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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Flopsykit, recently renamed Leveretkit by himself because the other name made his stomach feel sick and he always thought the tom kit’s names sounded prettier and he wanted to know what it felt like to be more like them, had just come back from sneaking out of camp to raid the abandoned garden. Around his ribs he had a little self-made contraption engineered out of string, and upon his back sat long stems of thyme, rosemary, parsley, and oregano. He smelled like a walking kitchen, and indeed that’s what they were for — though, as he walked into the nursery, he saw that Badgerkit was still sleeping.
But— Oleanderkit wasn’t. He jumped back when he saw her, a big, startled smile spreading across his face. He’d leapt straight back into the wall, squishing the herbs, so he half-turned and patted around behind him while he spoke. “Oh! Hello, Ollie. I think we’re making biscuits today — or cornbread without the corn or the bread because I’ve been trying to peer through the twoleg windows and take notes but their blasted dog keeps seeing me and then it wants to give me all sorts of kisses because it’s really not as aggressive as you might expect. Anyway, you’re welcome to join.” He turned back to her and gave her a smile.
Oleanderkit never payed attention to her denmates. They had simply never caught her attention, and she much preferred watching how the adults when about their days. They didn't spend the day making messes, or annoying each other, or playing silly games, and she considered herself more on their level of maturity. Though sometimes even that got boring, sometimes Moonblight wasn't in camp and she couldn't annoy him, or everyone got angry at how she got under their paws instead of finding her incredibly adorable; on those days, she stayed in the nursery, napping or grooming her fur or glaring from her lone nest at the other kits because, obviously, she was still better than them.
She remembered seeing one of them leave, almost forgot about it until he walked back into the nursery, decorated in the strongest smelling herbs he could have possibly found. Oleanderkit was already annoyed, so she sat up from where she had tucked around herself and glared at him, her amber eyes holding a small fire in their depths from the intensity alone. Ollie? She rolled her eyes, tilted her head as he spoke.
"I don't think you're making anything," she stated matter-of-factly, "it's all just mud an' sticks, and you guys always make a mess!" She stuck up her nose, "no, I do not want to join." She smoothed down the tail on her fur with her paw, just to keep them busy and occupied so she didn't feel the need to rip her own fur out. "Can't you do something else?"
“Yeah, but it’s fun,” Leveretkit replied with a big, dimpled smile. He began to strip the stems out of his harness and lay them neatly on the ground — or, he tried to be neat, but instead they all started fumbling out of his paws and going all over the nursery floor while he desperately dove this way and that trying to get them back together.
“Oh!” Laughing nervously, he inched forward to reach out and quickly pluck a sprig from where it had somehow floated down onto Oleanderkit’s face. “Sorry. What would you like to do instead, then? What I really want to do is steal some pie crusts I saw baking in the twoleg cottage…” His voice had become wistful; he slowly stopped fussing over the herb bundles, sitting up straighter as longing overcame him. “And the recipe book I saw in there. I can’t read the writing but I can try and follow the pictures — they look delicious.” He let out a weird sounding, nerdy little donkey bray laugh, his top fangs digging into his chin as he stared straight ahead, envisioning the book.
She looked away, thought the plan over for a moment, “okay. Let’s do that.” It was voiced like a demand, not an invitation, and before Leveretkit could even respond, she was stomping out of the nursery, head and tail held high, steps graceful and proud and trying so, so hard not to be seen as a little, stupid kit, even if she was one. She didn’t lead them to the main exit — even if, in her opinion, it was rather easy to sneak out that way anyway — instead, she guided him towards the emergency escape, close enough to the nursery as to not be too suspicious. She looked around for a moment, eyeing the few cats that remained in camp and, the moment she knew they wouldn’t be caught, she slipped through the tunnel, not sparing a glance at Leveretkit.
“They found me out there, you know.” It was a fact she kept bringing up. For some strange reason, she preferred to differentiate herself with it, or perhaps it was her strange way of coping. “Moonblight saved me. He’s so nice, and he’s cool, and he took me outside once.” She also kept bringing up Moonblight. “Did they find you somewhere?” She actually had no idea where he had come from, never payed attention or asked because it had never particularly interested her. She assumed everyone was brought here against their will — she and her siblings had been, Moonblight said he wasn’t from Nightclan either, so it was easy to come to the conclusion that nobody was really from here, which admittedly, was very far from reality.
