he had called Twistedface, who he had made feel inferior and depressed and worthless her whole life because of the way she looked and the rogue blood in her veins, something completely out of her control.

Wolffang faced her, trembling, his eyes wide and desperate. All his self-hatred, all his guilt, came spilling out. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I know that will never be enough, but I shouldn't have hurt you. If I could go back, I would. You're fine the way you are. You shouldn't feel guilty about yourself. Someone needed to tell you that for so long, others have told you that, but you wouldn't listen because of me and Rosebriar. I'm sorry, I am."

Ashfeather continued to stare dead ahead, craning her neck back to look him in the eye. "You tortured me. You made me hate myself. You made me wish I didn't exist," she meowed. There was no hatred in her words, only softness, sadness.

All her passion and self-preservation had been beaten out by Wolffang and Rosebriar a long time ago.

"I know. I know." Wolffang didn't know what else to say. This was the beginning of his dark path, of the pain and suffering he'd caused others. She was right in front of him, confronting him for his long list of sins.

"And I still do."

The voice didn't come from Ashfeather. Looking down, Wolffang realized, with a jolt, that Twistedpaw stood there. An exact copy of Ashfeather save for some scars, her unclouded eye was filled with uncertainty and tears. A scared she-cat who didn't know her place, whose innocence had been lost, who was chased by moons of torment.

Yes, she was truly a copy of her predecessor.

He returned his gaze to Ashfeather. She met it.

"I wonder why they sent someone so terrible back."

Then her jaw, already crooked and hanging to the side, unhinged. Before Wolffang could cry out in horror, ashes poured from her mouth, her eyes, her nose, her ears. It swished around him like sand, like that sand in the clearing where he'd bled out. It smelled like something was burning. And then fire raged all around Wolffang, swallowing the two Ashfeathers, consuming him in a world of heat and orange light. He opened his jaws to scream, but he couldn't.

Not as the roof caved in and crushed him beneath layers upon layers of rocks and dirt.

[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

[Moonraven]

Amongst the multitude of slumber bodies, Leopardsong slept cozy and comfortable. A tickling tail had the molly dozily opening her eyelids revealing large copper orbs that peered at the kitten's tail laid over her nose. As much as she loved being a forever, she found herself often woken up by some kitten for whatever reason. It was never on purpose.

Leopardsong fought off the urge to sneeze as she lifted her head away from the tail. She glanced around the dark den, ensuring she didn't have any kittens snuggling with her, and that no one else was awake or needed anything. The one thing she absolutely loved about being a Queen was the feeling of being needed. Not to say that she didn't get the same feeling when she was a warrior, but there was something about being needed by a kit or aiding a queen that surpassed the pride she felt when she did something for the other members.

She felt like she built longer-lasting bonds here like she truly belonged. Yawning, the slender she-cat was tempted to give in to her desire for slumber but was startled out of any type of doziness when heard the sound outside of her. It wasn't all that loud, but in the dead of night, everything sounded louder. Leopardsong swung her head around to check on the cats in the nursery, and then after a long moment of silence decided to check on it.

Careful of where she placed her paws, she managed to make it to the entrance without stepping on tails or bodies ducked her head, and slipped outside. The first sight that greeted her was the hulking tree that towered over the camp. Still, not used to seeing that. Next was the chilly weather and the almost painful icy touch of snow on her once warm paw pads.

It was near the entrance of the camp that she casually found who she was looking for. Fleet-footed, she bounced across the snow towards the warriors' den, eyes briefly widening in alarm as she recognized the large, heavily scarred, warrior. An uncomfortable shudder jolted through her body and caused her muscles to frantically spam beneath her pelt.

Leopardsong had to shut her eyes as the dreadful image of the tom bloody and torn up flashed behind her eyelids. She hadn't had that brought to her mind in a while. Her paws, which had frozen beneath her unmoving, jolted into motion as the molly covered the last few tail lengths between them.

"Wolfie?" Her call came out a little meek than she had meant it to be. "What's wrong? You okay?" She kept her voice a soft urgent whisper as she looked the tom over. He was just lying in the snow, which was alarming cause he didn't seem all that fond of the snow when she tried to get him to play in some seasons back.

"Does something hurt? You wanna go visit the medicine den?" She'd be impressed with how steady her voice was despite the unbridled panic surging through her body, speeding up her heartbeat. The molly gently began poking and probing the warrior in search of something she wasn't seeing when she didn't get an answer as quickly as she liked.

She stifled the urge to start crying as her anxiety got the better of her and began fueling her mind with several things that could be wrong. He wasn't sick, right? He didn't have whatever was killing their clanmates? Leopardsong's paws did a nervous dance in the snow as she began nosing the tom's head, with her ears flat and brown eyes wide with fear. She should just go fetch Cowtuft or Lightningstorm, but she'd feel bad waking them.
@TheNyanCatMinecart

[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.

Wolffang was as numb to the world as his paw pads after being submerged in ice-cold snow. Everything had faded into the background - the cut of the wind through his thick, medium-length pelt, the frost creeping up his body, the dampness of his belly fur. It was all a haze as he struggled to force the tears not to flow. I shouldn't cry. I can't cry. It's weak to cry. Do I deserve to cry? Yes, he did, yet the thought of letting those tears flow made him feel even more wretched. A miserable creature he was, harming others and expecting a wonderful life to be served to him on a bed of heather. Struggling so much, realizing he deserved a good life... then having the full weight of his sins strike him like a hefty blow... Wolffang had thought he'd moved on. He'd thought he'd banished those notions. But now, it was all plain to see. Cloverheart is suffering. Deadmoon carries the trauma I caused her. Leechscar saw what I did to Leopardsong...

I can't erase what I did.

Not to mention all his other failures.

His eyes burned, stinging with salt he suppressed with an iron paw. Ragged breaths clouded the air before him, a vague representation of the muddled guilt and self-loathing in his mind.

He didn't realize anyone was nearby until a soft, hesitant voice called his name. His beloved nickname. Wolffang started, feeling his heart jolt. He'd know that voice anywhere. And the scent, so sweet and comforting and familiar, that wreathed around him... Leopardsong.

Or at least, it normally would've been comforting. Now it - her presence, the timidity of her voice - made it feel like the wolf he'd been named after had closed its jaws around his heart, squeezing so that it exploded in a crimson burst. Wolffang almost couldn't bear to look at her. Would the moonlight catch the silver sheen in his amber eyes? Did he deserve someone so kind and wonderful and beautiful inside and out? I shouldn't cast Leopardsong aside. We've promised to share our feelings with each other. And that was what Wolffang vowed to do. No secrets.

Yet, more and more, he wondered if he should be allowed to feel happy.

Are you hiding from her, Wolffang?

If you're so awful, does that mean you're allowed to have friends?

Leopardsong has been a part of your life for so long. She's saved you. You can't ignore her.

If you cast her aside, you're no better than you were.

I don't want to cast her aside! That's never what I meant! She's more than a thing that makes me happy! Wolffang screeched silently at the intrusive thoughts. Losing Leopardsong was the worst thing he could imagine. She wasn't an object of his development. She was far more than that. Far, far more. And Wolffang appreciated that. He respected her. Loved her.

And I've hurt her so much.

Did he deserve her? Did she deserve him?

Her concerned words only made it feel like the jaws were closing harder on the shredded remains of his chest. Wolffang finally managed to look at her. For a moment, he was stricken by her beauty. The shine of the moon on her snow-white fur, the darker tabby markings stretching like roots across her face, those huge copper eyes dancing with stars... Her nose gently nudged him as concern twisted her face.

