Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
News & Updates
11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
Here on Classic we understand that sometimes life can get difficult and we struggle. We may need to receive advice, vent, know that we are not alone in our difficult times, or even just have someone listen to what's going on in our lives. In light of these times, we have created the support threads below that are open to all of our members at any time.
"Come on, get up." Athalia hesitantly prodded the shadowy figure that was curled up before her, mildly surprised, before being over come with embarrassment when she realized he was warm to the touch. Of course he was warm, he was alive after all. His fur for the most part was soft like hers, like most cats. She had no real reason to think he would feel any different from any other cat. Aside from the shadowy vapor that seemed to pour off him, and despite the warmth of him the air around her felt cold just thinking about it. She lightly shook her head. He is not cold she inwardly reminded herself.
"I need to run an errand and you're going to be my escort." she said, matter-o'-factly. She was already turning away from the other proxy, not that she would of been able to see his reaction anyway. Yes she could of picked any of her hunters to escort her but she didn't want to be in their company. Besides she hadn't seen Cross do much of anything lately, though it wasn't like she kept an eye on him all the time. Not that it would do any good anyway. The fact that whenever he did show up, he reeked of FallClan was not lost on her, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel a pang of jealousy, though she couldn't justifiably say anything about it.
The black tom lifted his head and stared at the white she-cat through slits of crimson. In his mind's eye, scarlet and black wisps curled towards her, enveloped her, pulled her into the darkness, turned that white pelt black, made her fall into the shadows and vanish from sight. Instead, he inhaled a deep breath that seemed to last endlessly on the outside – filling his lungs, clearing his mind, expanding his ribs, vanquishing the shadows that slithered around his heart – and let it back out slowly, taking quite a bit of mental effort to convince his body to sit up and stand. The cracking of bone and the shifting of muscle resounded in the silence of the darkness enshrouded area he'd made his home, and while he padded toward her, he stopped before the crisp edge where umbra and light met, red eyes focused on her form.
Perhaps it was because of his subconscious – or perhaps it was because of a different divine power – but he refused to leave the shadows that enveloped him in their chill embrace and kept him safe from the burning light of day.
