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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The newly named deputy was all fierce scowl and bitter looks. His appointment had caused outrage from his own family, and for reasons he suspected most of the clan agreed with: for most of his life he had been useless, selfish, a bitter and twisted and lonely persona that starved the life from anyone that tried to interact with the angry warrior. The sickness that had wiped out most of his clan had revealed another side to Chimerahunt, one his leader refused to keep hidden any longer.
Fine. If she was forcing him to be deputy, if his family would protest so loudly, then he’d sour their complaints by proving that he was, in some small way, capable of holding the position he’d been given.
“Whiteperch,” he called, glancing sharply at the other tom with his one good eye. “Come with me.” He didn’t wait for an answer, slipping out of the camp. He had never been a cat to ask politely.
The small tom had been minding his own business, giving his coat a good wash when he heard the sharp bark of a command containing his name. Mid lick, he looked up. A bit of his shed milky white fur was caught on his nose making him look like a chick molting its down. As Chimerahunt stalked out of camp, Whiteperch scrambled to his paws and called out a nervous, "W-wait for me!" Fur bushed out with excitement, the small warrior dashed after his deputy, feathery tail bobbing behind him. It was hard to keep up with the longer legged warrior, but he did his best.
The ginger tom seriously considered continuing on alone. Then he sighed and leaned against the rocks, glancing back to wait for the other cat to join him. He was thin as a reed, his bones tense against his skin and fighting to tear free; he had always been on the verge of starvation, and it was the last of his old habits that he clung to fiercely with all four paws. If he was in better shape, he wouldn’t feel like himself anymore.
“Take your time, it’s not like I have other things to do today,” he answered, his tone dripping sarcasm. He was barely social or friendly, which only added to his stay-as-far-away-as-possible warning charm.
Narrowing his eyes at the comment, Whiteperch turned his nose up and shot back, "Well you're not on the list of my favorite cats to be around but you don't see me complaining." Ready to march off in the original direction they had been traveling, Whiteperch then realized that he had no idea what they were doing or where they were going. He assumed it was to fish, the Clan always needed to be fed. With a flustered huff, he turned back to face and ginger tom and mewed, "What are we doing anyway?'
“Really? That nearly sounded like a complaint to me,” he replied dryly. Chim pushed off the wall and led the way down the rocks and into the depths of the territory. His pace, previously so rushed, was now lax and carefree. He was a cat that did things in his own time when he could, especially when others were watching. Though he would never admit it, he was a show-off and tended to be a bit dramatic.
“Impatient, aren’t you? Fair enough, I would be too.”
Peering down the drop, Whiteperch let out a little sigh. The rocks had always been trouble for him due to his short legs. When he was small, well, smaller than he was now, it was even worse. Taking a deep breath, he began his decent. He seemed to be doing okay, timing his jumps right until he came to the last drop. With a startled yowl, he fell feet over tail and tumbled the last few tail-lengths. Mud now smeared his fur, adding a few more brown patches where it was once white.
"Oh darn," he grumbled, giving himself a once-over. "I just groomed too."
He raised his brow as he glanced back at the other warrior, giving him a Really? look. Was this some clumsy apprentice fresh out of the nursery he was traveling with? "You can wash off in the river. It'll be cold, but it's not like you weren't going to get wet away." His ears twitched as he glanced ahead of them again. "We'll be fishing downstream, closer to the border; there's something I want to keep an eye on. We can detour if you need to and meet the river early so you can wash off."
This was given reluctantly. He disliked deviating from plans.
Not wanting to annoy the deputy any more, Whiteperch gave a quick shake of his head and meowed, "No, I can wait until we get to where we're going. It's not like I have anyone to impress with my wonderfully groomed pelt at the moment anyway." Bounding past Chimerahunt, he flicked his tail past the toms nose with a playful chirrup. "Let's get going, there's fish to catch!"
His nostrils flared at the touch and Chim growled half-heartedly as he stalked after the other tom. This was going to be long day.
His brother was newly concerned about missing out on everything, especially getting to know his clanmates. Studying Whiteperch with a crude look his eye, he wasn't sure what the big deal was. Half the cats of this clan seemed insufferably cheerful, his own kits included. Especially his kits. Though his son shared his father's fur, Chim wasn't convinced that they were related to him at all, and he usually preferred to say they weren't. It didn't cross his mind it might put a damper on their moods.
"Slow down a step before you exhaust yourself just walking there."
Unfazed by the rumble that was emitted from Chimerahunt, Whiteperch trotted along waving his tail lazily behind him. A cool breeze blew across their path, ruffling Whiteperch's fur. With a chuckle, he threw a look over his shoulder at the ginger furred tom and said, "Oh don't worry, I have plenty of energy. Remind me sometime to tell you the story of the pike I caught, took me ages to tire it down to haul it on shore but I did it!"
Parting his jaws, he drank in the air around him, letting out a small trill of pleasure at the muddy taste. He loved the smell of the water and the marsh, always mysterious and ever moving. The sound of the reeds rattling, the lapping of the waves, WaterClan was home.
The deputy just shook his head, exasperated. He was adamant that Whiteperch's positive energy would not rub off on him. It was almost unheard of for him to smile or appear to have a good time, to actually enjoy life, and in time he had become stubbornly loyal to that image. Somewhere he had crossed the line and believed that cats would think differently of him if he let his moody guard down for even a second, and he had a reputation to uphold, as unappealing as it was to behold.