This wonderful, caring she-cat... Wolffang had hurt her. Unbearably so.

It wasn't like his bad streak had ended when he'd realized his wrongdoings.

Cloverheart knew that, too.

Something broke in Wolffang. His face screwed up in one last effort to stop the tears from falling, but it failed. His broad head flopped to the snow as he began to cry. No, not just cry. Full-on sob. His body shook and heaved; thick brigades of tears cascaded down his face, their heat extricated as the chilled air kissed them. Wolffang didn't care about being buried alive anymore. He tucked his nose into his paw and just sobbed, letting out his pain, his anguish, his guilt and self-loathing.

There was nothing to hide from Leopardsong. He was never going to hide anything from her ever again.

This guilt and pain... He had to talk to her.

He still didn't know if he deserved her. But he had her. And she had him. That was more than he could ever ask for. She was more than he could ever ask for.

StarClan help him, he loved her so much.

Unfortunately, when Wolffang tried to look at her and speak, something viscous and sticky clogged his throat. He choked on it and only went back to sobbing and shaking, his pain and misery swallowed by the snowbound earth.

@Moonraven

[Moonraven]

This silence dragged on for eons increasing the molly's concern with each second. Why wasn't he answering her? Dread gnawed at the pit of her belly while her front paws danced nervously in the snow. He did eventually turn his head towards her, gold met copper, yet it did not reassure her in the slightest. In fact, his peek only made her more distraught. He appeared so broken, like all the cobweb fractions that made up all his doubts, fears, and negative emotions finally shattered his soul leaving this damaged husk behind.

To reassure herself, Leopardsong did one more visual sweep of the tom's shaking body to ensure that there wasn't any physical damage that one of their medicine cats could deal with. No open wounds or aching scars. She couldn't see anything, couldn't smell anything, and let out a soft sigh in response. Even though she knew there was no physical injury, there was this irritational fear or urge maybe to go and find one of the higher ranks and tell them to fix this. Maybe she just wanted something to blame or yell at.

Sighing softly, Leopardsong shoved down her internal panic and slowly focused on trying to fix whatever it was he was going through. There was nothing a medicine cat could do here that she could. Or at least that's what she told herself as dropped her copper gaze to the sobbing tom. "Wolfie, can you get up please." She meowed, voice taking on that nurturing tone she had adopted from dealing with kits.

"I know something's hurting you, but you can't stay out in the cold. You'll get sick." The molly pleaded, crouching down beside the larger warrior. She pressed her pelt reassuringly against his trembling flank. "Let's go inside one of the dens. We can warm up and talk or we can just sit together." He didn't need to talk she'd just wanted to be some sort of comfort to him and calm him down.

@TheNyanCatMinecart [rushed, sorry, I didn't realize how long it had been since I replied.]

[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.

Cold. He was just so cold.

All his warmth, all his energy, bled out in the boiling tears that formed a never-ending river down his face. It evaporated in every tremor of his body, the freezing wind sweeping across his weakening muscles and filling the cracks with frost. Each heave was laborious. There was no strength left in his body, no power, no warmth, no matter how large or sturdy or muscular he was. Wolffang's air was cut off. He was choking. Choking on snot, on grief, on regret, on old sins. He was all too aware of Leopardsong's lovely gaze boring into his pelt. I need to tell her everything. I need to say I'm sorry. He didn't deserve her, but she was in his life. She knew so much... but not everything. He needed to tell her. He'd neglected it for too long.

Another wave of grief shot through him, the impact shaking him more than if a giant rock had crashed upon his back.

I'm a failure. I'm failing now, aren't I?

He couldn't even talk.

A soft, gentle sigh drifted into his hearing receptors. Wolffang's heart gave a little skip. Leopardsong's disappointed in me. She probably expected this. For him to be unable to hold his ground, to be nothing more than a burden, weighed down by his sins. She didn't deserve to deal with him. And he didn't deserve someone as wonderful as her. What does she see in me? The dream had brought everything to light, and Wolffang couldn't possibly understand how anyone had fostered such a friendship with a cat like him. A miserable cat who had made others suffer.

The thought of her disappointment scared him so much, but why? It was deserved.

Her beautiful voice came next, and Wolffang braced himself for a bitter tone, words spitting retribution - but she spoke gently, as she might talk to a kit. Which made sense, since she was a forever queen. But she was also his friend. She wanted to comfort him, help him. Leopardsong's words had two effects. The first was a profound wave of relief. The other was a stronger barrage of guilt, especially as she pressed her slender, fluffy side against his, so warm yet frail against the freezing cold. I shouldn't have expected her to hate me. She's wonderful. Kind. But was she too kind to someone like him? No, she was sensible, but... but...

It was confusing. Wolffang couldn't deal with all these struggling emotions. He tried to focus on one goal, no matter how many doubts flooded his mind: He had to tell Leopardsong everything. Even as the darkness encroached on the edges of his mind, filling him with fear, regret, and uncertainty. Love and pain still tore at his chest as he managed to lift his head. The water in his eyes, saltier than the sea, filled their amber depths with a harsh silver glow, and dark passages were visible on his cheeks, even in the darkness. His single ear and all his whiskers drooped. He knew he looked like a wreck. But the emotions swarmed him until he was almost numb, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leopardsong had seen him look worse, anyway.

It was difficult to swallow the mucus that coated his throat, even harder after that thought barraged his mind. Leopardsong's face didn't help. The concern glowing in her copper eyes, the understanding, the kindness and willingness to let him say as much or as little as he wanted... How had he gotten so lucky? How had such a wretched cat such as himself gotten so lucky?

"O-okay," he managed, struggling to speak. He forced himself to his paws. His knees nearly buckled, and the world swayed, but he managed to stay upright without falling.

Where would they be safe? Alone, with no one to overhear them? The world knew of Wolffang's crimes, yet... yet he wanted to be alone with Leopardsong. For some unknown, incomprehensible reason, he wanted it to just be the two of them together.

However, that was impossible. They'd have to go into the warriors' den and pray to StarClan that no one woke up. Who cares if they do, anyway? Wolffang thought numbly. Why did he want this to be private? Everyone should know what a horrible, cruel, controlling, ignorant featherbrain he was.

"We can... go back inside," he managed. Wolffang turned his huge paws back toward the warriors' den and stumbled there, sure Leopardsong would follow. So many slumbering bodies, breathing gently or even snoring, awaited him. Unease stirred in his stomach, and his single notched ear flattened briefly; then it unpeeled itself from his head as he looked at an unoccupied corner at the very back.

He managed to get there and collapse in an empty nest that crunched faintly beneath his large body. A whiff of stale scent filled his nose, but he hardly cared. Wolffang hadn't realized how wonderful warmth tasted until he was lying down. The snow crusting his underside melted away, and the body heat of his fellow warriors, though not pressing against him, began to melt away some of his numbness. His thoughts began to sort themselves out, too.

Wolffang looked at Leopardsong. The pain was too much to bear, but... he wasn't quite so befuddled anymore. He sniffled, wiped a frosted paw over his eyes, and sighed deeply, ruffling the light fluff covering his front. Words poured out the moment he opened his mouth. It felt like a release, a reckoning, a condemnation, a confession, a speech, a recounting of history. All of the above.

"I'm a terrible cat, Leopardsong."

He hadn't been expecting those to be the first things to come out of his mouth, but they were. And the words kept tumbling out in a flow of desperation. They were like trapped rabbits clawing at the insides of a collapsing burrow. Wolffang knew that feeling, claustrophobia. So he had to let all the words go so none of them remained stuck.

