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.
It was a clear, crisp dawn, the grass wet with dew, the late summer air chilly enough to bite, and the sky an endless grey-blue. Doefreckle had never experienced a winter in SummerClan and he wasn't looking forward to the prospect; in NightClan, under the cover of all those trees, the cold had been bearable, but out here on the wide, open meadows, he dreaded the coming of the snow. So, out before most of his clanmates as had become his habit since coming back to life, Doe had found a patch of tall yellow daisies and yarrow beneath a camellia bush and was sprawled out in the pale, early sunshine, his broken paw laid out straight on the grass in front of him.
Since coming back, he'd been able to mostly push the thought of his grown kits out of his mind - he had other things to do, he had to focus on himself, he'd always been more suited to the life of a free bachelor than a tom with family; he didn't even know whether they'd been born or if they'd died with Beetuft, and he, though he would meekly deny it, had been too much of a coward to ask. Not exactly because he was afraid they were dead, but because he was afraid of how his life would change if they weren't - not knowing gave him plausible deniability; to know for certain meant he was then the bad guy for not seeking them out. When he was younger, when he'd adopted the litter of kits with Shadedsun and the other Mountain Clan leaders, he'd been foolish and optimistic and selfish - he'd wanted the experience of playing family, not of actually being a parent. It had been a fun, affectionate little game he'd expected he'd be able to pass off to someone else at some point once the appeal wore off. Like a pretty handbag that you palmed off when it went out of season.
But these kits... His own blood... It had started to gnaw at him. Of course the other ones did too - he had loved them, and he had cared, and he had genuinely tried to be as good a father as he could be at that age and under those circumstances, and the loss of them still ached - but the idea of there being cats out there who were his sons and daughters was bothering him lately. He almost... wanted to know them. He couldn't be a father, he'd already missed too much; they'd grown up without him and he was still too immature himself. But maybe he could be... something.
