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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He never imagined those words would cross his mind, not when he was the one in the cell, but the initiate found himself restless the full night because of it. The prison wasn't comfortable by any means, but the ground was smooth, and the cobwebs he was tangled within were comfortable bedding, even if they were soaked through with blood already. For the last moon, Singedwolf had slept with a skull poking him in the spine from where it was hidden in his nest. Nobody had brought it here - why would they? he hadn't told anyone about the gift, and he was a prisoner anyway - and its annoying absence was enough to keep him wide awake.
When the morning finally started to break, the burned tom finally gave up the ruse of sleeping and pushed himself into a sitting position. Even that small effort left him gasping; his shredded underside was too tender to be moving about. Someone, probably Mountainsound, had been kind enough to leave a few spare cobwebs at the edge of their little prison cell to replace the ones he was wearing. Singedwolf attempted to move toward them, dragging himself precariously onto his paws, but he couldn't take even a step without collapsing. He glared back at the ragged stump of his rear leg. He was so useless now.
"Skipstep," Singedwolf rasped, shifting his moody gaze onto his cellmate. "Go get my cobwebs and change the dressing on my wounds."
Skipstep had slipped into the realm of dreams, the former janus bitter over his connection being blocked to ancient janus knowledge.
Even the visit from Littlestar's father and other relatives had done little to ease the bitter simmering anger that burned in his heart. Where a fire of faith had once burned, had been replaced with a deep black void. Where once there had been faith there was now only hatred.
Hatred for what Bloodyrondo had done, hatred for those who let him.
He was roused from his angry vengeful thinking by Singedwolf breaking the silence between them. His ears swiveled towards him and he lifted his head.
"I'm no priest," Skipstep warned as he went to get the cobwebs, "But fortunately I do know how to dress a wound," He carefully scooped up the cobwebs and began to unravel them so he could wrap them properly. Then he turned to Singedwolf, "I'm going to need to see your injury so get in a comfortable spot where you're fine standing still for a bit."
Singedwolf huffed but rolled over obligingly, letting Skipstep access his wounded underbelly and stump of a leg. The rest of the cuts buried beneath his fur were too minor for him to bother with treating; he only had so much patience for sitting here and letting someone look after him. It was uncomfortable to be here at all, he did not need to be making it worse.
His head flopped back against the ground and he stared at the far wall. This was their life now. Who knew how long they would be in prison together? He didn't know what was going on outside of their little cell. Was Littlestar in one of these as well, or had Bloodyrhondo changed his mind and killed her already? Had she escaped? If she did, would she ever come to rescue them? Glancing back at Skipstep, he suspected she would: Singedwolf was disposable, now more than ever, but her mate never would be.
"They should have just killed us," he reflected dully. "It was stupid to keep us in here."
Skipstep glanced at him, a soft frown playing across his features as he moved to carefully remove the dirty wrappings. "You're right, we'll make them regret it," Skipstep vowed softly.
His talk with Goldenstar in the realm of dreams had forced Skipstep to reassess himself. Reassess the way he'd acted. He had been stupid during the whole hostile takeover, what he should've done was take the kits and run. Or stop Jetclaw before she could foolishly fight like she had and the both of them run.
It would've killed him to leave Littlestar, but trapped like this their options were so limited.
'A lion doesn't look up at the birds and lament that he can't fly. He hunts, he rules the land below and makes the birds ask why they can't roar.' Goldenstar had told him.
Skipstep's ear twitched at the thought, and he found himself asking. "You knew Littlestar's father, Goldenstar right?" He asked quietly.
The corner of his burned mouth twitched. He couldn't make them regret it. Maybe if he had retained his senses and kept out of the fight, he would be out there right now, fighting to free the prisoners. Then they could be plotting in earnest to take their revenge. But there was no vengeance left for him. Singedwolf was a fighter, but how was he supposed to fight in this state?
He exhaled slowly at the sudden question.
"I haven't heard that name in a long time," he muttered. "Yes, I knew him. I was his guard before I was hers." He had spent his whole life defending this family, and it had brought him suffering time and time again. He wished he regretted his choices, he would have been better off without them, but even he was not a fool enough to change his mind now. Littlestar would be the death of him, but he would give his life gladly for her.
