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!
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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.
Rosethorn slipped silently out of the warrior's den, her feet silently stirring the dirt beneath her as she entered the moonlight-drenched forest. It was late, very late, and apart from the cats guarding the camp entrance, no one else seemed to be awake. She'd been having trouble sleeping as of late- she'd used to sleep with Phantomfox curled around her, or her sister before that. But now Orchiddrop was snuggled against Crow- as it should be- and Rose was just... alone. Foxpaw was in the apprentice's den, and she was alone.
It made sleeping hard. So her feet carried her out, across the forest that was disturbed only by cricket chorus among the low-lying brush and silver-bleached wildflowers. Rosethorn found her way to the expansive sandy shoreline by the sea, letting the salty wind stir her long fur. It was refreshing, to be out here in the solemn stillness of night, but she wasn't alone like she thought she'd be.
There was a tom down by the shore, one that she knew by name but knew nothing else about. Howlingheart. Rosethorn debated if she should approach, and eventually decided in favor of it, making her way over. "Hey," she said quietly, tail flicking behind her. "Do I spy a fellow insomniac?"
The tom spent most of the nights that he couldn't sleep by the water, watching the quiet waves lap at the shore. It was... peaceful to him, peaceful in a way that most of SummerClan wasn't. This wasn't to say he didn't love it here, or that he didn't appreciate the noise of a merry clan, but the quiet had always been something that called to him. Well, not always. At one point, when the tom had been young, he was the center of attention. Foxpaw made that so. She was bright and magnetic, and he followed her around like a puppy, the two's lives intimately connected. That connection had been severed, though, and with it, his connection to the clan. He still lived here in his home, sure, but it wasn't his home. He was a stranger in his own lands, which was why the sea gave him so much comfort. Only in front of its endlessness did he feel at home, like his disconnection didn't mean anything, like this was where he was supposed to be.
He was deep in thought when she approached, so he didn't notice her until she spoke. A hint of embarassment flashed in his gaze; apparently, paying attention was something that he was unable to do while he listened to the sea's soft siren. "Ah, what can I say," he meowed with a hint of bashfulness in his voice, "I've learned that a healthy sleep schedule is for the birds." He let out a soft chuckle, a hint of nervousness in the corners of his eyes. Socialization wasn't necessarily his strong point these days, but he was friendly. "What brings you out here on this fine fall evening?"
Rosethorn smiled at his comment, settling herself a foot away from him and glancing out at the water. It was soothing, the way the moonlight bounced off the waves and slashed black shadows across the surface. Social as she was, she didn't mind Howlingheart being here, either. It felt nice to have company.
"Sometimes I can't get my mind to quiet down," she said quietly, glancing over at him. She'd always been extremely vocal about her issues, even with strangers sometimes, and the darkness made the vulnerability come more easily. "I worry about my son, who's sleeping in the apprentice den with cats he doesn't know well yet. I worry about my sister's pregnancy. I worry about myself. What my future is, who I want to be, what mistakes I've made that led me to where I am. I wonder if life will ever cut me a break."
The long-furred she-cat laughed a little breathlessly. "Sorry to dump this on you. I'm far too chatty. If I'm bothering you, feel free to tell me to sop off and I'll leave you alone."
"Heard," the tom replied as she spoke. He knew all too intimately the ways in which worry consumed your sleep. He listened patiently as she spoke, considering each of her words as they came out of her mouth. Ah, so she was a care-r. Someone who took all of the world's problems on as her own. That, too, the tom knew. It was easy to let concerns about others be a driving force in your life, especially if one was struggling internally.
He then shook his head. "No, no," he murmured, touching her shoulder gently with his tail, "you're not dumping anything on me. It's actually quite refreshing to be around someone who is willing to be so open." The normally quiet tom gave her a small smile. It had been a long time since he'd had someone tell him anything worthwhile. Foxpaw used to tell him everything, back when he was Ravenpaw and not Howlingheart. Since her death, which was now so long ago, he'd isolated himself. He hadn't meant to, but the pain of losing his best friend had ravaged him. He had mostly kept to the sidelines of SummerClan since, becoming a shadow in a clan that he had once been center of attention in - no doubt thanks to his sister. "I wouldn't tell you to sop off even if you were, though," he added with a blink. "Sometimes, we just need to talk to someone, and I'd never prevent that."
The tom then shifted, tilting his head to the side. "I can have Sunpaw keep an eye on him if you want," he then offered. "She's my... well, it's complicated. Adoptive daughter might be the best way to put it? She's a good kid, and I think they'd relate. She wasn't raised here either, so she knows what that's like." It was a small gesture, but it was the only tangible thing he could think of that could make the she-cat's life just a little easier.