“Okay!” he replied quickly, doing a last, panicked look around the nursery, frozen in place as Oleanderkit marched out without him and doing a frantic mental catalogue of everything he needed — which was just the harness, and that was already on his back. “Mm-mm-mm— Okay!” he repeated, and scampered out after her. “Oh, I know Moonblight! I like him — he’s always doing this to Sagebristle.” He copied the Loyal Guard’s wide-eyed, smitten look, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Then he giggled. “I like girls too, they’re pretty, so I know why he does it.” He laughed again.
Did they find you somewhere? “Find me?” he echoed, scrunching up his face in confusion as he stomped along at her side through the ferns that towered high over their heads. “I wasn’t found anywhere, just in the nursery. But my mom died, I think, so then I moved in with Badgerkit and we started cooking. I was really sad at first but then he showed me how to make a mud pie and even though it tasted terrible it made me happy for the first time since she died. And now I cook every day!” He smiled.
She’d never thought about how pretty others were, only ever worrying about her own looks; she was narcissus and her own reflection, not taking a moment to look at anything besides her self. When she stared into people’s eyes, she was really looking into her own through them. But she gave it some thought, shimmying out into the open air and, surprisingly, waiting for Leveretkit, though she met him with a sudden glare.
“Well, I hope you know Moonblight is my best friend!” She turned away again, leading them in a direction that probably wasn’t even the cottage to begin with (she didn’t know her way around much, as often as she’d like to boast about it).
As he spoke of his mother and subsequent friendship with Badgerkit, she only gave an apathetic, “oh, that’s sad,” though she didn’t sound too emotional about it. “My mother was eaten, I think. I don’t think she would have tasted very nice, but I think it would still be better than your mud pies.” A terribly grim joke, one that only Oleanderkit would properly laugh at.
Well, I hope you know Moonblight is my best friend! “That’s nice!” Leveretkit replied happily, not picking up on her possessiveness of the tom and genuinely happy that she had such a close friend. But at her dark joke, he slowed to a stop. “O-oh,” he croaked out, feeling a little queasy. “Oh my gosh. Well, that’s… that’s not good. I’m so sorry.” He really did sound it, and he was. “I-I think your mother would have tasted very nice…” How was he supposed to comfort her about this? “If— if I was in possession of your mother’s corpse I would put her on the chef’s specials board!” he declared cheerfully, even if his face looked horrified and close to tears as he said it.
“Uh— oh,” he suddenly darted out and tapped her on the shoulder with a sheepish, nervous laugh, “I think we’re going the wrong way. The cottage is that way.” He pointed to where smoke was rising beyond the tree tops. “In fact, if we keep going this way I think we’re gonna—“
Yeah. The ground suddenly plunged away, opening out onto a sheer bank of ferns. Leveretkit, walking just behind her, didn’t stop in time, and with huge eyes and a little, cut off gasp, sent them both tumbling down the precarious hill, through whipping ferns and raindrop-laden spiderwebs and shadows.
She gave a wide, satisfied smile at his acceptance of the fact, tail swishing happily behind her as she continued to lead them in the wrong direction. She didn’t understand his reaction to her joke — what did he have to be sorry for? — but she gave him an odd, confused look as he continued to talk. “… What?” She asked, genuinely puzzled. He was making jokes yet near crying at the same time and she couldn’t make any sense of it at all, so instead she shrugged and moved on, as easily as if they were talking about the weather.
The cottage is that way. She narrowed her eyes at him, pushed his paw away. “No. I think I know where I’m going.” She raised her head a little higher, like she was showing off, and took large, lumbering steps forward to rub it in, ignoring whatever protests he may have next until they were both pulled down, rolling and tumbling downhill.
From where he landed too close for comfort, Oleanderkit pushed him off and shot to her paws, immediately brushing off her white pelt. After a few frantic moments, she snapped around, looming above the little tom. “Look what you’ve done! You made us fall, and now my fur is all dirty and I don’t know where we are!” She hissed, completely ignoring the fact that it had been her who had led them this way.
Leveretkit landed with an oof, sprawled out atop her. He was still dazed, his fur drenched from falling through the ferns, when she pushed him off.