"All my life, I've hurt others. I've learned that I was wrong, learned that I need to do better, and I have done better. But... but... how can I possibly be happy when others have suffered for my sins? Why is that allowed? I hurt so many. Some are still suffering because of me. It's not fair to them that I'm happy. That I can keep living my life like I did nothing wrong, making friends and hunting and fighting for WindClan."

If the words burst free, why did it feel like jaws were closing on his throat? Wolffang couldn't look at Leopardsong directly, so full of shame was he. His gaze fell upon his paws. With another deep breath, he powered through his closing airway.

"My first crime was tormenting Ashfeather. I had been taught that I should hate cats who weren't of pure WindClan blood or those who had disabilities, but that doesn't justify it. I put those teachings into practice even when I was old enough to know better. I made Ashfeather hate herself. I made her insecure, shy. And I never apologized. She died thinking everyone hated her for who she was. Then there were my half-sisters... First, Deadmoon. I... I taught her this twisted perception of goodness, made her think she had to hate her limp paw to become a warrior. And when Morningpaw became my apprentice, I abused her, verbally and sometimes physically, and she ran away.

"Barleykit ran away to join ThunderClan, so I attacked him. I attacked a kit. He was over the age to become an apprentice, but that doesn't matter. He was defenseless. He passed out, and what did I do? I didn't take him back to the medicine cat. I deposited him by the ThunderClan border for a patrol to find." Some hideous sound escaped Wolffang's throat, and his eyes burned. He sounded awful. No, he was awful. More tears leaked down his face.

There was no way he could look at Leopardsong now.

"I finally understood that what I was doing was wrong when I became deputy. But even so, my first turnaround happened because I wanted the Clan to like me. I wanted them to accept me as deputy. Then, when I challenged everything my twisted brain thought it knew, I broke down. I retreated into his mental... recession." Wolffang found it hard to gather the right words. His voice was choked and quick, interspersed with gasps and sputters, kept low so he wouldn't wake anyone up, but he knew Leopardsong could hear every word clearly.

"Imagine. Having such mental turmoil because I couldn't decide whether I should treat disabled or cats without full WindClan blood properly." A wry, half-hearted laugh squeezed out of his throat, filled with self-loathing. "Some cat I am."

But any pretense of amusement, false or not, faded. He knew he was dumping a lot on Leopardsong. But he also knew she was open to listen. He had to talk. I have to let her know everything.

"That's not it. I've failed everyone. Apologies to Deadmoon and Morningpaw - I still hurt them both, and Morningpaw only went missing again. Morningpaw chose not to forgive me, but to start over, and for good reason. I failed WindClan as their deputy. I didn't do enough. I spent too much time trapped in my own mind. I couldn't get anyone on patrols to act properly. Most of my apprentices vanished. With Leechscar, I never taught him respect, and he hated me - hates me - because of what I did to Ashfeather. My current apprentice, Cloverheart... she's been through the Dark Forest, and she despises me, and she deserves to, because I hurt her foster mother and didn't know how to keep my ego small when I was a warrior.

"Cats returned who I thought were dead, and I needed to talk to them, but instead, I avoided them for too long, and they vanished all over again. Moorpaw, Barleybite, Bravebird - only one of them is back, and I still haven't worked up the nerve. I'm neglecting everyone, those I love, and I don't know how or why. And... and..."

The worst part of it all, the one Wolffang had wanted to say first but hadn't worked up the nerve to.

I don't want to hurt her again. I don't want to remind her.

See? Look how selfish he was.

But he had to.

"Leopardsong... when I died..." He could barely say her name. His eyes wouldn't produce more tears, but they burned. Shadows coated his paws now; the moon must've shifted.

He tried again.

"When I died... I failed so many. I was gone for so long. WindClan. Fernpaw. Bravebird. Twilightstar. I still think of that day. I dream of it. I have nightmares. Being torn apart by the dogs. Pain. So much pain. But the worst part of it, every time... is watching you cry."

There. He said it.

"Despite everything I've done, you've decided to be my friend. I don't know why. I want you to be my friend, don't get me wrong. You're... you're so wonderful and amazing and funny. But..." Wolffang wasn't sure where he was going with this, how he was going to say the topic that weighed so heavily on his mind. One of the topics, anyway.

"I'm so, so sorry for how much I've hurt you. I've been horrible, both to those who I don't know and those who I hold dear. I disregarded you while I was deputy, yelled at you, and then, when I'd finally gotten my act together, I died. You had to watch me. I almost killed you! Leechscar told me what happened, how you almost starved yourself because of me. How you nearly wasted away." The horror at the memory seared Wolffang's throat, and he felt like he might vomit.

"How could I do that to you? It seems like everywhere I go, everything I touch, is a mistake. It only causes more pain, more trouble. No one is safe." Wolffang began to tremble again. His claws slid out, sinking into the musty old moss. "You don't deserve that pain. No one deserves it. How can I live? How can I possibly forgive myself when there are so many who don't forgive me? Who I've hurt beyond repair? All of them, and you, and I-I don't know how I'm here. I want friends, I want to be happy, I want to serve my Clan, I want to talk and play and hunt with you, but I'm a mess, a wreck, a destructive force of nature. I don't..."

His next words were a struggle.

"I don't deserve to be happy."

@Moonraven (WHEW, this was long. I apologize for the length. I felt like just moving Wolffang from one place to another wouldn't give you much substance to respond to, and I wanted to move things along, so I had him talk to Leopardsong. Have fun unpacking all this.)

[Moonraven]

Her paws were freezing, her toes were burning, and small trembles shook her slender form. Leopardsong's pelt was a tad too thin for her to be standing in the cold like this. She could feel her nose starting to run as her ears unconsciously pinned themselves back against her head. She could the wind whipping through the Galewood causing it to groan and creak like an old rock chair. There were tiny little specs of ice floating down, covering her nose and blanketing her pelt in frosty kisses.

Physically her body was screaming at her to leave and warm up, telling her it was too cold to be standing out here like this. Alas, her bleeding heart wouldn't allow her to leave Wolffang like this. A cat would have had to have a heart colder than the bitterest leafbare to want to leave the love of their life like this. So, she ignored her selfish desires and waited quietly for something from the tom. Her teeth quietly knocked against each other creating an annoying chattering sound. Leopardsong locked her jaw tightly to stop the noise, but it didn't stop the spasms from running their course.

It felt like forever until he finally spoke. It was just a mere word, but it sent a burst of warm relief through her core. It was something! As he got to his paws, Leopardsong nearly tripped over her numb legs in her haste. She wasn't sure if her legs had fallen asleep or if the cold had slowed the circulation, they moved sluggishly. She huffed under her breath while frustratingly stuck moving behind Wolffang instead of at his side where she'd preferred. She ignored the sharp tingling sensation in her legs as carefully maneuvered herself around the sleeping bodies of her clanmates.

Leopardsong was mildly envious of their ability to drift off peacefully to dreamland. Yet the emotion disgusted her to such an extent that she shuddered followed not long after the thought. She focused on Wolffang's larger form as he led them to his nest. As he plopped himself down in the worn bedding, Leopardsong settled herself down beside him, pressing her flank against him though leaning far away enough to keep an eye on him.

As he gathered his thoughts, she seeped into the warmth of the den and worked licking at the underside of her forepaws. Blistering pain consumed the nerves in her poor toe beans as she licked and nipped them, getting the blood flowing again. Leopardsong rarely stayed outside long enough for her paws to hurt like this, love made fools of many. It was funny how such a strong emotion could make one disregard their very health. Her body continued to tremble and shake working on the chill in her bones.

