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.
A light dusting of snow covered the forest floor, covering the empty branches that tangled above her head in silent solidarity against natures wintery punishment. The moss crinkled against her paws as she walked upon it's frozen surfaces, no mater how much care she gave to be silent it seemed the forest itself was determined to thwart her.
Her steps were slow as she worked her way back into Primal Instinct's territory, muscles still sore from overwork. Her injury was still fresh enough she shouldn't have made the trek she had. But she had promised Gouro help if he called on her for his assistance with Louhi. But with that favor at-least called in she would no longer need to linger with it's weight over head; tying her down and dragging her back towards what she had left behind.
Pausing as a sound broke through the trees, one that was louder than even her clumsy steps. Golden eyes turned to watch into the gloom, but no movement was visible. Then again, the sound, almost like the yip of a fox. Her shoulders tightened as she stood still, listening. Another sound came this time more distinctly feline. With a curse she started towards the sounds and as she grew closer it became clear it was the sounds of a soon to be fight.
The beast had emitted a vicious snarl as the snow-dusted earth was painted by its scarlet blood. The wound only managed to make it angrier. The ragged russet body of the fox shot from the shadows again, jaws open and eyes wild. Its cruel teeth snapped forward, inches away from Verne, who stood with her back against a towering oak. The calico huntress was trapped.
She’d found that hunting had been the best way to clear her mind these days, after her sister’s departure. She had a route she liked to follow, particularly staying close to where the oaks (the trees that were considered sacred to her people back in the Loch) grew the thickest and strongest. She’d detected the beast’s rank scent drifting in the wind half a mile ago, but reckless as ever she’d pushed on through the woods, thinking she’d out-run it in a chance encounter. Truly that’s what she was suited for – running, not fighting.
Presently, she looked for an opening to make an escape – but the creature was uncharacteristically aggressive, and she disliked the crazed look in its eyes. She couldn’t risk being caught by its yellow teeth. The fox snapped at her leg again, and all she could do was retract her paw quickly and levy a counterstrike against its muzzle, hoping to drive it back. Instead, it took another step forward, closing the distance between them. Verne scrambled back for more space, as its hot, rancid breath washed her muzzle. Just as her back pressed against the bark, a loud CRACK broke through the forest. In a heartbeat, before Verne could even look up, a giant branch came hurtling down to the forest floor, landing square on the crown of the fox’s head with a THUD. The fox collapsed, dead.
Verne blinked up at where the branch had rained down from, and then down at the corpse; bewildered. A trail of blood ran from where the branch had opened its skull, melting the snow in a red pool. She allowed a smile as relief washed over her, and then her amber eyes flashed up as she noticed Antigone limping into the scene. She was almost lost for words, so all she uttered at the other she-cat was, “Hello… nice weather we’re having, no?” Her voice was rich with a slight twang of a velvety accent.
She blinked, golden eyes empty before her expression twisted into bewilderment. Slowly she looked from the fallen body of the fox and then back to the she-cat standing before it. Then her eyes drew back to the branch that could have just as easily hit the calico; that should have hit the calico by all rights. The urge to take a step back arose in her. No the urge to turn and walk away from the situation raced through her as she took a deep breath, held it to her own slow silent count of three and then released it again. She opened her mouth to speak before she paused once more and repeated her slow counting breaths.
Finally after what was undoubtedly to long a period of silence she deemed herself prepared to deal with the other. Told herself it would be like addressing Louhi and her own trouble making. Though by all rights the she-cat was not her child, and in-fact was not even someone Antigone knew the name of. Still her guileless words could only serve as a warning that the first moments of conversation were going to be an exercise in frustration.
"Well by my account I would say it's been rather cold recently with the winter. But I suppose if you like the cold then it's within your rights to address the weather as nice." The words were drawled out as she took the time to remind herself that sometimes coincidences happened. Just as quickly she reminded herself that a branch perfectly falling on the fox and killing it was absurd. "So, would you normally consider yourself lucky? Blessed by gods perhaps? Harboring a secret guardian angel?"
“It is a nice temperature, I think, the air is crisp, though my fur might be too short for this climate, I much preferred it during the Leaf-fall,” Verne rambled, her lack of words causing them to flow out unabated like a fountain, to fill the air and give her time to cool her fluster. She credited it to random luck, the same as anyone else, but this sort of thing seemed to happen often, and more as of late. But this was the first time someone else had witnessed it. She was struck dumb when Antigone appeared, almost feeling like she was caught red-handed (like someone had walked in to gape at her before she could slip off her super suit). But as her heartbeat settled in her chest, the more a calm relief washed over her, and a vindication. She wasn’t completely crazy – it was as if she needed someone else to react to accept how odd it was. She looked at Antigone and gestured with a paw, her expression almost saying ‘so you saw that too?!’