"As for the rest of that, pardon me if it isn't my business, but don't you think you're putting a little too much pressure on yourself?" He wasn't sure if he should have said that, but he couldn't help it. "Worrying about so much, especially things that are out of your control. It'll give you grey fur," he teased gently, although there was already a rising concern in his look.
"Plus, we've all made mistakes. It's a part of what makes us into the cats we are today. If you didn't make those mistakes, you wouldn't be Rosethorn. Or, at least, that's what I tell myself when the thoughts get too much." And, as his name suggested, they often did. "Don't be hard on yourself for making choices that at the time were what you thought was best for you. The knowledge you have today is not the same knowledge that you had when you were making them. You were just doing the best you could with the knowledge you had, I'm sure."
"That would be nice," Rosethorn said, in response to his offer about Sunpaw. "My apprentice was named Sunpaw, you know. She's Sunpetal now, and I'm sure she still holds a grudge against me for the one-sided feud she had with me. But it would be nice if Sunpaw could look after Foxpaw. He's the sweetest boy, but he's not very strong. It counted against him in Nightclan sometimes, but I don't think it will here."
His other advice was something she needed to hear, even if she already knew it. "I don't blame myself, per se, but I do wonder how life might have turned out differently. But thank you, Howlingheart," she said warmly, turning her amber gaze on her companion. "I find venting to a friend is the best way to prevent the rest of my fur from turning grey. If you can't tell, I'm a talker- and I appreciate your listening ear more than you could know."
"I'll talk to her about it," he meowed with a nod. He didn't know too much about Foxpaw, but he did know a lot about his adoptive daughter, and if there was one thing that he could be confident of, it was that she would be kind to him. He then smiled at the reference to Sunpetal. "Honestly, I've heard all about Sunpetal, although I haven't interacted with her myself. Apparently, she didn't take too kindly to not being the only Sun in the clan, from what I've heard." Howlingheart chuckled at the memory of Sunpaw telling him about the strange older cat. "I think you're right, though. I think he'll fit in just fine with time."
He then smiled at her again. "Of course. Advice is one of the only things I'm good for these days. Well, advice and showing warriors where the best flowers are." Other than that, he'd had minimal interaction with his clanmates. His pain had caused him to drift away. "I'm more than happy to give you an ear any time you need one. That's what friends do, yeah?" She was the first person in a long time to call him a friend, and it felt nice. "I intimately know what it's like to face big things alone, and no one deserves that."
Rosethorn smiled at the conflict he mentioned. "Sounds like Sunpetal. Thank you for your reassurance. Summerclan was good to me when I came here as an older apprentice- I'm sure it'll be good to him too."
"What did you face, if you don't mind my asking? We could trade stories- I've always found that's the quickest way to make friends. Plus I'm nosy- but I'm also good at keeping secrets." The garden keeper smiled at Howlingheart, nudging his shoulder gently. It was reassuring how quickly she was reconnecting- and making new friends- in Summerclan, but there was something about this quiet tom that drew her in more than the others.
He smiled in agreement with her first ideas. As soon as she asked, though, the smile fell slightly. Although he had opened the conversation to it with his words, thinking too deeply about the past always made his ... well, made his heart howl a little more than normal.
"Okay," he meowed after a moment. "Trading stories it is." There was a steely resolve in the tom's eyes as he nodded, more to himself than her. "Mine's a bit of a downer though. You can't judge me, okay?" he then added with a bit of a chuckle, although it was mostly to make himself feel better about what he was about to say.
"I was a litter of two. Funnily enough, her name was also Foxpaw." Howlingheart had no way of knowing that that wasn't as much of a coincidence as he thought it would be. "I used to be Ravenpaw, and the two of us, we were going to take over the world. She was kind, the kind of kind that's rare these days. She could make the world move if she put her mind to it." Despite the pain that thinking of his sister brought him, he couldn't help but to let out a soft sigh at the memory of being by her side. "There was ... an accident. A dog cornered my brother, Coyotewild, and Foxpaw. Only one of them came out of the fight alive, and then he took off into the wind. In a matter of minutes, I went from being a part of something to being completely alone." He shuddered at the memories of long nights, the way SummerClan became intrinsically cognizant of the eternal sounds of his crying.
"It's... been a long time since that day. Things are ... better now, but while it happened, it felt like my entire world was falling apart."
Rosethorn's eyebrows furrowed as she listened, confusion flitting in and out of her gaze. Had it been earlier in her life, she would've remembered that Phantomfox had been the one to tell her this story- but as it was, it had been over a year and a half since she'd heard him say it, and he'd mentioned his old name only once in passing. That, combined with the large number of cats she'd met and stories she'd heard and her own personal tragedies, meant that she couldn't remember the origin of that tale.