Her ears paused in their erratic twitching to catch every sound in the den and turned towards the low hum of Wolffang's voice as he began speaking. As she often did the molly quietly listened and digested his words. He had quite a lot to say, so many worries, fears, and regrets. Some of it she was aware of but a lot of what was said was new to her. She felt her fur prickle with a variety of emotions that she couldn't get into at the moment, too busy processing all this new information.

Her eyes stung by the end of it, and she had to fight back the tears. She wasn't sad, not truly, it was just a lot to take in. The she-cat was silent for a long moment working swallowing down the lump emotions in her throat. So many feelings to feel and not enough space for all of them at once. It was a bit overwhelming, she leaned more of her weight onto Wolffang's side took in a few deep breaths, and exhaled to get her emotions under control. She'd nowhere if she became an overwhelmed sobbing mess with no explanation, she couldn't speak if she was sobbing.

"I don't think you're a terrible cat, Wolffang, and nothing in life is ever fair. You've done terrible things, yes. Hurt others, sure, but the fact that you've acknowledged what you'd done is wrong. That you are wracked with guilt, trying to take responsibility and make amends means something. You're not a terrible cat. You've made mistakes, and have flaws, and faults, just like everyone else. It doesn't mean you don't deserve happiness." It was depressing to hear him speak about himself like this.

"It's not your fault that you were raised as you were. It's hard to break out of a physical that you've known since birth." The fact that he had broken it at all was something. "Leechscar said that Ashfeather died loved to the stars and back by a group of kits she hadn't even birth. She'd died a warrior's death, protecting a group of dumb apprentices who were too close to the border. She died a mother ready to risk it all to protect her loved ones. I think he'd be livid hearing that you think she'd died hated. Cause that would mean she'd died without accepting just how much her surrogate family loved her." Leechscar would have a fit if he heard that. Her tail coiled uncomfortable at the thought of the blood that would be spilled over that.

"Leechscar, I'm pretty sure has a steady hatred of the clan and everyone in it as a whole. I don't understand him sometimes. I'm pretty sure he'd try shredding you if he heard you never taught him respect. He's always telling me that you can't teach respect, it's earned at least for him. Leechscar is not fond of you, but he's already made it clear that he's willing to work with you for the sake of the clan... or his mother rather. You can't fixate on something that you can not change. You need to learn to accept it." Leechscar was a complicated hairball on good days. Leopardsong stopped trying to figure him out a while ago.

"The same as everyone else. Despite your teaching, Deadmoon seems to have become a fine warrior of WindClan. I don't know her well, but it doesn't seem like she had any insecurities about her leg." Deadmoon seemed like one of the most confident members within WindClan, always around at clan meetings and willing to share her input when asked. She put in her share of work on WindClan and has been training multiple apprentices from what Leopardsong knew.

"Morningpaw, Moorpaw, and Barleybite aren't here anymore, and Cloverheart sounds a bit like Leechscar. I don't know what you did to Bravebird, but I'm pretty sure she would have knocked you halfway to StarClan by now if she truly resent you as much as you think everyone else should or does. You've tried to make amends with them and everything that you'd done, tried to be better. It's up to them to accept that you've changed, and if they don't that's okay because you tried. You've taken responsibility for your past actions; you need to let this go or you'll drown yourself in guilt and self-hatred. Rather than seeking forgiveness from others, you need to start forgiving yourself. Accept that you'd done wrong and focus on working to make a better future."

"Those that still want to hate you are going to no matter what you do. You can't let that drag you down, Wolfie. You need to let it go. You made mistakes, everyone has regrets in their lives, and you need to learn to live with yours or they'll destroy you." The molly dropped her head against the tom's shoulder as she spoke, flexing her forepaws as feeling began to work its way back into her toes.

"You didn't nearly kill me grief did. Leechscar just like blaming you because it makes him feel better, I think. I'm fine now, that butthead of a tom helped me, and I'm healthy now and happier than I've been in a long time. It takes some time to process it, but I know you didn't mean to die, and you didn't mean to hurt me. It's not like you were trying to leave me or WindClan. I know that you were only doing what you thought was right."

You're back right where you belong at my side now.

"I don't blame you for how you acted when you were deputy, you were under a lot of stress. Stepping down was the right thing to do with everything you had going on. No one thinks you didn't do enough as deputy, you've never failed me or anyone else. I'm not upset with you even if you think I should be. You don't deserve this anguish any more than anyone else does, yet still you blame yourself." Leopardsong nuzzled closer to Wolffang, if that were even possible, and breathed out a shaky sigh.

"This, what you're doing now, it's killing me, Wolfie. You don't understand―" how much I love you, " how excruciating it is seeing you like this. How can you say that you don't deserve forgiveness and happiness? Everyone deserves that, you, especially. You've worked so hard to better yourself; I know you're doing your best every day. Trying every day, and I know it's hard, and I know there are days like this where you just want to give into all the bad thoughts, and the guilt and the remorse. It's tough, I can only imagine how rough it is for you. But one day you'll be able to breathe easy, to accept your faults, your mistakes, and your flaws, and forgive yourself."

"You've taken responsibility for the things you've done, you've regretted them and learned from them. What more are you expecting from yourself? You shouldn't have to live in misery for the rest of your life. I don't want to see you stuck like; I don't want you unhappy." How was she supposed to stay by his side if didn't believe he deserved to be happy?

All Leopardsong wanted to do was stay by his side and give him all the affection and happiness in the world that he deserved. Wolffang wasn't perfect no one was, mistakes were going to be made, and change was going to happen, it was a part of life. Just because he some bad things didn't mean he should resign himself to a life of suffering and self-loathing. But how did she make him see that?

@TheNyanCatMinecart [I made you a mini-novel too! I finished super late last night, so in my opinion not my best. It was fun to write though. Reminded me how much I ship these two.]

[TheNyanCatMinecart]

(This reminded me of how much I ship these two, too! It's hard to believe it's been almost three years since they first met. I often feel guilty about how much turmoil Wolffang's temporary death caused - it delayed their getting together and almost broke them apart. Poor Leopardsong. She went through a lot. So did Wolffang. However, their overall character development and dynamic have become even richer, and it's taught me a lot about roleplaying! Even though I never expected a Warrior Cats roleplaying website to get this deep- Also, your post is wonderful. I couldn’t ask for a different one. )

(If you want your next post to be shorter, that's absolutely fine. I have a feeling you'll be the one to break the mini-novel chain, not me. By the way, I am so sorry for the wait. Lack of motivation and a huge influx of writing anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks. My parents had a movie on in the background for a chunk of the post, too, so I apologize if it sounds off at all - though I’ve edited the first half of this post to hell and back. The second half will probably be less edited because I want to get it out, but that won’t stop me from stopping every two sentences and looking over it. This post is super important to me, and I really don't want to mess it up. Would you be okay with telling me how the post sounds/how it comes off if you have the time? It would help to give me some perspective if I understand what my characters/writing sound like to an outsider.)

(One last thing - Wolffang doesn’t speak until much further down, so if you want to skim the post up until you see the bolded text, that’s perfectly fine by me!)


~ 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.

