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!
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No matter what he said or did, it was never going to be the same again.
Was that a good thing? Was it bad?
Truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel. Though he was still quite young, his life was already turning out to be a roller coaster. He didn’t want to ride anymore. It was already hard enough naturally coming by a stigma due to his parentage — with the WinterClan leader his mother, an unknown tom as his father, and his mother so far already becoming pregnant and having yet another litter with another random fling — but now he had to deal with one more item on his list that painted him as ‘untouchable’. That segregated him from the rest of the clan. He hadn’t asked for this. He didn’t want it. If there was ever a soul more introverted and longed to blend in with the crowd than Ghoul, he’d both love and hate to meet them.
Sighing heavily, he continued his solo patrol of the border, admittedly getting regularly lost in his head. Why did she do it? What was her motive? Valleystar wasn’t your usual maternal presence. She always had a drive; always had a plan, even if she was the only one who knew about it. He didn’t trust her.
Many would, perhaps, be ecstatic to be promoted not only to a warrior after only four moons of training, but also to a knight. A position directly underneath the Sovereign and Crowned. A position of honor and respect, held by only the most experienced in the clan.
He hated it.
Sighing, he stopped and lifted his head up to the perpetual gray skies, surprised to find a patch of blue beyond the clouds. In this eternal winter wonderland, it was so rare to be greeted by the sun. He found hope rising within him, despite the darkness that gnawed at the edges of his mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, his mother knew what she was doing. Maybe it was a sign from StarClan. Maybe it was fate.
A sliding sound roused him from his reverie and he blinked in confusion. What- thump. He exhaled a slow, shaky breath, eyes closing, fury building within him. The snow that fell atop his head would’ve melted in his rage if it wasn’t contained.
"Knighthood not all its cut out to be?" Specklepaws efeminite voice chimed from behind the sulking young tom. To be fair, they were the same age, yet they were worlds apart- for Specklepaw was a convict, one of the lowest of the lows in the clan. A SpringClan refugee who decided to stay for the sake of his brother. The mottled black and white tom lightly brushed past his groupmate, his superior.
The white tom turned an unamused look on the runaway, a sneer threatening to adorn his face like the world's most unattractive accessory before he stopped himself. He was too tired to continue to play the part; too emotionally drained to come up with a witty retort. Though irritation simmered under his skin like it always did whenever Specklepaw was involved, he couldn't find it in himself to send the apprentice packing – again. Instead, he shook his head free of the snow and sat down, ignoring the chill that slowly seeped into his bones, like water soaking into cloth. He was a winterbourne; he was used to the cold, but it didn't mean it didn't affect him. "Yeah," he muttered, trying to keep as much of the dejection as he felt out of his voice, "why are you here?" The usual acidity that laced his tone was absent.
The skinny tom frowned. “I’m supposed to be hunting for the clan. I’ve only got a few more prey before I’m allowed to eat.” Being a Convict, Specklepaw wasn’t allowed to sleep in camp or eat with the rest of the warriors, having to hunt for the clan in order to prove his worth. Then he can be considered for membership. It stung even more to come from Ghoulmask. The tom was so handsome and mysterious. Specklepaw was so enamored with him, and yet, Ghoulmask didn’t even want to get to know the SpringClan apprentice.
Ghoulmask snorted, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "Shouldn't that be your number one priority then? I'd think an empty stomach would spur you to move on to the hunting grounds, instead of sitting here attempting at banter with me – and failing, by the way." He stood and stretched his shoulders, sighing heavily. Any remaining fight left in him was removed with that one move. "Come on. I'll help you." He looked at him. "And before you say it," he dropped into a falsetto, "It's my task, my duty. If you help me, they won't let me eat again!" He dropped the fake tone just as quickly. "They won't have a single lick of evidence to back that up. I'm a knight; if nothing else, I'm guarding you from the big bads out there that'd wanna eat your tiny head."
He was half flattered that Ghoulmask would even take the time of day to be around him, yet it still stung that he acted as if it was a chore. The soldiers and Knights were supposed to watch the Convicts and Trials anyway, and yet, Ghoulmask seemed to do everything he could to stay away from Specklepaw. He sighed, watching his breath dissipate slowly into the frigid air. The Convict followed the Knight further away from the border and back up the mountain, into a popular hunting area- though, by this time, Specklepaw figured that most of the good prey would have already been taken.
That's alright, though. It just meant more time with his favorite clanmate.