"He came to me last night," Skipstep meowed softly as he worked on patching up Singedwolf. His whiskers twitched, a sad smile crossed his face. "Chewed me out for crying and lying around all hopeless and lamenting what I couldn't do." He said. "That 'a lion doesn't lament over not being able to fly; instead he takes what he has, rules the forest and makes the birds question why they can't roar.'"
He smoothed over the cobwebs he was applying securing them onto Singedwolf's body. Wincing as he covered the wounded stump. He couldn't imagine losing a leg.
He pulled back after he finished and stepped back. "How's that?" He asked.
Singedwolf snorted. "Sounds like him. Do keep in mind he's dead for a reason." He had never been interested in looking to dead cats for advice. Most of them had not died peacefully, so why listen to them? Their advice was likely to kill the listener as well. Singedwolf didn't dislike the old leader, but they all knew he had made many mistakes.
He lifted his head again as the tom finished and examined the bindings. "It'll do," he responded. There wasn't anyone else around to help him, and the cobwebs were wrapped around him, so he considered that good enough.
"I'm aware," Skipstep meowed. "But... I do appreciate him showing his support... in his own way as it is." He said looking off to the side.
"Even though ultimately his advice boiled down to... just endure." He murmured his ears flattening at the thought. He disliked having so few clues...
But ultimately it was up to him, he had to figure something out rather than just lie down and take it.
Then he got to his paws to start pacing in the confined space. "We just need to figure out an angle, some way to take him down." Skipstep meowed, talking aloud. Then his eyes narrowed. "This is going to require a great deal of observation and planning." He muttered.
"We're not taking anyone down," he growled, looking up at the pacing tomcat. His ears were flat. "In case you forgot, we're in prison at the moment. There's nothing we can do."
They were already beaten, and he wasn't going to waste time pretending otherwise. They were never going to escape on their own, and any rescuers would have their own plan to follow. Though he had his doubts still that anyone would risk their neck trying to fish them out before Bloodyrondo fell.
Skipstep paused and took a deep breath then let it out. "You're right." He said turning towards Singedwolf. "We can't do anything in this moment because there's simply no openings at this moment. And you need time to recover." He said nodding to the other tom's cobwebs.
He sat down across from Singedwolf. "But you're right, as long as they think we've got fight left in us they'll keep coming to beat us and be wary." He conceded nodding. "So we must 'accept' our defeat... but you must not lose hope Singedwolf." He meowed quietly. "We can fall apart, we can lay down and die after Littlestar and the kits are safe again." He said firmly. "But not a moment sooner."
He tucked his paws under him. "Though, I am keen to hear your thoughts on a proper punishment for the False Priest." He meowed, a dark gleam in his gray blue eyes. "I was thinking we could drop a large rock on his tail and hang him over the edge of the cliff and let the Sun have its way with him. It'd be slow and painful, unless he bit through his tail to take the quicker way out." Skipstep mused.
Singedwolf's dark eyes met Skipstep's and he said nothing. He didn't want to die before they were safe either, but he was starting to believe that was no longer an option. Littlestar was in prison and very few cats escaped alive, at least back home in WinterClan. Even her mother hadn't been able to fight her way to victory; why should Littlestar be any different? In Bloodystar's mind, she was guilty of everything she had been accused of, and that was enough for a death sentence.
He looked away from the tomcat and shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Slit his throat and let him bleed out," he said, stretching out onto his side slowly and carefully. His tone was flat and dismissive. "Don't mess around with an important kill or it's bound to backfire. Get it over with."
Skipstep watched the other tom for a long moment and then nodded. "Letting him bleed out is certainly an idea." He agreed. "Painful, but certainly will do the job. Not quite as dramatic but, you're right. Then he's certainly dead."
His tone would've made it seem like he was talking about the weather rather than the murder of the False High Priest.
"Glad we're agreed." Singedwolf let his eyes close again. He could speak just as casually as Skipstep, because he knew it was never going to happen. They weren't going to get their claws in his pelt so there was no use pretending otherwise. "I'm going back to sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to change my dressings again."