“Oh, uh! Here!” In a well meaning but misguided attempt at solving the problem, he immediately shot forward, practically tackling her to the ground, and began to frantically groom her fur. But all this achieved was him getting muddy paw prints all over her, thus making the situation worse. “Oh! Oh my gosh! Oh no! I don’t know how to clean a white cat!” He was starting to panic. “You still look really nice! Like a— like a Dalmatian. WHO DOESN’T LIKE DOGS?” The question came out in a frantic cry, followed by frenzied laughter as he tried to reassure and comfort her.
Struggling for a moment, she roughly pushed him off, "off, off, off!" She gave him a particularly hard whack over the head, resisting the urge to shove his face in the dirt and see how he liked it, instead she steadied herself, shook out her fur and looked down at it in dismay. "I DON'T LIKE DOGS!" She shouted back, voice shrill, eyes wide and furious, her mess of fur bushed up to make herself a little more intimidating.
After a moment of thoughtless fury — she had the tendency to overreact at small things, it would pass soon — she looked around, first up, then to the right where the land continued, not quite a path, but a place they could definitely make it through. "Come on," she growled, immediately moving past Leveretkit to lead the way, even if she still didn't know where they were going, though she didn't say that out loud.
“Sorrysorrysorry,” he whispered frantically, curled on his back like a dead bug with his paws held up submissively to stop her pummelling his face. “Who doesn’t like dogs?” he whispered to himself when she turned away, pushing himself up and brushing off his fur.
When he looked up, she was still leading them in the wrong direction. “Oleanderkit,” he called after her in exasperation, trying to sound gentle and patient. He cut in front of her. “This is still the wrong way.”
Fun fact every time I see this thread I HAVE to listen to the song because it gets stuck in my head
Her fur flattened, irritatingly no longer neat — something she would be fixing later — and she let out a long, tired sigh, like he was the problem instead. Oleanderkit was determined to keep going, only stopped when he rudely cut in front of her, stared him down with a furious, offended look. Finally, she succumbed.
“Fine! Since you’re so smart and knowledgeable and know what you’re doing — lead the way then, Leveretkit. Lead us to safety! Do you want me to grovel at your feet too?” She rolled her eyes, huffed in annoyance, but stepped back, let him pass her so he could lead or whatever. Really, it was an overreaction on her part, but she always struggled to take in the feelings of others — he was the weird kid, she was the lonely school yard bully, who expected to be given everything she wanted, who wanted to be feared.
“Well, I don’t know the right way!” he exclaimed, eyes wide and baffled, like he had no clue why she would think that. He sounded a little fearful as he continued, looking around at the darkening forest. “Does that mean we’re stuck out here?” he whispered. “With the ghouls and the visigoths?” He’d heard about them somehow, just in passing, and now they were his greatest terror, even if he didn’t know what they were. “And…” He swallowed, his voice dropping to a reverently petrified whisper. “And the restaurant critics?” He backed against her, cowering into her mud-splattered fluff for protection as he looked around the dark undergrowth with huge eyes.
As he backed into her, she pushed Leveretkit away, spun him around so he was facing her, and gave his shoulders a rough, angry shake. Then, when some of her energy was finally out, she pushed him away again. “You don’t know?” She slapped a paw to her forehead, dragged it down her face, “no. You don’t know. And yet somehow you knew I was wrong.” She gave an exasperated sigh, fixed him with a last furious stare, and moved in the opposite direction.
“I’m sure if we go enough one way, we can find an exit or something. Plus, the only thing you want to worry about is foxes and badgers and bears, not silly monsters or food critics. Those aren’t even real! But animals will pick you apart until you’re bones, Badgerkit.”
Leveretkit let himself be shaken, and then calmly, gently, reached out his own paws to grasp Oleanderkit’s shoulders. Talking to her very slowly and looking her straight in the eye, he said, “I’m Leveretkit. Badgerkit is black and white, like a badger. I’m grey. You’re Oleanderkit.” Then he smiled, wide and happy. “Okay?”
“And I was only pretendin’. Of course I know where it is.” By this point he had turned away from her and was gazing out into the forest, looking like a haunted, shellshocked veteran gazing out at the forest of his old ghosts. The horror, whispered Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now, but this is not Apocalypse Now.
