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 eaves of dawn fractured the moonlight; where previously Breezepaw blended into the shadows, streaks of gold and blush pink caught fire against the lighter shades of his pelt. He broke into camp around the same moment the sleepless sun broke over the treetops. The tom's hunt went rather successfully if he did say so himself, his penchant for hunting no surprise given he moved soundlessly and as if walking on air, and he dropped the fruits of his labor- three mice and a bushy-tailed squirrel- on the very top of the fresh-kill pile. Though his hunting hours ranged a bit later than that of his clanmates, Breezepaw preferring to rise just before dawn when his prey would still be hazy from sleep, he did greatly enjoy the rush of pride he felt for being able to have his kills front and center for the morning risers.
His contribution for the day met, Breezepaw ambled towards the apprentices' den for a well-deserved nap but paused when something- someone?- else drew the attention of his sunbright eyes.
Breezepaw wasn't the only one who had had the bright idea to squeeze in some hunting practice before the dawn patrol even left their nests. Today, however, he very much seemed to be the only one it had gone well for. A dejected figure slunk into camp mere moments after him, and had she not being gazing, in a rare downcast moment, at her own paws, she probably would have caught a glimpse of his tail disappearing inside as she approached the camp.
At least, Fluffypaw comforted herself, It'll be the first catch of the day. Those hopes were dashed as she looked up and was confronted with no less than four, evidently very fresh, catches sitting atop the pile as she was forced to drop a single, bony squirrel whose tail was barely even fluffy - and she would know - atop Breezepaw's much more impressive haul.
A pang of embarrassment flooded her as she looked up and caught her denmate's eye. For once, she actually looked her size, as her namesake fluff was slicked to her sides by an unfortunate tumble into a brook when a rabbit chase had gone horribly wrong, leaving her both wet and covered in mud, although the letter tended to blend into her tortoiseshell fur for the most part. "So, uh, did you go hunting too?" she asked, trying to be friendly anyway.
Fluffypaw often ambled around in a disheveled state, but this was a new level Breezepaw had yet to see of his denmate, noting the splotches of mud stapling her pelt against her frame. A brief glance at the fresh-kill pile saw a darkening of his expression- did she really feel that need to drop that on the very top of the pile?- but he found a bit of comfort in the fact that, although it smushed his prey down, it simultaneously made his even more noteworthy. Her question drew back his attention to her, and Breezepaw adopted his signature smirk. "I went hunting. It doesn't look like you did much of that, Muddypaw," he needled back. His tone lacked any venom as his jibs were all in good fun.
Fluffypaw's ears drooped again, and she dropped dejectedly onto her haunches. "Well, I tried, I swear," she sighed. "It's just, you know, my mentor is always saying that you need to keep your eyes on the prey, but then you're also supposed to look where you're stepping, and I don't know how to look in two directions at once but everyone else seems to have figured it out," she said, pausing to take a breath and lick in vain at a particularly offensive patch of mud on her foreleg. "And then I managed to catch that thing," she said, nodding disgustedly towards the pathetic squirrel, "which I think would probably have dropped dead on its own even if I hadn't been there, because I mean look at it, and I was like okay, okay, we're starting easy but the next one will be better. And then I tracked down this absolutely juicy rabbit, I mean it was beautiful," she paused to look at Breezepaw, her wide amber eyes emphasizing just how beautiful the rabbit in question was. "And it was going so well! I got so close, but then the wind changed, which isn't even my fault, and it started running, and I went to chase it because I was really close and I think I might have caught it, but then I tripped over a root, and well," she made a gesture with her tail to indicate her whole bedraggled state. "I fell right in a brook, and I think the splash scared off all the prey in the area because I even heard some birds fly away. And I tried to keep going, but I was all wet and the sun wasn't even up so by the time I found any prey it heard me shivering and ran away." She sighed, looking back at the fresh-kill pile. "Good job on yours, though. Your mentor must be really proud of you."
He didn't expect her reaction nor the story she regaled of her troubles, but Breezepaw offered a sympathetic flick of his tail against her shoulder once she fell into silence. "Hey, it's okay. Yeah, it looks like a lot of other cats really do have it down pat, huh? I feel that way about fighting. I'm not too good at it," he said, hoping it would comfort Fluffypaw, as he hadn't meant to make her feel worse about her unfortunate hunt. "How about we go get you cleaned up and maybe we can practice together? I can show you how I hunt, and if you know any battle tactics, you can teach me!" Though a nap sounded better, he knew there was no way his denmate would be allowed anywhere near the den until she washed her coat clean, but he figured if they were gonna head back into the territory, they might as well make use of the time.
That perked Fluffypaw right up. Clumsy as she still was, battle moves came far more naturally to her than hunting tactics. She wouldn't have been able to pull off a stealth attack if she tried, but once the battle was on she had enough pure fury and commitment to make up for a general lack of coordination - or, at least, with a couple more moons of training she would. "Oh, that would be great!" she enthused, immediately setting about 'cleaning herself up' - which, in her books, involved nothing more than removing whatever patches of mud she could still see from her fur. A quick grooming session (and a rare moment of silence from the otherwise motor-mouthed apprentice) later, her still rather bedraggled pelt stuck up in various odd directions caused by the rough assault of her hurried tongue, but to all appearances it was mud-free. It was, however, as it always was to some degree, difficult to tell if that meant it was truly clean or if the mud had just camouflaged itself between the black, brown, and orange patches already present.
