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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Birch laid at the edge of his prison, his bright amber eyes shinning as a ray of sun hit his face directly, but the tom couldn't be bothered to move away. His expression clearly screamed bored. He was the only prisoner to be left behind for the day's work. It has been some time since he and his brother Rowan were taken in hostages into Winterclan and just a day since Birch himself was feeling better after catching a nasty case of Greencough. Out of the Pupil's request, Birch was still not allowed to do any labor for the camp in fear that the Green cough would return, despite him feeling much better, but he rather be outside of his cage and laboring alongside his brother than be alone in a dingy and lonesome pit. Birch watched as cats walked around in the distance, blinking slowly as he took in the sight of happy and busy clan cats. His soul reached out to join them. Having lived his life as a rouge, freedom was easy, it was everyday. He had taken that pleasure for granted and the realization infuriated the tom.
A loud growl echoed out of Birch's white body and around him, causing the tom to flinch. The tom had just eaten breakfast an hour prior, if you could call left over rabbit scraps breakfast. Birch groaned pitifully, rolling over to his back as he stared up blankly.
Paws light on the ground, she trotted her way around camp aimlessly, unsure of what exactly she should be doing. Was she suppose to be hunting? Fighting something? Just sitting there? Nervousness pricked at her pelt, causing the silky molly to shrink into her thick fur. We’re they looking at her? Judging her for not doing something? Though, many did seem to be sitting around talking, so maybe she wasn’t meant to be doing anything at all. It was all confusing. Clan life was confusing. She wondered—had she had stayed as a rogue—would her life be better? She wouldn’t have had to worry about anybody else. But then again, she probably would have walked her way off a cliff by now.
Feeling a small rumble in her stomach, she picked up a bird—full of feathers that she would definitely enjoy later—and made her way to a secluded part of camp. She didn’t really have anyone to sit with—which she didn’t totally mind. Interaction was hard and draining. She was always drained afterwards.
Camellia, lost in an old tale she was told a bit back, wandered to a strange looking place. She had seen it, caught it at a glance countless times before, but had never had a close up view. She settled just beside it, her surroundings a soft white blur on her mind, not really paying attention to anything but plucking the feathers off the bird.
Birch remained on his back, staring up, his eyes dull with boredom. Under his breathe he began to hum a tune, one familiar to him from his childhood. The humming was rather sloppy and silly, a lame attempt to distract his mind from the boredom, but as the memories flooded back of his past, he began to slow down his humming. The emotional reminder of his mother rendered the white tom to silence, his brows furrowed deeply. He rarely allowed such memories to appear for this very reason. He didn't have time to mope around over his past, especially not now, trapped in a foreign clan surrounded by foreign cats with strange ideals of hospitality and a missing brother. He rolled over back onto his stomach roughly, huffing with annoyances as he attempted to whisk away the negative emotions when suddenly, a soft padding sound caught the tom's attention.
Birch's white ears flickered in the direction of the sound, rising quickly to see a white figure sitting just off to the side, barley in his view. He watched quietly in confusion. The few cats that arrived here were the same, he figured only a few select cats were in charge of prisoners, but this was a new face and much less threatening. She looked almost preoccupied and lost. He sat back down on his haunches, observing the she-cat for a moment before finally catching sight of the bird in the snow before her. The tom's mouth watered at the sight.
"I've never seen you around here." Birch spoke up causally, a hint of charm etching carefully in his voice as his amber eyes brightened mischievously.
Camellia absently batted away at the feathers, a soft joy lightening her chest. She really enjoyed the feathers, one of the few things she found calmed her. She liked to put them in her fur sometimes—but had yet to do so in WinterClan, for fear of their judgement. Maybe she should start.
The voice startled her, sending her feathers afloat. She watched them glide to the ground. The tom who spoke seemed new. “I haven’t seen you either?” she phrased her words as a question. “I’m uh—I’m new.” Camellia explained awkwardly, catching a feather under her paws.
Intrigue grew in the white rouge. New huh? "Wow, that's crazy, I am too!" Birch chirped, his tone pleasant and cool "I got here about a couple nights ago with my brother." He sat comfortably at the edge of his cell, inching closer casually, a bright smile plastered on the tom's face. "I was tad bit on the sick side, which is why they kept me in this dump- not that i'm not grateful. I can understand that you clan cats are protecting each other. We don't want any of the little ones to get sick too!" Birch quickly preached, seemingly friendly and considerate. His bright amber gaze landed on the bird below in false surprise "Wow! That a big meal! Did you catch that yourself?!"