As soon as the last syllable slipped from Wolffang's lips, a wave of exhaustion hit him like a rockslide. A sigh hollowed out his lungs as he sagged against the stale nest. His powerful shoulders sank like a stone in the river. Scratchy moss and brittle grass prickled his flesh. His collapse filled the air with decaying plant particles that tickled his nose, but it only managed to twitch. He didn't have the energy to tremble anymore, let alone sneeze. But the exhaustion wasn't just physical. The emotions tumbling around his head had sapped the last of his strength, and they were still taking, using reserves he didn't have to fill his psyche with every negative emotion a cat could muster. Depression. Guilt. Grief. Desperation. Anger - at himself, not anybody else. Certainly not anybody else.

Yet his emotions were muted. Now that he'd spewed words like rain from heavy black stormclouds, clawing up his throat with talking and tears, he was a puddle in a desert. Dry. Empty. Awaiting his reckoning. Would the sun shine relentlessly, wringing him out and filling him with cracks, or would he be replenished by life-saving water? Wolffang felt like he wouldn't ever be restored. A wretch like him had been far too lucky thus far. He didn't deserve anything else. So why was he so desperate? I have to do something with myself, he thought. That was why he'd spoken to someone.

Leopardsong.

How many times had she seen him like this: broken and emotional, trying to cope with his reckoning? And how many times had she suffered as a result? The mucus in his throat became suffocating, and he almost choked on snot and anguish alike.

She'd been on the receiving end of his screeching, forced to endure an endless barrage of emotions that he'd kept pent up for moons.

Her tears had seeped into his fur as he'd lain dying, mingling with the blood matting his mutilated body.

And just now, he'd seen her shivering in the cold, the moon highlighting her flattened ears and gleaming on the snot running down her perfect face.

How much had she suffered for him? Was Wolffang meant to bring down every cat who loved him? Was that their punishment - helping someone as horrible as he?

No, no, he didn't want to hurt Leopardsong. But he didn't want to drive her away...!

It was all too confusing. So, he kept his mouth shut and waited. Leopardsong had been quiet for a while. Does she hate me now? he wondered. Surprisingly, the thought flitted away. No. She wouldn't. She's too kind to me. So kind... so supportive... so wonderful...

Did he want her to hate him? The thought was unbearable. But if it keeps her safe... Then why had StarClan sent him back if they just meant to punish those who tried to help him? It didn't make any sense. They wouldn't do something like that. Right?

StarClan, help him. He needed help.

From his beloved.

The cat in this world whom he trusted the most.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, a cushion of feathery fur pressed against his muscle-hardened side. A slight jolt of shock ran through Wolffang as he felt her warmth seep into him, more profound than the body heat rising from the sleeping warriors he'd forgotten surrounded him. Then he relaxed and leaned against her. Fluff tickled his whiskers. That familiar scent wreathed around him, flowing into his nose and mouth and painting a layer of comfort over his troubled mind. Rabbits, grass, heather, milk... The milk-scent was new, but he didn't mind. Not one bit. It was still her.

Then her sigh brushed the tattered nub of his right ear, and dread tore up Wolffang's insides. He struggled to swallow the thick slime in his throat as he tentatively glanced at Leopardsong. Those claws moved to his heart as he glimpsed the silver lining her copper eyes. I've upset her. All of his previous fears and doubts, which had been quelled by his love's soft fur and familiar scent, came crashing back down. He could almost feel his bones shatter from their weight. Why am I like this? Leopardsong, I'm so sorry...

He opened his jaws, apologies poised to spill from his tongue. But he never got the chance to speak. Leopardsong beat him to it.

"I don't think you're a terrible cat, Wolffang."

That was the last thing he'd expected to hear from her. Or was it? Hadn't he just been thinking about how kind she was toward him? How lenient?

This new barrage of emotions - doubt, surprise, happiness, love - was quickly pushed aside as Wolffang's amber gaze fully fixed on Leopardsong. Slowly, hesitantly, his notched ear canted forward to pick up her voice, soft beneath the rhythmic breaths and discordant snores emanating from his Clanmates. Her words were a lifeline. His only hope. The only way he could figure out what to do as he lay in this grave of sins he'd dug with his own four paws.

What did she mean that "nothing in life is ever fair"? So many implications lay behind that sentence. Did it mean that him getting to live and be happy was an example of how life didn't favor the good over the bad? That was true... but then why had StarClan sent him back? Or perhaps it meant that life hadn't been fair to him. But that didn't make sense. It had been far too fair.

...Had it?

Wolffang didn't get much time to dwell on this, for Leopardsong swept on like the undulating wind. Not that he minded. His head needed plenty of time to process... all of this, really, and the more her words filled his mind, the more he began to feel like he could work through this. Understand this. With her beside him, it felt like anything was possible.

Leopardsong acknowledging that he'd done terrible things helped him relax a little more. He should never have expected her to be naive, foolish, blindsided by her emotions. You should expect more of her. That familiar pang of guilt shook him.

Yet she was still giving him much to puzzle over, to pick apart piece by piece. Wolffang had a feeling he'd never forget any word that came out of her mouth tonight.

So, he listened, chewing on every remark, every piece of insight, that the Snow Bengal provided.

He was guilty and trying to fix himself. That meant something. A tiny piece of the burden that lay heavy upon his mind lifted like a mosquito deciding it had taken enough blood. That's... true. It was far better than remaining the way he’d been. He’d done so much to improve himself. He’d even been proud of how far he’d come. However, that didn't erase the past. It didn't stop him from abusing Ashfeather, Deadmoon, Morningpaw, and Barleybite. It didn't stop him from neglecting Bravebird and Moorpaw. It didn't stop Leechscar and Cloverheart from hating him. He commanded love and respect while others suffered and festered in the shadows he’d left behind.

Still, hearing Leopardsong put it like that... it allowed the slightest bit of self-positivity to light his shadowed mind. I'm trying. I have tried.

Leopardsong also made a point of saying that everyone had faults and flaws. That made Wolffang frown. He couldn’t help a slight shake of the head and a brief glance at his huge paws. Yes, everyone made mistakes, but his were worse than most. And I didn’t think of them as mistakes for far too long.

He also hesitated when she explained that it wasn't his fault he was raised the way he was. Featherwhisker engrained those teachings into me. But, despite the environment I grew up in - supportive of cats with disabilities and those without full WindClan blood - I made the continuous decision to act upon them. I was a full-fledged warrior. I should've been wise enough to make my own choices. Pain punched him in the chest and moved to his gut.

Wolffang knew he should blame himself. And yet something tugged at the back of his mind. Something that offered a bit of relief. He couldn't grasp it, though, no matter how hard he tried. A wall of mental matter held him back from accepting it.

What he learned about Ashfeather was a bit of a shock. He blinked, amber eyes flashing in the shadows of the night-bound warriors’ den. So, she hadn't died feeling awful? Despised by everyone? She found peace? Of course Leechscar would know that. He was one of the adopted kits she'd raised. A smile tilted the corners of his lips upward.

Ashfeather hadn't wholly hated herself. She'd been happy.

No thanks to me.

Wolffang’s smile faltered. He'd made it difficult for her to be content, to enjoy life. But surely... surely his improvement had helped her out? Without a constant outer presence biting at her heels, it must've been far easier to feel that acceptance. To realize she'd been loved.

As she had deserved to be.

Leechscar had just come to the forefront of his mind when Leopardsong delved more into the wayward son of Twilightstar. Part of him was comforted to hear that Leechscar was difficult with everybody. I don't understand him, either, he thought, his big ear twitching at Leopardsong’s words. He embodied nearly everything Wolffang hated... but he had some respectable traits. Common sense. Protectiveness. An understanding of helping his Clanmates even if he felt little to no loyalty toward them.