But what she simply said, after a pause was, “I guess… I’m a little lucky.” She smiled abashedly, and echoed a laugh, partly to ease the tension, and partly in a delayed reaction to the stranger’s words. Blessed by a guardian angel? She could recall a certain proxy having the same idea about her. It was ironic given she and her sister’s past exploits, the damage they’d left in their wake. They’d pay for their deeds eventually – and perhaps her sister already had given her recent disappearance – but being mauled by a rabid fox seemed like a fitting end to her debt. What forces could possibly shine favor on her?
Her amber eyes caught on her paw that remained outstretched. The fox’s red blood dripped from her claws. “I think the beast was afflicted by a certain madness, an infection of the mind,” her accented tone was suddenly serious. She remembered seeing it in her past adventures; it could get into the prey and eventually cats would be possessed by it too. “We’d better –"
She glanced up at Antigone, suddenly noticing her injury with concern. “Do you think you could help me bury it?”
[ I just found the saved threads tab. I feel sort of stupid for overlooking it so long. Was bookmarking threads and wondering where I could see them. Turns out it was right in front of me. ]
Antigone raised a brow, "a little lucky," she huffed amused before giving a short shake of her head. She moved forward to examine the fox tilting her head at the foam like spit around it's jaws and crushed up body. "Do you think we'll be able to move the branch?" Moving forward she gave a light shove at it with her paw and it did rock a bit. "Well that answers that." Though she had hefted a lot of her weight into the push; with the two of them though it shouldn't be a problem.
"And if you think it's diseased we should be careful not to get near it's mouth. Drag it by the tail perhaps?" Glancing around her eyes considered the area around them before she glanced over her shoulder back towards the edges of their territory. "Should we bury it outside the territory. Some things burrow after all, How contagious is this affliction?"
Antigone had no personal experience with this sort of thing, growing up she had spent most of her time being the coddled show pony paraded out and put away just as quickly. She did not deal with predators, she had barley been permitted to hunt. And in her time wandering before the league she had be a lone she-cat, pregnant and then with kits, she avoided most conflicts. "I must admit to having little expertise in this area."
“The locals in a small mountain town had a name for it… which I don’t remember at the moment,” Verne meowed, flashing an apologetic smile. The calico cat was quite forgetful, and often distracted. “But… it’s bad news, and very contagious.”
She nodded at Antigone’s suggestion, feeling glad to have a more astute mind on the scene. With her sister gone, Verne hadn’t had anyone to check her rash decision-making. She was a do-now, think later type of cat. Her sister had been the opposite, and together it hadn’t been much of an issue; recently her mind had been left to flow freely, with no one left to twist the cap on.
Her movements were jerky and excited when she was flustered, as she was now. But she did as Antigone suggested, circling around the fox, and chomping down on its mangy red-and-white tail. The beast was a bit starved, so she managed to drag it a few fox-lengths before her lean legs began to protest and she was forced to pause. Her amber eyes flashed up to the trailing Antigone. “Whash yor- nam?” she asked, before dropping the tail tip to the ground. “Sorry- what’s your name?”
The tortoiseshell nodded, she supposed it had been a little presumptuous of her to expect Verne to remember the name of a disease that she most likely didn't encounter all that often to begin with. But the desire to know what still there, if only so she could tell her kits and they could avoid it. But she would just have to settle for describing the symptoms.
Antigone having grabbed it by the tail a little further up and helping pull let the corpse drop as well, her small build not much more of a help. But she deeply disliked the idea of leaving it for other predators or scavengers to feat on and get sick as well. "I'm Antigone? And your name?" There was slight embarrassment in her tone as she realized they had skipped introductions.
Though she felt given the circumstances they could both be excused for being distracted by other things. It still felt like bad manners and her upbringing was making her internally cringe at the memory of the punishment she would have gotten growing up if she dared not introduce herself first thing. Just as quickly her fur was unconsciously bristling at the thought of letting that memories have any effect on her.
“I’m Verne,” she replied, visibly perking up. The league was such a mixed-bag; you never knew whether you’d get a helping hand or a knife to your back. Verne was quite gregarious, but she’d learned to be cautious of others — she still enjoyed playing pranks and corralling cats into bets, but she’d also learned to not be too trusting. But this tortoiseshell seemed genuine enough. All at once she felt guilty for roping her into cleaning up a mess she had no parts of, especially since she was clearly nursing ailments.
Verne cocked her head to the side, a frown replacing the smile that had sprouted. “Sorry, I should have said something earlier, but you look like you’re in rough shape. No offense— but are you sure you’re ok to be helping me? I can try dragging it the rest of the way…” The chances of that happening were dim. Verne was small-bodied too, and already tiring after a few feet.
[thank-you for rping with me! ]