"I think battle moves are a lot easier, really," said Fluffypaw, hopping to her feet, the gloom of the unlucky morning already fading in the wake of her usual sunny demeanor. "You don't have to be so quiet all the time, and you don't have to chase everything around all the time, they just stand and meet you. Ooh, this'll be fun!" she said, grinning.
"Fighting gets my fur dirty," mused the tom distastefully. He was proud of his appearance; his pelt was thick and well-kept, evidence of the lengths he went through to meet his own standards. It was easier to be mindful of the steps he took when stalking prey than to avoid the tussle of enemy claws ripping through his coat, plus Breezepaw's fleet-footed grace did not do much in the heat of battle. "You don't look like you would be a fighter, but maybe you could camouflage yourself with some of that mud and get the drop on the other warriors." He found this mental image to be particularly amusing, envisioning a mud-hardened Fluffypaw charging through throngs of spitting adversaries.
"C'mon then, Muddypaw, I'll race ya to the battlefield!" Before he gave her any time to question what he meant, Breezepaw was off. His paws scarcely touched the earth and wind whipped through his pelt, smooth and distinctly lacking any mud, and he allowed himself a moment to revel in the feeling before he glimpsed over his shoulder to see how his thunder-pawed companion was keeping up.
"Hey, you have longer legs!" Fluffypaw complained as Breezepaw took off, but, nevertheless, threw herself into racing after him with every intention of beating him at his own game. Small though she may be, determination counted for something, and she found herself gaining on him, ignoring the wind as it cut unpleasantly through her damp pelt. Thunder-pawed was right, her small paws pounding into the earth with more force than should be possible from such a small frame as she managed to draw level with her companion.
"I am so gonna beat yo-ahh!" she yelped as a tree trunk loomed suddenly into her path, and to avoid the collision she swerved sharply, and found herself colliding with something infinitely more furry yet still very solid as she crashed straight into Breezepaw's side.
The wind was forcibly expelled from his lungs and an explosion of pain branched between his ribs, the ink-laden tabby surrendering himself to the impact, the gaping jaws of the overgrowth clamping down on him. For her diminutive size there was a surprising amount of force behind Fluffypaw, and he took a moment to be thankful he would never be one of her enemies. When Breezepaw was able to gather himself back to his paws, and furthermore take a breath without his lungs shuddering, he stood and gave his coat one great shake before glancing at his companion. "Are you okay? When you said you were gonna beat me, I didn't think you meant it literally," he laughed.
"Sorry," panted Fluffypaw, a sheepish expression crawling across her face as she regained her feet. Though the second fall of the day had had a much drier landing, that didn't stop a few twigs and leaves from clinging to her pelt in place of the mud patches that had been there earlier. "I, uh, didn't see that coming. I guess that ties into the whole looking where I'm going thing, huh? Maybe I should just take a break from chasing in general." She paused for a second, but couldn't help herself from adding, "but after that I want a rematch so I can actually beat you. You know, metaphorically."
Breezepaw picked a particularly clingy leaf out her pelt. Though winded still, he found humor in the situation, as he did in most others. "Maybe if you were looking ahead and not at me, you would have seen it coming," hummed the tom. He couldn't help but let the flirtation slip out; it came naturally to him.
Fluffypaw didn't even notice. "Like I said earlier, I don't really know how to watch my prey and my paws at the same time," she said sheepishly. "Anyway, maybe we should walk the rest of the way, and then you can show me your hunting moves. Maybe it'll help with my coordination for the rematch too."
"Probably for the best, Muddypaw," he agreed, the moniker sticking to her for much longer than the mud ever would. Variegated patches of sunlight glimpsed through the canopy above, the slowing of their pace allowing Breezepaw to enjoy the way the wind teased the ends of his fur, and gentle birdsong could be heard lilting through the air as their commotion and hurry died down. "I always liked forests like this. The grass is so soft and warm, much better than snow. Have you ever experienced the snow?"
He didn't typically dance around topics much, but his tone light and merely conversational, he made sure none of his roiling malice leaked into his questions. I'm just starting conversation, he convinced himself, though not well.
"Hey, I'm not even muddy anymore," complained Fluffypaw, easily falling in step beside Breezepaw. His legs might have been longer than hers, but she was used to walking with a fast enough stride that she didn't feel like she had to hurry to keep up. "I should get to give you a nickname too if you keep calling me that. Maybe, uh..." she paused, face scrunching up in the effort to come up with a suitably insulting nickname. Prettypaw and Fastpaw were far too kind. "Smugpaw?" she suggested. The patches of golden sunlight added another dimension to her patchwork pelt as they passed over her. Had her pelt been completely dry, such a gentle wind as this wouldn't have even penetrated her fluffy armour enough to register, but with the still damp ends of her fur it blew through to her skin in a way she wasn't used to.