“Okay, whatever,” she looked at him like he was insane for even correcting her. She probably wouldn’t remember anyway — in one ear and out the other. Her strange look turned into one of confusion as she stopped to look at him, one eyebrow raised skeptically.
”You know the way? Okay, lead us then, Mr. Leader. Take us to that silly cottage for your stupid pie.” Standing beside him now, waiting expectantly with one paw tapping the ground, she stared out into the same stretch of woods, much less fazed and fearful. She had a strange sort of confidence, didn’t cry in the face of danger, almost had a draw towards it. There was a strange sense of comfort in the unknown.
“Oh, I hope it’s not stupid flavoured, or silly flavoured,” he worried earnestly, setting off into the dark with very dainty steps; he barely put his next paw forward as he walked, so he looked like a snail, basically walking in place so you’d think he wasn’t moving at all until you came back ten minutes later and he was a little further away from the last tree you’d seen him at. He’d be perfectly suited to a cartoon existence where the landscape changed behind him but he never did at all.
He looked up at her with a smile as they walked, very happy as always to be called anything like Mr. “Would you like to sing a song, Oleanderkit? I know this tremendous one that—“ Suddenly, they were falling back down the slope they’d just fallen down. He’d led them in a circle. “Oh,” he said as he sat up, rubbing his head and looking back up the hill where pine needles were still spraying down after them. “Well, that’s a bother.”
Oh, I hope it’s not stupid flavoured, or silly flavoured. She wanted to yell at him again, because God he was just so annoying, but for once she held it down, for once she kept her temper at bay. He was so irritably innocent and kind and it bothered her, for some strange, indiscernible reason. After a few moments of begrudgingly waiting for him, she got sick of his slowpoke pace and gave a less-than-gentle nudge to signal him to hurry up. She snorted at his suggestion, "a song?" Her voice very much gave mean-girl energy, because that was pretty much what she was. A bully, though she would never agree.
As they slid down the slope, she let out a growl of frustration, grit her teeth a little too hard. "Just a bother? How are you —" she made a string of confused, messy gibberish, trying to sort out her words and not being able to get anything clear for a moment, "— you're so dumb! And stupid! And nice and ... this was a dumb, stupid idea and I want to leave!" She was mad, unreasonably so considering she had led them most of the way, but it hadn't been her initial idea, right?
There was something more than anger in her voice, her eyes, something like fear, but if you asked her about it, she would say she wasn't scared. The dark wasn't scary, the woods weren't scary, being stuck and lost certainly wasn't scary.
"This is dumb," she repeated, her vocabulary small and simple, "we're going to attacked and eaten or something and then we'll die a horrible, painful death and it's going to be all your fault!" Ignoring her own part, of course. Oleanderkit didn't face him as she yelled, turned away entirely with a lash of her tail. "You can't even lead us home properly, how are you supposed to get to the cabin you so desperately need to get too, or whatever?"
You're so dumb! And stupid! And nice. Leveretkit just sat there and smiled up at her as she hurled her insults at him, like he didn't understand that's what they were meant to be, or he was just so calm and even-headed that they flew straight over his head. "Being nice is a good thing!" was all he said at last, cheerful and pleased.
But as she continued, his eyes widened and he gasped. "Oh my gosh! Are you afraid? Oh, Ollie!" He shot closer and wrapped his paws around her, burying his cheek into her fur and closing his eyes. "Oh, Ollie, it's okay - I'll protect you. Once we get to the cottage it will all be okay. But first we just need to get there. The house gnomes must have left some clues somewhere around here, we just need to find them." He was still hugging her; she was so soft and warm and cozy, like a bed. He began to grow heavier, his head lolling.
"Afraid?" She cackled, a forced, definitely-hiding-fear type of laugh, "No," she pushed him off, annoyed at his lack of personal space, "no. You couldn't protect me from anything. I think you'd die." It was quite a nice thought, though, thinking someone would die just for her, just because they felt she was worth it, but she pushed it from her mind for now.
Then, she rolled her eyes, "and being so nice is going to get you walked over, like this," as she passed, she purposefully stepped on his toes. The land ahead was dim, and her momentary confidence immediately wore off, so she turned back to the tom-kit, hiding her embarrassment, "you go first. You're leading the way."
