[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.)