"We had a snowy winter when I was a kit," Fluffypaw said, suddenly remembering that Breezepaw hadn't always lived in NightClan like she had. "The snow never bothered me. It was fun to play in, and not a lot of cold gets through this pelt," she said, tortoiseshell fluff bouncing as she shrugged her shoulders in demonstration. "Sometimes the summer is more uncomfortable. And it sure stopped all the other kits from making fun of me when they all got cold and I didn't," she said with a slight grin.
Breezepaw was even prepared to slow his own pace to fit whatever was comfortable for his friend, but he was impressed to see that Fluffypaw matched him easily. "Muddypaw and Smugpaw, huh? What a duo," he simpered at the nickname she chose, though in the back of his mind he thought of how Prettypaw or Charmingpaw would be more fitting for him- or the both of them. Underneath the sogginess and mud, the shades of Fluffypaw's coat stood out and complemented well against his marginally darker tones, and though he wouldn't admit it, his friend was in fact very pretty.
He forced himself instead to gaze ahead instead of her pelt, taking in what she said while also flexing his toes through the wilting daisies. "I think I'd prefer to be uncomfortable and hot than uncomfortable and cold," Breezepaw said. This would be his first leaf-bare in NightClan, away from 'home,' and he knew the bitter chills would not be the only things frigid about the upcoming season change.
"Well, if you get cold at night in the winter, you can just huddle up with your denmates and then you're warm again," said Fluffypaw, her tail swaying lightly as she trotted along. Had she been looking at Breezepaw more often she might have noticed the frequency with which he was looking at her, but it seemed like a lack of speed had somehow encouraged her to take more care in looking where she was going. And after all, she had spent enough time falling over today to not want to risk it again. "But if you're too hot in the summer, there's nothing to do except go jump in the cenote in the middle of the night, and then everyone gets mad when you track the water all in the den," she sighed. "I mean, I know summer is better for the Clan, the prey runs a lot better and all that. I wouldn't want anyone to go hungry. But the winter was pretty."
"Jumping in the cenote at night sounds like a great idea, though. I think I may have to do that, and then I can come give you a big ole hug when I'm all wet and you're having a great dream." The mental image caused Breezepaw to chuckle softly. "I think snow is pretty boring. It's just white, white, and more white- at least when new-leaf comes, there's all these colors and flowers and it's not just green all over the place."
At the mention of flowers, the training hollow unfurled before them in a blanket of greenery. Small, fading flowers poked through the threads woven together by the stems of grass, adding shy glimpses of yellows and pinks and a sprinkle of white that was reminiscent of a fresh snowfall.
"Eeew," giggled Fluffypaw, scrunching her nose up at the thought of a sopping wet Breezepaw trying to hug her in her sleep. "Yeah, and you'll give me nightmares about big squishy water monsters while you're at it." She shuddered at the thought. "Imagine something all gross and slimy and covered in water-weeds coming out of the cenote and then dragging you back in with it. And snow's only really white until you get your paws in it. You have to admit, there's something special about being the first one to jump in a new snowbank - oohhh, that is pretty though," she said, eyes lighting up and ears pricking forward as they reaching the flower-laden meadow.
Fluffypaw couldn't help herself, and with a giggle of glee she tore away from Breezepaw and made a dash into the middle of the meadow, petals scattering into the air as she went. Seeming to finally remember her no running pact, she paused in the middle of the space, and turned back towards to Breezepaw. "C'mon, prey's getting cold," she called, bouncing from foot to foot in a display of excess energy.
He wasn't given an opportunity to grace her with a response before she had taken off ahead of him- and, for that, he was somewhat thankful they could steer away from the topic before he could chance opening up about his past. He laughed along instead, Fluffypaw's mirth infectious.
"Okay, okay! Calm down, I'm coming." He strolled much more delicately into the clearing than she had. Breezepaw elected not to mention that the prey wouldn't be able to get cold since she'd definitely sent everything nearby scurrying off, sure that that would only reign back in her earlier feelings and he hoped never again to see her vibrant spirit snuffed out. Hoping to clear those images away, he shook himself and then sat with his tail settling delicately across his unusually small paws. "Show me your best hunter's crouch and I'll tell you how to fix it. We'll have even the foxes quaking in their fur when we make you the clan's second best hunter," he teased, words wrapped by a purr.
"Oh wow, second? It'll be such an honor to only have Shrikepaw be better than me," she said, her voice feigning innocence, but she was unable to keep the twinkle out of her eyes and the grin from tugging at the edges of her mouth. "Ain't gonna be anything left for the foxes to eat when I'm done, anyway," Fluffypaw declared, making a grand sweep of her tail before she settled down to business.
She sank down onto her haunches, the tips of her ears drawing level with the longest of the tufts of grass around her. In the brightness of the middle of the clearing her pelt stood out against the bright green grass, but had she been in the dappled shade of the trees it would have blended in perfectly. While stationary, her crouch wasn't so bad from a first glance, but her balance was off and as she took her first step forward she wavered slightly.