“Really? Seems a lot are new here, then.” She have a warm smile, slightly relieved that at least she wasn’t alone. “I joined a couple moons ago, and i’m still trying to figure it out.” Her gaze rested on her paws, a tad embarrassed. Usually, she was quite adaptable, but something about WinterClan made her feel confused and lost.
“Oh! I . . . I hope you’re feeling much better!” He was right, it she was a leader she wouldn’t want the little ones getting a sickness from some stranger either. Though she probably would have given them a nicer place to sleep. Camellia felt a small tug of pity in her chest. He seemed a bit lonely. She glanced down at the bird between her paws, feathers still surrounding the carcass.
“Oh, no, just thought i’d get some breakfast before I tried my luck at hunting today.” Was she not suppose to eat yet? Maybe she should have went out first, but hunting on an empty stomach never worked well for her. Guilt rolled in her chest. ”Would you . . . like to share some?” She asked tentatively, feeling a bit awkward now. “I probably won’t eat it all myself.”
Birch's intrigue grew abundantly as he listened on to the she-cat's story. This could definitely help him figure out the next best strategy for he and his brother moving forward. The realization made the tom bright with content, but he suppressed his excrement and remained uncharacteristically quietly, allowing the she-cat to continue speaking. At her offer, the white tom perked up, largely faking his surprise. It was clear the she-cat was a kinder, weaker minded soul and his bets were placed highly on her cooperation if he was able to play the charming nice guy that he was. He wasn't too shocked that the she-cat was willing to offer some of her meal. "Well Camellia, that is might generous of you to offer, it's hard to say no to kindness like that." He purred loudly as he pressed himself closer to the she-cat
"I'm Birch by the way." He added with a charming smile "You said you joined this clan a couple moons ago?" He inquired, his amber orbs bright with anticipation for more than just a extra bit of food. "You seem to be well adjusted out there with the clan, the clan has taken quite an acceptance to you despite being an outsider, how were you able to convince them to do so?"
She smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to do about the rather close contact between them. She much preferred her personal space. She shifted slightly, just a teeny bit away from the tom but not enough to be noticeable.
“Nice to meet you, Birch. I’m Camellia.” She immediately wanted to take back her words. She had already introduced herself! Idiot! She mentally kicked herself, already feeling her face heating up. “I mean—uhm—sorry . . .” She fumbled, thankful for when he moved on to a different subject. “I . . . I wouldn’t say well adjusted, but adjusted enough to get by, I suppose.” She let out a breath. “I’m actually not too sure, I guess I just did everything I was told without complaining? I don’t know—“ She really wondered why she was even allowed to be a proper WinterClan cat. She was an outsider after all, and she didn’t feel all too useful to the Clan at all. Did they feel the same way? Did they regret their choice of letting her stay?
Camellia distracted herself by taking a bite out of the bird again, trying to focus more on chewing.
The re-introduction brought out a more genuine smile from the white loner as he took in the flustered she-cat. It was cute and he couldn't help but inwardly chuckle with genuine interest. Focus Birch! his mind reminded sternly. This isn't the time for this kind of thinking. He set aside the small genuine interest that grew in him for the she-cat to focus on her words and her experience with the clan. His brows furrowed slightly as the she-cat's point came across loud and clear; Unquestioning servitude was the answer to his and his brother's freedom. The realization caused a stir from his pride, but he swallowed the feeling with slight annoyance. He was going to do what he had to do to get him and his brother out.
"Well, they must have seen something in you to believe enough in you." He pointed out with confidence, laying down to the bird's level, his amber gaze distracted by the sight of the bird. The smell didn't help him either. Before he could speak more, his stomach interrupted with a loud and prominent growl. The loner winced in a mixture of slight pain and embarrassment "Sorry about that, seems like my stomach finds your bird far more attractive than I thought it would."
Camellia smiled back at the sight of Birch, feeling her face heat up in unwarranted embarrassment. This tom was . . . odd, to say the least. Not that she didn’t like that—she actually found him quite interesting—it was just her being, well, her. She so badly wanted to keep their conversations going. She finally had someone to talk to, someone almost like her but so different at the same time. He seemed confident, something she definitely wasn’t.
The molly smiled once more. “Yeah, I suppose so.” The words actually made her feel a bit better. Maybe they did see something in her. Maybe she did have enough to be apart of this Clan. Camellia glances down at the bird. ”Oh, you can have it.” She pushed it towards him. “I’m not that hungry.”
