[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.)