He followed after Whiteperch's step, his green eye trained steadily ahead and ears pinned back as he made every attempt to avoid looking at the other warrior. He was a cat that could rarely allow silence without comment, and he shot an occasional sideways glance at Whiteperch, daring him to be the first to break the silence. Demanding, maybe.
Everything about the surrounding territory screamed new-leaf was coming. After having suffered such a horrible leaf-fall and leaf-bare with the sickness, it was hard to imagine that the Clan could grow and be healthy again. The territory seemed to reflect Clan life, and now it was starting to flourish once more. Peering through the sparse undergrowth, Whiteperch could catch flashes of water through the gaps. He could already imagine the smell of the water lilies once they bloomed.
Realizing they had been walking for a while, the little tom turned to look at his companion with an arched brow. "Well?" he asked, giving his tail a flick. "I'll keep walking if you want but I don't know where you want to stop."
He looked up briefly, distracted from his thoughts. "Just a bit further. You'll know."
As they neared the border the river wrapped around a large, flat rock, and it was here that he diverged from the path and headed toward the bank. It was a comfortable spot where the waters ran clear and steady, and he could reach deep into the water without getting wet past halfway up his legs. When the water still rushed cold like it was he preferred to stay as dry as possible, and the sunlight washing over them didn't hurt either. Chim stood with his front paws in the waves, letting himself adjust to the shock of the chill; then, glancing over his shoulder, he shifted a few steps to the side and invited the other tom to come sit by his side.
Surprised that Chimerahunt was okay with him sitting right next to each other, Whiteperch slowly padded over and sat down, wrapping his fluffy tail around his paws. The young tom let out a long sigh, filled with content and happiness. This was one of his favorite things to do, and it wasn't bad sitting next to a handsome tom either but there's no way he let his deputy know that. Dabbing a paw at the water, Whiteperch let out a small squeak.
"Oh I can't wait for it to get warm again," he meowed, flicking the moisture from a snowy foot. "With how thick my fur is, the water ends up being my best friend in the warmer months. I love the water."
If he could hear the other's thoughts, he would have laughed. Chimerahunt did not consider himself a handsome cat, not when he was this ragged and lean. When he wasn't glaring, perhaps the left side of his face he presented to the other warrior was decent, but he would never consider the mangled remains of the right side of his face handsome. Ever since his eye had been torn out as an apprentice the grim deputy had been bitter about his appearance.
"Anything is better than snow and ice," he agreed. His fur was shorter, comfortable in the heat but not in the icy cold winds that accompanied the leafbare season. "Land prey will run better too. I'd rather have a fish than a squirrel, though."
"Oh I don't mind the snow," Whiteperch meowed, letting his paw trail through the cold water. "I can blend in more easily in the snow and dead leaves than I can against greenery. That's why during leaf-bare I do more land hunting than fishing." This was one of the few things Whiteperch took pride in, being able to help feed his Clan in the harshest of months. Not all WaterClan cats were good at stalking land prey, being that they were mainly fishers.
"The trout fry should be appearing pretty soon," he meowed, wanting to keep the conversation going. He found himself enjoying the deputy's gruff tone and nature. Whiteperch wasn't one to notice scars, they were always a badge of the past for him. Scars made up a cat, no matter what or who they were from.
"So you're the reason the fresh-kill pile is full of land prey all leafbare," Chim grumbled, shaking his head. As much as the snow annoyed him, he could understand why it was better to avoid fishing once it got cold enough. Sometimes he thought his paws were going to freeze and fall off from fishing in the icy river. He wasn't much of a hunter either way, fishing or stalking, but time had made him decent, even lacking depth perception as he was. One of the few benefits of living a long time.
His mouth opened to answer the warrior, but no sound came out as his jaw snapped shut again and his paw shot through the water. A fish had slipped a little too close to their gathering, and with a deft swipe he brought it up onto the bank and held it down while he gave it a fatal bite. He released the prey and sat back, then nodded and went on answering the tom.
"We'll have teach the apprentices how to catch them." His lip curled as he realized that was his job now. "Or, I will."
"Hey I don't care what I eat, as long as I'm fed I'm a happy cat," he meowed with a wave of his tail. Whiteperchs eyes grew wide as he saw the ginger toms paw flash out, impressed with the speed. "Wow you're quick!" he exclaimed, giving the fish a sniff. He looked down at his own little legs with a frown. "My turn I guess," he said, turning his attention back to the water. If it wasn't cold, he would have jumped in and dove for fish.
“You seem like the infuriating type to be happy even when you’re starving,” he muttered. He nodded shortly at the compliment, brushing it aside like the empty courtesy it was, then sat back a step and wrapped his tail around his paws. He was giving the small tom a little bit more breathing room to fish in, and letting Chim keep a better eye on him: he was curious if the warrior was any good at this for all his talk of chasing prey.
"I'd rather try and be positive than sit and be a grump all day," the little tom said with a shrug, keeping his eyes on the water. He could see shadows moving closer to the surface, the sleek bodies cutting easily through the water. He slowly dipped his paw into the water, trying not to flinch at the chill. As soon as he felt scales brush his pad, Whiteperch curled his claws up and hooked his prey out of the water, sending drops sparkling in an arc above them. The fish landed on the stone to where he killed it with a nip. "Trout!" he exclaimed with a wave of his tail, "My favorite!"