"I've heard that story. I think I may have met someone who knew Foxpaw before. It's been a few years, though. I'm so sorry for your losses- I know the pain of losing children, and I can't imagine losing my own sister." She rested her tail on his shoulder, sitting in quiet empathy for a few heartbeats. "And I know how long it can take to come out of loss. I really admire you for it."
It was perhaps good that she didn't recognize the tale; after all, it would make things easier. The longer it took the duo to realize that their stories were surprisingly connected, the easier it would be for them to establish comraderie. He didn't know Coyotewild was the cat who had devastated Rosethorn, and Rosethorn didn't know it was Phantomfox who had abandoned Howlingheart. The stars had a funny way of bringing the two together, both ravaged by the abandonment of the same tom, both trying to rebuild from parts that didn't quite go together.
Or at least, he didn't realize that it was Phantomfox until she spoke again. He was the only cat in the forest that would be able to tell that story. His muscles tensed at the realization. He still hadn't put the pieces together that Coyotewild was Phantomfox, but the very idea that Rosethorn somehow knew his long-lost brother made his head swim.
With a resolute sigh, the tom's mouth opened again. "I know who told you the story," he meowed quietly, looking away. "Well, at least, I can reasonably guess. Aren't too many cats around still that would have even known her name." His tail tip twitched as he spoke, his eyes narrowed slightly. "You must have met Coyotewild somewhere on your travels. He... must have changed his name somewhere down the line if you don't recognize Coyote." The tom shifted slightly, a slight discomfort at the mention of his brother.
And then, just like that, the conversation moved on. "Loss is a tricky one. They say there is no right way to grieve, but between you and I, I can only imagine that I did it in all the wrong ways." He let out a soft chuckle, his gaze returning to her for a moment. "What's your story?" he then asked, his tone genuinely curious. "Or, a story, since we were in the art of trading tales."
"It's rather an old and worn out story," Rosethorn said, giving up on trying to remember who had told her the story of Coyotewild in Summerclan. "I've spent my life losing people- my parents, most of my children, and now my mate. I thought I'd become a bit hardened to it, but it never seems to get any easier."
Rosethorn shrugged her shoulders at the wrong way to grieve comment. "I'm sure I could say the same about myself. I pushed my sister, my only family, away after my parents were killed. I ran away to Nightclan to escape the grief of my kits' deaths. I think this is the only time I'm mourning in a better way- still hurts though. I'm home, I'm back with family, I'm accepting help. It doesn't ease the burden, but at least there's more people to hold me up while I process it."
Instinctively, she leaned into his side slightly, glancing down at the sand with a laugh. "Starclan, tell me something more cheerful about yourself. Let's not wallow in this pity all night."
"It never does. You'd think it would, but it doesn't." He then settled in to listen to her words, nodding on occassion. "I'm glad that you're accepting help this time. It takes a great strength to know you can't do things alone," he meowed, ignoring the irony of the statement. He had yet to have that strength, the strength to reach out when he needed to.
And then, just like that, the conversation became lighter again. "Something cheerful about myself," he meowed, a slight amusement in his voice. It was bold of her to think there was anything cheerful about himself, other than Sunpaw entering his life. "Well... This is a secret, so I'll know if you told anyone," he warned, as if he was about to reveal some deep dark secret that he held to his chest. "This stays between us, but I can...." he paused for dramatic effect, a drum roll playing in his head, "I can balance on one leg." He offered the she-cat a wink, before demonstrating. He pulled himself to his hind legs, and then stuck his right one out, standing like some sort of circus cat on a tightrope. He stretched out, rising to his full height, before dropping back to all four paws.
Rosethorn watched him maneuver into position, bursting into a bout of shocked laughter when he held the pose. It lasted until well after he'd returned to a normal posture, and she grinned at him through the dim light. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen. I loved it."
Her own cheerful fact? "I make the best flower crowns in the clan. I taught the kits and apprentices last year, before I left. It Rosethorn's master class in crown-crafting, and it was a certifiable disaster. Super fun, though. I'll have to make you one sometime soon. It helps clear my mind, when I keep my paws busy."
He grinned at her compliment, before nodding. "Yeah, I'd like that," he meowed, looking off. "I'd like to say I'm pretty good at it already, but who knows, maybe it'll be good for me to learn from the best." -
time skiperoni
Howlingheart stood at the entrance of what was at one point the Elders den, and was now a makeshift prison. The very idea that there was a prison within the camp he had called his home for so long was sickening, almost as sickening as the fact that Rosethorn was stuck in it. Of course, he knew why: Aspenstar saw Rosethorn as one of the only threats in the clan. If he was her, maybe he'd agree that the best place for the former deputy was the prison. But, he wasn't, so instead, he had been fuming quietly as he tried to figure a way to get her out. Luckily, the Loyal guard were all out leading patrols, and Stormstar was no where to be seen. If there was ever a time for a jailbreak, it was now. And, although he didn't want to bring her out of camp - he couldn't imagine what the NightClan cats would do to her if she was found outside of the prison itself, let alone outside the camp - he wanted to brighten up her day a little.
