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.
If you looked hard enough under the dirt and grime, the scrawny she-cat pacing the edge of FallClan territory might have been beautiful once. Perhaps her fur had been as white as snow, and perhaps her eyes had been a sparkling blue, rather than dull and nearly gray. She held something in her jaws, limp and coated in the same dirt as the cat who carried it. At a glance, one might think a mouse hung in her jaws, a promise of fresh-kill. But no, the small rise and fall, rapid in its center, showed that it was alive, and not just alive, but a kit. Three moons old but impossible to tell with how small it was. The kit's fur clung to its bones, as if the air had all been pulled from its body. There was no telling even the color of its pelt. The she-cat's eyes darted around, as if paranoid of being found. The kit mewled in her jaws, pathetic and hoarse. Without pausing for another breath, the she-cat dropped the kit, its body thumping against the ground. She turned and took off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the forest and never looking back.
Graypaw tasted the air, his fur prickling uneasily at the smell of an unfamiliar creature. He detected the faintest scent of cat, but it was clouded by so many other smells it was hard to separate. The tabby and white tom dipped through some bramble, feeling the sharp tips scrape his fur and back. When he reached the edge of the territory, he saw the small lump of mud and fur lying on the ground, completely limp. The apprentice shot forward, his ears pricked and his heart beating fast. The kit smelled of death and crow-food. He gagged, but still nudged the small mound. He saw a faint stir of breath. "Help!" He called out behind him, waving his tail. He strained his ears, listening for the rest of the patrol to follow.
Tatteredraven slipped effortlessly through the brush and trees, the swift breeze buffeting her short pelt as her legs carried her faster and faster all while her eyes remained forward to spot her next hurdle. As she jumped over a patch of much a cry for help had her skidding to a halt as her paws connected with the earth, sending mud into the air and on her black and white coat, immediately she lifted her head and drew in the scents around her until she picked up the one belonging to Graypaw, though it was not on its own, mixed with one she did not recognize."I'm coming!" Her voice rang out clear and she took off once more in his direction, not sure what was wrong but uncaring all the same.
The Aurulent pushed her way forward until the apprentices form came into view and she raced to his side, prepared for whatever the trouble may be. Upon closer inspection she saw the kit, a stench clinging to its body that caused her eyes to water as she nosed it gently. "What happened, Graypaw?" She didn't look at the young tom as she questioned him, instead keeping her focus on the nearly dead scrap he had found.
Graypaw sighed with relief when Tatteredraven appeared, his ears pulled back against his head. He looked at the warrior with large eyes, not knowing what to do in such a situation. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his tail hanging. “I was on patrol when I smelled it. When I got here it was just by itself,” he nudged the ball of fur, his nose scrunching at the smell of her. “It’s alive, I think. Who could do this to a helpless kit?” He asked the Aurulent, his stomach twisted into knots. He never stopped to think he could have turned out the same way if his sister, Seablossom, hadn’t taken himself and Amberpaw in when they were kits.
"We can worry about who did it later, for now we need to get her to Hystericplague, she is alive but barley." Tatteredraven could feel anger burning within but was managing to keep it at bay for the time being, The medicine cat wouldn't be happy, but the kit needed help and fast. She lowered her head once more and gently lapped at the kits pelt, checking again to be sure the tiny thing was still breathing. "Graypaw, we need to get her back to camp."
Graypaw nodded, picking up the kit gingerly in his paws. He tagged as her smell hit his scent glands but he held on, squinching his eyes as they watered. He held his head high and padded back toward camp with the little body hanging limply in his jaws. Anger burned deep in his belly. When he caught sight of camp, he raced across the clearing before disappearing into the medicine cat den.
A few moments later, the tom came back out, his tail still flicking in agitation. He bound over to Tatteredraven, his ears back against his head. “Amberpaw said she’ll live,” he informed the warrior, “but she’s been starved and hurt. On purpose,” he flexed his claws into the ground, as if hanging onto the earth would keep him from flying off. “I want to find the person who did this to her!” He growled.
Tatteredraven led the way back to camp, keeping watch of their surroundings so the kit dangling from Graypaws jaws would stay safe, once back in camp she sat outside the medicine cats den until the apprentice emerged with an update. "That's good, you did well in finding her, Graypaw, you saved her life." As soon as she stopped talking the young toms anger hit her like a boulder and she quickly got to her paws and moved to stand in front of him. "I know your angry, it's not fair she had to go through that but she is safe now." She rested her tail tip on his shoulder as she spoke trying to calm him down. "What would you do if you found the cat responsable?"
Graypaw knew he should be acting reasonable, but he couldn’t get the fur to lie flat along his spine as he flexed his claws into the ground. “Shouldn’t they be taught a lesson? What if they do it again?” He felt a lump in his throat, tears burning his bright eyes. He wanted to tear away from Tatteredraven and run full speed through the forest until he found the monster that could do such a thing. “It feels wrong to just let them get away with it,” he quick anger and bewilderment showed his inexperience.
Tatteredraven sympathized with the young tom, it angered her too, what had happened to the young kit but her moons of experience played in her favor when it came to concealing those emotions. "Would you like to go and have a look around the area where you found the kit? I'll go with you and we can calmly search for any clues, but you must promise not to let your rage take control if we find something and that if we come up empty pawed you will turn your focus onto helping the kit get better, poor thing is going to be scared when she wakes up." The thin black and white she-cat was serious in her offer, but only if he agreed with her terms.