Hearing confirmation from the cat he feared would become Leechscar's mate that Leechscar was always a butthole made some of his uncomfortable emotions abate, but Wolffang also couldn't help wondering if he could've found a way to earn Leechscar's respect. Probably not, he reasoned. He doesn't respect anyone except his family. Where would Wolffang be if he'd held onto that ideology, sticking to Featherwhisker and Rosebriar like a honeybee to its hive? A shudder ran through him at the thought.

However, he couldn’t help feeling a trickle of guilt. Leechscar’s reasons for hating him were both valid and invalid. He was forever a reminder of Wolffang’s mistreatment of Ashfeather and how that would never go away. How would I feel if someone hurt Leopardsong like that? Constantly abused her, making her feel hated and inferior? The thought filled him with such rage that he nearly choked on it. He wanted to rip out that cat’s throat and watch their blood soak into the grass. He’d relish in the choking breaths they tried to take as their lungs filled with red-hot liquid. He’d look right into their eyes as their soul left their body, heading right for the Dark Forest, where it belonged. For a brief moment, he related to Leechscar. I’d hate myself, too.

How could Wolffang move past that? The answer was never. He’d hate that cat forever. As Leechscar would hate him forever. He deserved it, but... that was okay. Wolffang knew himself better than anyone. He regretted what he’d done, and he was fixing himself. Leechscar’s hatred would just be a part of life - one he’d accept. There was nothing wrong with disliking Leechscar back for his... other loathsome ways, but Wolffang wouldn’t let that guilt grate on him until all his fur was gone. And he wouldn’t blame Leechscar for hating him because of Ashfeather.

Leopardsong was right. He had to accept their rivalry. Leechscar’s hatred was something he couldn’t change, and if Wolffang forever let it plague his mind, it would forever weigh him down.

Weigh me down. Wasn’t all of this weighing him down?

But Wolffang had figured one thing out. He needed to figure things out. So, despite the discontent nipping at his heels and telling him that he deserved to suffer, he took a deep breath and let the burden of Leechscar drift into the warm air of the warriors’ den.

However, there was more. There was always more. Too much that Wolffang had done, too much that had come back to haunt him tonight.

He wasn’t sure what to think about Leopardsong’s analysis of Deadmoon. She had become a fine WindClan warrior, despite going missing a couple times. And she had trained multiple apprentices, including Snowybreeze, who Wolffang respected greatly. However, her insecurities hadn’t gone away. Wolffang knew that much. Deadmoon always acted a little awkward and uncomfortable, especially around other cats. How could I have done that to anyone? He bent his head and gave his chest fur a few quick licks to hide his awkwardness. It tasted of slime and saltwater.

The dappled gray tom looked back up when Leopardsong moved on to Morningpaw, Moorpaw, and Barleybite. They aren’t here anymore. A pang of remorse rattled the shameful warrior. I should’ve been faster. And yet his friend spoke a brutal truth. She’s right. They aren’t here anymore. There was nothing Wolffang could do about it now. He couldn’t travel back in time. Not even StarClan could, and they were the most powerful beings to ever exist. If he was to keep living, to do anything about this... He had to improve. Keep moving forward.

Yet it still burdened him, how someone who had made others suffer could live with a smile on his face and move on.

As for Cloverheart... Well, she’d be difficult, but she followed the same principle as Leechscar. It was her choice on whether to accept his changing or not, and she was also the master of her own actions. She could think what she liked about Wolffang so long as she didn’t try to cause any problems. Like he’d caused problems for Ashfeather. Was that hypocritical? I can’t change the past, he reminded himself. And I can deal with the consequences. I can’t let this burden drag me under the water until I can’t get back up.

She was totally right about Bravebird. If she hated Wolffang, she would’ve made it very apparent. However, she remembered nothing about him - except his initial defense of Cowtuft at his exile, which she hadn’t liked. He winced. I’ve been lazy and irresponsible. A sorry excuse for a cat, let alone a warrior.

“You've tried to make amends with them and everything that you'd done, tried to be better. It's up to them to accept that you've changed, and if they don't that's okay because you tried. You've taken responsibility for your past actions; you need to let this go or you'll drown yourself in guilt and self-hatred. Rather than seeking forgiveness from others, you need to start forgiving yourself. Accept that you'd done wrong and focus on working to make a better future."

Wolffang’s eyes began to burn. He thought he’d run out of tears, but somehow, his body was managing to produce more. Leopardsong’s face became a blur of bright white and dark brown, mud on snow.

"Those that still want to hate you are going to no matter what you do. You can't let that drag you down, Wolfie. You need to let it go. You made mistakes, everyone has regrets in their lives, and you need to learn to live with yours or they'll destroy you."

His breathing became jagged. Emotion - so much emotion - welled within him when he thought his stores had been exhausted. Especially when Leopardsong’s sweet head rested against his shoulder... His heart nearly burst. Blindly, like a kit seeking its mother’s comfort, he rested his head atop hers. Her words circled in her mind as she paused to nip at her toes.

Wolffang kept feeling guilty. He kept calling himself a pathetic warrior. But he could find no fault with Leopardsong’s words. They rang with a truth so profound that not even the most lost of cats could turn away, and his previous thoughts returned, but with a sense of clarity this time that could pierce the darkest of shadows.

He had tried, and he was trying. Wolffang had done everything he could - truly, everything - to be a better warrior. A better cat. He’d apologized, worked on himself, accepted that he was still learning how to navigate the wreckage of the world. There was nothing Wolffang could do to change the past. StarClan knew he wanted to. And it hurt, knowing he’d hurt others. However... I’m alive. Life doesn’t favor those who have remained good and those who haven’t, but I was given a second chance. A second chance because I improved myself, worked on myself, knew what I had done was wrong and tried to move past it. Others might not have, but... I must live my life.

This thought unlocked a chasm that Wolffang had been holding back from or avoiding entirely, one he hadn’t thought himself worthy of. A faint smile played across his face. Unbridled gratitude shown in his amber eyes, so bright against the darkness of the den and the plainness of his solid gray face.

He couldn’t waste precious moments wallowing in guilt and grief. Yes, what he’d done was wrong, and yes, he’d have to live with the consequences. He deserved to. But Wolffang had broken away from his mother’s teachings - yes, she had been the one to plant them in his mind, to put his paws on this path, but he still held himself responsible for his own actions - and learned how to be a true cat. He had faults, flaws, even after he’d gotten better, but so did everyone. Wasn’t that the mantra he always went by before his dream blew him out of proportion?

Suddenly, it seemed like... like there might be a way out. A way to be happy, to live his life, to accept his wrongdoings and the fact that there were those who lived in pain because of them. But he couldn’t change it. The best he could do was keep going, keep being a better cat.

But how long until his guilt came back? How long until he began to hate himself again? His smile faltered slightly. Already, he could feel those gazes boring into him, emerald-green and aqua-blue...

Wolffang desperately grabbed onto his resolve. I can’t let it slip away. Not now that I’ve figured myself out. At least, for the time being. Cats grew and changed all the time. He would keep changing and growing. He’d accepted that. But he didn’t want to forget this conversation, let it slip from his mind, spiral back into doubt. He didn’t want to be unstable. Teetering at the edge. He wanted - no, he needed - a way to move on with himself without letting the constant reminders of his past push him over the edge. To accept it and move on with his life, knowing he would never be fully pure and that some would know nothing - or refuse to know anything - of his efforts.

The conversation wasn’t over, though. Leopardsong had moved onto the other major part of Wolffang’s grief: everything he’d done to her. He couldn’t help a slight stab of satisfaction when she described Leechscar as a “butthead of a tom.” Yeah, he was.