Birch did not hesitate to reach for the bird. The moment the corpse inched in his direction, he reached out to take it, digging in clumsily into the bird's juicy meat. A huge exhalation escaped the tom as the sweet taste of fresh meat hit his taste buds. It had been days since the tom had a proper, fresh meal. He blinked up gratefully at the she-cat, swallowing harder before unwillingly pulling away from the carcass. He needed to slow down for his sanity.
"So Camellia..." Birch spoke up, pure content clear in his cheerful voice "You joined... Winterclan some time ago. Where were you prior to that?" The tom asked bluntly, completely unaware of how potentially forward and uncomfortable that question could have been for the she-cat, allowing his own curiosity to get the better of his wits. Usually, it was his brother Rowan who would stop him before he would prod too deeply in things, but today he was on his own and blissfully unaware of the idea of boundaries.
She had realized, after studying every detail of the tom’s face, that she was staring for way too long. She watched Birch practically inhale the bird, a slight smile on her face. Feeling her face heat up, Camellia busied herself with her paws instead. Pointed gray, scattered tabby stripes; she watched her claws as they flexed.
Taken aback by the question for a few seconds, Camellia looked up from where her gaze was trained. “Oh—I travelled around a lot, you know.” She let an awkward laugh slip from her throat. “I’ve never been to the mountains before, or stayed with more than four cats at a time, so it was all new. Thought I’d stay. . .” She trailed off, mentally kicking herself for rambling. She pursed her lips for a moment, continuing with a breathe and a “. . . Yeah.”
The ravaged tom took another large bite, filling his mouth as much as he could as he listened on, unaware of Camellia's stares and his untidy and rather mess actions. The deep hunger in him blindsided his judgement, but in the moment he was clueless, weak to the power of his empty stomach. Birch listened on with partial interest, a bit more distracted than he usually was, but the words reached him regardless. "What made you stay?" He asked, nonchalantly, his bright amber gaze pulling away from the bird under him back up to Camellia for a moment before targeting the bird once again for another big bite. "mm-because I mean, my brother and I have been in a group before and on our own and frankly-" He paused as he finally swallowed a mouth full of chewed kill before proceeding "there is something liberating about not being apart of a group. There must have been something attractive about... Winterclan." Birch had paused, almost forgetting the name of the clan.
She moved her eyes away from the tom as not to zone out and stare at him. At first, she didn’t know how to answer his question. Why did she stay? Of course there was something good about being free, on her own, but also something . . . sad? She couldn’t quite name the feeling she felt when she was alone—refreshing, sure, but upsetting.
“Well . . . WinterClan seemed interesting, I suppose.” She thought for a moment again. “And . . . I guess I was sick of being alone. I was travelling by myself for a while and sort of missed being with others.” Fearful of oversharing—she barely even knew this tom, after all—Camellia held her tongue. “What about you? Why did you join?”
"Interesting is definitely a way to describe this camp." Birch chuckled, his mind wandering once again to his brother who was probably still out there engaged in forced labor for his own sake. The thought annoyed him, but he had to stay focused on the task ahead.
Birch's ears perked as a question was turned back at him "Well, I'm going to be honest with ya... I wasn't feeling to hot if you know what I mean." He explained far to cheerfully, pausing in his side quest in devouring the bird that laid before him. "My brother and I were traveling on our own, just two bachelors on a life of nomadic adventures and I got a nasty little virus that put our plans on pause." He watched Camellia as he spoke, giving her a charming and playful self pity shrug "I was close to meeting my maker when my brother heard your herb loving cat Chestnutpaw cry out for help. Turns out she got herself in some kind of pickle, falling into a ditch and like the gentleman he is, my brother rescued her in return she rescued me from death's door. " His friendly and casual attitude dimmed as he thought of his brother, glancing behind Camellia quickly in hopes of catching a glimpse of his brother, but there was nothing. His pleasant nature returned once more as he continued his animated story. "And now I am here, quarantined until I feel better enough to meet with your leaders." He was outwardly confident in the plans but frankly he was not too sure what would come of him and his brother. Knowing Rowan, he was probably already building connections with cats, networking for the sake of their safety while he was doing their dirty work.
She chuckled, paw absently going up towards her mouth. Her ears perked with interest as Birch told his story, “Oh my, that sounds fun.” A hint of sarcasm entered her tone. She hadn’t really been sarcastic in a while—it felt nice to joke around.
“So . . . when you’re all better will you stay? Or will you continue your travels. . .” she trailed off. “I mean—It would be nice if you stayed . . . you’re nice . . . just wondering. Sorry, never mind.”