He dropped the last of the flowers on the ground in a pile. He'd tried to find all of the ones he could, and there was a small variety of them collected in a somewhat secluded part of the SummerClan camp. Satisfied with his work, the tom made his way over to the elder's den.
"Hey, Rosethorn, you in there? I have something for you," he called in quietly, lest he disturb any of the others who were forced in that den.
Rosethorn was not having the best time. When Phantomfox was here and not simpering at Aspenstar's feet, he kept a close eye on her. Sometimes she was able to sneak out, and in the near future she'd be helping lead the rebellion, but for now she spent most of her time cooped up with Ratstar's family. Foxpaw, still in his father's favor, got more leniency than she did.
Still, she couldn't resist the urge to plod her way to the entrance of the den, poking her head outside to see Howlingheart and a pile of flowers. Despite her exhaustion, she smiled upon catching a glimpse of him. "Hey, you," she said, touching her nose to his shoulder. "What's all this?"
"Hey, you" he repeated, his tail touching gently to her shoulder. Times were tough for the she-cat, tough in a way that he couldn't even begin to understand. That was the good thing about friendship; you didn't need to know exactly what the other cat felt to know when a shoulder was needed. He would be there for her even though he didn't understand, because whether he could fathom her pain or not, he knew she needed someone.
"Oh, this?" he asked with an awkward chuckle. "Well, I just figured if you were going to be out of the prison, you might as well be able to do something other than just... do exactly what you were doing in the prison outside of it..." He was babbling, he knew this, but turns out, Howlingheart didn't really know how to talk to girls. Or friends in general, he supposed.
"You told me that you liked to make flower crowns because it kept your paws busy," he meowed, a small smile on his face. "You told me you'd show me some time, and I thought, well, maybe you'd be willing to show me? I know this won't... solve anything, but I was thinking that we could just pretend for a bit that life... wasn't the way it is right now." Another awkward chuckle. Man, what was it with his nerves today? "It's silly, I know..." he then murmured, taking an embarassed step back.
Rosethorn listened to him talk, mirth bubbling through her sorrow and confusion. "It's sweet," she corrected, smiling. "Thank you. I'd love to teach you." How nice it would to pretend life was okay for a while, that Phantomfox wasn't coming back in a few hours to play the part of the jailor. The lines over her chest had scabbed over, a dull red color against her cream and gray fur, and they throbbed at the memory of her former mate.
With a conscious effort to shake off the gloominess, she sat, sorting through the flowers. "I've always been partial to pastels for my own crowns, but these leaffall wildflowers are vibrant, so any of them would look great. When's the last time you made a crown?"
He let out a relieved sigh, offering an "Oh." in response. He hadn't blown it. Good to know. He glanced down at the flowers, listening to her talk. "It's been a while," he meowed. "At one point, I made one every day." That was not a particularly fond part of Howlingheart's life; after all, he had made them daily to put on his sister's grave. "I haven't gotten a chance to make another one since Sunpaw came around. By the time she was old enough to learn herself, I'd grown a little rusty." He let out a goodnatured laugh, his tail tip flicking. "You'll have to be patient with me if I don't remember how to do it right away, okay?"
"Of course," Rosethorn said softly, smiling. "I taught about 15 kits at once, so you'll be a piece of cake no matter how rusty you are." With an easy-going laugh, she started in on the instruction- tuck this stem here, bend that branch there- trading jokes in between commands. After a bit she sat back, looking at her own half-finished flower crown.
It looked too much like the ones she'd given Phantomfox, and her expression soured as she tore out the flowers and picked new ones. "Sorry," she mumbled, noticing that Howlingheart had glanced her way. "It looked just like the one I gave my psycho ex."
He let out a chuckle. "Fifteen at once? Wow, Rosethorn, you're stronger than I thought you were. The idea of having fifteen kits with their attention focused on me definitely gives me stage fright."
The two worked along side each other, and Howlingheart felt himself more at peace than he had been in a while. There was something about her that seemed to put his mind at ease. When he glanced over and noticed her expression, concern flashed in his gaze. A soft frown found its way onto his face. "He didn't deserve your hard work," he meowed, offering her a brush of her shoulder with his tail. "How about you use this one?" he meowed, pushing over a celosia. They were of SummerClan's more uncommon plants, and Howlingheart had quite literally had to search for it. But, he had picked it specifically for Rosethorn. "My mom used to tell me it symbolizes strength, resiliance, and courage. I think it would be perfect for you."