But Leopardsong’s words brought a sense of relief much more intense than the insult toward Leechscar. Grief did. Grief did a lot to cats, Wolffang was learning. And, though it still pained him to think of how sick and frail she’d become because of his death...

Your death was a terrible accident, Wolffang.

That was what StarClan had said to him. It had been an accident. Not his fault. And, if it wasn’t his fault for dying, then it wasn’t his fault for Leopardsong’s pain. The dogs should be blamed for that. As for yelling at her... He had been going through a lot. It took a ton of mental strength and energy for a cat to turn away what they’d been told their whole life. That didn’t make it right, but Leopardsong understood. And Wolffang understood. The thought that other cats might not understand was terrifying and upsetting, but not everyone would.

It was amazing, how much talking to someone else helped. How clarifying it was. And he’d made these realizations faster because he’d had the foundations built up already. He’d just been too rattled to accept them.

But would he ever be able to stand on his own four paws? What if he delved back into that cycle of self-hatred? It was so hard, even with wonderful cats like Leopardsong to talk to. He’d still committed crimes, still hurt others who were forced to carry their burdens and watch him walk by every day with a smile on his face...

Leopardsong somehow managed to shuffle closer, and he somehow managed to press himself deeper into her long fur. She was so warm, comforting, familiar, beautiful... Once again, he felt like the luckiest tom in the world to have her. She’d helped him work through this, maybe accept himself, yet he couldn’t help thinking that, once more, he didn’t deserve this. Yes, he’d been revived. Yes, he’d bettered himself. But - as he kept stating - the past couldn’t be changed. Why not give this luck to a better cat? Someone who hadn’t made this many mistakes?

Then a shaky sigh ruffled his whiskers, and Wolffang blinked in mingled surprise and alarm, fixing his gaze on Leopardsong. Her face was contorted into a look of pain. His eyes widened. What’s wrong? he wanted to ask. He thought this was a happy moment, but it seemed he was wrong.

Wolffang had only just opened his jaws to speak when Leopardsong burst out what was on her mind. He stiffened, every muscle frozen in shock.

That was truly the last thing he’d been expecting.

Whenever he thought of Leopardsong being upset because of him, he thought back to his neglect, his yelling, his death. All of those things had been resolved now, of course, but... he hadn’t thought of this. Pain because he kept hating himself. Tearing himself apart for his crimes, micromanaging everything he did, always feeling guilty.

For a while, he didn’t know what to say. Was he really hurting her by... by being upset with himself? He had to be. She wouldn’t lie. He knew that.

There truly were no more tears left.

Wolffang stared down at his paws, hoping they had an answer for him, but they remained silent, nestled among the musty moss as he was in Leopardsong’s fur.

I’ve hurt so many. But... but...

He almost wanted to think I deserve pain, but wasn’t that what Leopardsong was upset about? Him thinking he would never be worthy of happiness because of what he’d done? Me thinking that I shouldn’t be allowed to have this much luck or friendship because of what I’ve done?

His thoughts came back in a rush.

He couldn’t change the past

He’d focused on self-improvement.

He’d denounced his mother and sister’s ways.

He’d apologized.

He’d lived every day knowing that he could be a better cat.

But being better didn’t mean wallowing in guilt. It didn’t mean letting life slip by, using the time StarClan had given him back to hate himself and think about how much he didn’t deserve happiness because others were unhappy.

He had to move forward. Live life. Be himself. Keep growing and improving and learning. Not let guilt consume him. Wolffang would deal with the consequences of his actions. That would be punishment enough. He was allowed to be happy.

It was a reward, he realized. Not for what he’d done, but for moving past it.

And looking at the pain on Leopardsong’s face, Wolffang swore that he wouldn’t forget this. He wouldn’t ever devalue himself as not being good enough or let thoughts of the past consume him. Life moves on. So must I. Such was life. He had a chance, and he needed to take it. It would do no one any good to keep hating himself for things he couldn’t change.

What to say? Where to begin? So much had been said.

He took a deep breath and decided to address the most immediate issue. “Leopardsong...” His voice was husky with emotion, and his throat was sore from crying. Not to mention the mucus still clogging it - and his nose, too. He sniffled, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Leopardsong, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” He took another deep breath. How was he supposed to structure everything he felt into one comprehensive monologue?

“I’m... I’ve... Your words have helped me realize a lot tonight. You’re right. You always are. It’s... it’s been so hard, trying to act every day like it’s fine, I’m okay, when I keep thinking of every sin I’ve committed and every task I’ve failed at. What I’ve done is worse than most. But... I can’t hate myself forever. Life moves on, and it always will.” The words seemed so simple compared to the emotional monster he’d just ridden. “I wasn’t a good cat, but... I can be now. I’m trying. Often, I forget that, and I need to be reminded of it. But, from now on, I’ll remember that StarClan sent me back for a reason. Because I was learning to be good, because I was able to move on from my sins and become a better cat. I forget that sometimes, but it’s true. I... I am good.”

Surprisingly, the words weren’t difficult to say once they began to slip from his mouth. He was a good cat.

“That doesn’t mean I was always good,” he stressed, “but that’s the whole point of improving. I can’t change the past. I can’t take back what I did to Ashfeather or Deadmoon or Morningpaw or Barleybite. I can’t pretend Leechscar and Cloverheart don’t hate me. I can’t pretend that everything I did was okay. But... I understand now. It’s okay if they hate me. You’re right: it’s their choice of whether they wish to forgive me or not. They don’t have to. I hurt them, after all. I’d deserve it. But, if they do forgive me... I’ll deserve it, too, because I am trying to be better. This isn’t easy or simple, and I’ve been learning that for many seasons.”

His mind flew through everything they’d discussed and everything she needed to know. Leopardsong was clever, but she wasn’t a mind reader. “Featherwhisker raised me a certain way, and you’re right that she was the one who planted those ideas in my head.” A fresh wave of loathing for his mother overtook him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I acted out when I was a full-grown warrior, surrounded by an environment that supported everything my mother and sister hated. Deadmoon... she's more insecure than she seems. She always gets uncomfortable when I mention our past or try to apologize for it. And I see the way she glances at me. She isn’t sure yet.” A gusty sigh escaped the large tom. “That’s what hurts so much: being constantly reminded of everything I’ve done wrong. Always having the past follow me around. But it’s bound to, isn’t it? Those are the consequences of my actions. I must live with them.

“But that’s not saying I don’t deserve to be happy,” he added quickly. “I... I have a very complicated past. A complicated character. I’m bound to face these struggles. But, after all these seasons, having grown so much... and with you by my side... I know I can face them. You’ve put a lot of my fear to rest, especially about Leechscar and Cloverheart. It’s difficult, but I know they’re complex, and their hatred of me runs deep. I won’t let them weigh me down, not out of ignorance, but because I understand their feelings. I can’t be loved by everybody. I can’t wipe everything away. But I can do better.” Perhaps that was part of why it was so difficult to get over their hatred. A part of his egotistical self had somehow survived. But now it was time for that to go.

“I-I know I must be stumbling over my words a lot and repeating myself, but... you’ve helped me figure out what matters most. I’ll acknowledge what I did wrong, and I won’t let it weigh on me. I won’t hate myself. Because I...”

His next words were not a struggle.

“I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be with you. I deserve to hunt and fight for my Clan, to make friends, to smile. I’m not perfect, I never will be, but I’ll do whatever I can to be a better me. If I always tear myself apart... well, I’m wasting the life I was granted. I have StarClan to thank for sending me back. And you, Leopardsong, for keeping me here. Thank you for being so understanding. For sticking by me. I’ll always be there for you, no matter what.”

