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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Foxfable, she knew, left her legacy intact despite her sudden leave and ominous explanation for it, citing signs sent by StarClan. There were no signs. And in these unholiest of lands, there was no StarClan. The pine needles' interlocking fingers wove a silver-and-green tapestry beneath the sky, preventing the grounders from seeing Silverpelt and Silverpelt from seeing them. For the first time in her life, and in the middle of enemy territory, Sunstar — Sunpetal? Sun? Did she even have a name anymore, after moons of isolation and distance? She couldn't remember the last time she heard it from someone other than herself when she stared into still waters and spoke to the cat staring back — was well and truly alone. Greenleaf felt chiller here. NightClan was a godless place, and the ancestors' lack of presence was noticeable in the dank, heavy atmosphere.
By the time the stench of NightClan thickened, their scents crawling through the pine forest like a dense, putrid fog, shades of prismatine were splashed across the slate-gray clouds. Thunder growled far away. Beneath her dainty paws, the ground churned into loose mud, and errant strands of her sterling coat were bogged down by it. Every so often, when she came upon a moss-layered rock or a creaking bridge over the streams, she sat and preened herself, grooming the ick from her apricot-colored feet. She might have been less of a queen now, having fled from her castle and hand-me-down crown, but she was no less of royalty. When she continued walking, she did so with queenly grace.
When she came to the cenote, she paused, staring down at it. Something two shades too close to fear leapt into her throat, and she couldn't help but to wonder: Would she see familiar faces here? Cats that occupied her former home once? Would she see the bloodthirsty healer that slit her father's throat, or the guard that showed her patrol a rare kindness, or the self-contented smile she'd wanted to claw off of Stormreign's face? She didn't know. And she had to find out.
Her form was a smudge of silhouetted hues against the breaking dawn, and those below were eyes designating the guards on duty. The rising sun was harsh on her eyes now — she was adjusting to the night, as she encountered fewer roadblocks — but she adjusted quicker than the NightClan cats did, scaling down the ridges and slipping by their peripherals.
And suddenly, it was dark again. It was a starless kind of dark, and she knew that StarClan was not here with her as she moved deeper into the lion's den.
[author's note: im listening to don't ever forget from the pmd explorers ost for this]
you know i can't say no to a bit of king shayfer james
When Sunpetal padded down into the cavern, Kier was being tended to in the entryway to his den, one paw raised so he could crane his neck down and peer down at the side of his chest where a salve was being applied with nervously trembling paws. He’d been badly wounded when the League came to get their kits back, paying for a sin that wasn’t his own as was a husband’s wont. He’d just barely healed from Moonblight’s attack on him, and now he’d been pushed again to within touching distance of losing a life. It seemed he would spent the majority of his leadership with visible wound, never allowed to mend before some more punishment was dolled out. It was a small price to pay for a crown, but it did still have a faint psychologically effect on him; it was difficult to live so hated. Constantly the battered scapegoat.
And then a she-cat was just wandering down into the cenote.
Kier stood immediately, disrupting the cat who was tending to him and sending their little husk of ointment clattering across the stone floor; they shrunk back in fear, grabbing for it so the noise didn’t annoy him. “Uh—“ The confused greeting didn’t sway her; she just kept padding down. Limping across the floor towards her, Kier gave a bewildered little shake of his head, giving Sunpetal and then the rest of the cats in the cavern a scrunched up, funny, disbelieving sort of look like um— hello? with his ears pinned back. “No, please — make yourself at home.” And then he recognised her; he’d only met her once, and she hadn’t known who he was then — he assumed she’d figured it out. His voice calmed somewhat, becoming more dismissively, patronisingly mocking than anything — if he’d been respectful before, that all withered away now that her throne had moulded to someone else’s back. Now, she was just a pathetic thing without name, nor place, nor status. Little more than a beggar. And if she didn't know he was NightClan's leader — oh, that was even better; to what humiliating depths could she continue to fall to? It was a month for deposed she-cats coming to lay themselves out for him, it seemed; first Aspenstar, now cute little Sunstar. His voice was sneering, a world away from the deference he’d treated her with before. There was none of the gentle flattering he’d lavished on the amnesiatic Sagebristle; none of the coy flirting with Aspenstar, like a schoolboy who’d just met a former teacher in a bar — there was just judgement, because clearly Sunpetal had done something wrong to lose her crown and now here she was, walking in here like a throneless queen. She was no better than the muck outside the camp. “You know, I hate to be blunt, but I rather thought you were dead. How have you been getting by on your own? Mm? Without a Clan? Toms would still fall over themselves to get a taste — have you been relying on that to put food on the table?” He snickered.
They were almost the same height as he stood there in front of her, looking into her eyes with all the nasty judgement of a king looking at a beggar queen. Having been a loner himself, the softness of the Clan cats was no small point of scorn for him — and when it was a princess, a former queen; oh, it rose to heights too comical to stand. All his petty chivalry had been stripped away and he was left poking joyously at a lion in a cage — she was pathetic. Her hips were as full as ever, though; clearly she'd been getting by somehow, and the idea of how had him tittering all over again. "You certainly don't smell of your flowery little Clan — what have you been doing by yourself all these moons, Sunstar?" The question was said around a grin, rife with laughing innuendo.