@Moonraven (I am NOT editing this last part. Four hours of Day 3 writing this, and my head is too dead. I want to get this out. I really, really hope Wolffang’s emotions progressed realistically and that this is okay. And I am so sorry for the novella I just wrote. Kind of.)

[Moonraven]

Leopardsong felt a long silence settle after she spoke. She faintly wondered if she had said too much. When speaking her mind, she didn't worry about it often, but there was always room for misunderstanding or miscommunication. Her tail tip twitched back and forth behind her while she leaned against the tom's sturdy frame. The chill, which had frost forming on her whiskers, had been chased away. She listened to the soft breathing of the cats around her, trying to chase away the worries that consumed her mind.

When she finally heard him speak, she had to resist the urge to purr a response to her name. The white bengal smiled softly at the gratitude he offered. Embrassement struck her like a bolt of lightning once her emotions caught up to her brain, she wished she didn't blush so fast, that she had some ability to keep her emotions to herself. In an instant her ears were rosy and her feelings were as clear as if she wrote them in little notes and handed them out. She pinned her ears back and ignored the urge to scratch at her pelt as heat boiled beneath it. Not a trace of cold bothered her now.

Even though she felt the urge to remind him that she was not always right, she took the compliment for what it was and listened to his voice. Leopardsong sat back and let the happiness soak right into her bones. The happiness was infectious. It starts as a tingle in her paws and toes, much like the feeling she has when she is anxious, but instead of worrisome it's warm. She felt it pass through her like a warm ocean wave, washing away the stress and leaving her refreshed inside. As the wave fades she savours the memory of its gentle touch. She wanted the feeling to remain when she was old.

This was all she wanted from Wolffang, to let go and to understand that even though he couldn't fix all the mistakes he'd made in the past, what truly mattered was that he had learned from them and was trying to be better. Not everyone would acknowledge that, and not everyone else would accept it, so long as he knew that he was trying, everyone else around him would have to deal with it.

Relationships were fragile things, once broken, they were hard to fix. No matter what you use to glue the pieces back together, there will always be some cracks that would be unmendable. She couldn't say anything about Leechscar, since it didn't seem like he and Wolffang had ever had a good let alone a decent relationship. But with Deadmoon it was different. She hoped that one day the molly could come to accept Wolffang as he was, but if she didn't then that was alright too. If the pair just tried to mend their relationship it would help them both in the long run, rather than letting all the bad fester and hurt their souls.

"Everyone deserves happiness so long as they acknowledge their wrongdoings and at least attempt to make some atonement, even if it's small. You don't deserve to be punished for the rest of your life for it. I'm happy that you got that through your thick head." The she-cat trilled, lifting her head from his shoulder to give her chest fur a few embarrassing licks. He was going to kill her with all this gratitude he was heaping on her. It was like he wanted her to boil over or something.

"Of course you deserve me, naturally, I'll make you the happiest. You'll stick with me, and I'll stick with you. Together we'll be the happiest pair in WindClan, and we can tease Leechscar. I swear he's allergic to happiness." She jested lamely. "But in all seriousness, I'll be holding you to that. You better be always there for me. Don't go places I can't follow." She mewed with a soft yawn. There was this certain sense of contentment now that she got Wolffang in a better mood.

As if the stars themselves deemed the task that kept her awake done, exhaustion swept over her. It could be tiring ensuring that the love of her life wasn't drowning in a sea of doubts and depression. But it wasn't like she'd ever complain about it or stop. She'd pick Wolffang up repeatedly, weather every storm or hurricane plaguing him, bare her claws and fangs at all of his demons that threatened his happiness, so long as it felt like she was making progress. Who wouldn't when you were as hopeless in love as she was?

@TheNyanCatMinecart [Alright so I broke the cycle! I did not realize it's been so long pushing to get these two together. How time flies. These two deserve each other after everything they've been through. I found it hard to keep Leoardsong from blurting out all her feelings for Wolffang here. Her words were a little off since I had to delete and re-type those a few times. Despite the anxiety, I'm pretty content with this post. ]

[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.

Wolffang wasn't sure if there were any amount of words that could possibly describe how he felt. Every piece of him - from the hairs on his pelt to the fragments of his soul, welded together by the she-cat beside him - burned with an emotion so profound he thought StarClan itself had breathed it into him. And maybe it had. In this beautiful, precious moment, the world had healed. There was no more sorrow, no more pain, only abounding joy that frolicked like a rabbit in a field of wildflowers. Yet the feeling wasn't frivolous. There was nothing shallow or silly about it. His life had been renewed in the way that mattered most. The dark deeds and regrets that had nipped at the back of his mind ever since his early days as deputy would no longer drag him toward that unending abyss of self-loathing. He was Wolffang, a warrior of WindClan and a rebirthed soul, imperfect but now blessed with a complete understanding of himself and his life. There was nothing he would ever take for granted again.

The large, heavily-muscled tom looked Leopardsong directly in the eyes. He was sure that their amber depths shone with every emotion raging through his body, not just the joy at being freed of his burdens. His love for her must've been as plain as a cardinal in the snow. Every time he looked at her, he felt like his breath had been stolen from his lungs. She... she was so beautiful. Her copper gaze glowed in the dimly-lit warriors' den, filled with such relief and happiness and tiny silver flecks of starlight. Her white fur seemed to glow, too, intricately marked with brown tabby stripes and spots like a leopard's.

She'd readjusted on the random, abandoned nest he'd found, sending more plumes of its stale scent into the air, but Wolffang hardly cared. He just wanted to be with her. Noticing that some space had opened between them, he scooted closer until his pelt touched hers. Wow, she was warm. Her long fur must trap heat well. All the more reason to snuggle closer. A deep purr rumbled in his throat. He felt such a powerful urge to profess his love, but now was not the time. He just wanted to enjoy this moment for all it was worth.

Leopardsong's sweet, musical voice, a bird's song compared to his blunt, sharp fangs, drifted into his ear. He nodded in agreement. Atoning mattered more than anything. He still believed there were some cats and some crimes that were beyond forgiveness, but that was a long way out there. He'd done some horrible things, but here he was, a WindClan warrior still, curled up with his closest friend and only true love, finally making peace with it all. Wolffang chuckled at her humor, but her serious words reached him, too.

You better be always there for me. Don't go places I can't follow.

Wolffang nodded, more vehemently this time, and looked her in the eyes again. "Leopardsong..." He reached to place a huge, broad paw onto her small, delicate one. "I swear on every star in the sky and every cat in this Clan that I will never leave you. Every trouble you must face, every bout of fear or uncertainty, I'll be there by your side, an ear to talk to, a claw to defend you. It's a dangerous world, a dangerous life, but... Even if I must risk my life, I will never, never try to leave this world behind. I belong here, with you, in WindClan, and my time among the stars won't come until we're tucked away in the elders' den, side by side. But, even if the worst happens... I'll be there in the sky, and let's see StarClan try to stop me from visiting you as often as I can. I'll always find a way to be beside you. And I promise I'll do everything I can not to go before I should."

For an instant, he wondered if he would be able to keep this promise. A warrior's life was risky. There was a chance... well, a chance that it could all end too soon. But he shook off that fear. StarClan had promised him a good, long life. He'd been sent back for a reason. And, just as he'd said... if the worst happened, he'd make sure he was with her always.

@Moonraven (We can wrap this up soon!)