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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woof His training was going as well as he could have hoped. Howlingnight looked upon with some sort of respect now that he had endured all of the beatings. Scars ran up and down the length of his body, and the charcoal bengal could not have been more proud of it. He felt the most pride for one across his neck. Howlingnight gave him that badge of honor on the last beating as a symbol for what he had become. The wound had more or less healed by now, but it was easy to see the excruciating pain it caused him.
Now he was doing his rounds near the Gathering place. The air had clearly warmed since he left camp as the snow cover had almost disappeared. He laughed under his breath. How weak were the other Clans that they couldn't tolerate the cold like him? He had to see for himself. A strange sent drifted over from SummerClan's territory. It wasn't quite what they smelled like, but who else could it be? The dark tom crept across the Gathering place, and his eyes settled on a pitch black tom not far away. This tom was certainly younger than him, but that didn't matter. If Kvalun brought a prisoner back, he could be promoted! He growled softly before starting to creep around the unaware tom.
Winter, he was realizing, was not a season he enjoyed. It was cold, and it dug into his skin, and nothing he did would expel the biting frosts. But, in the spirit of a true adventurer, he still found himself curious about the ways of WinterClan; and since he was currently haunting the territory next door, what did it hurt to have a look?
That's what brought Crow here, prowling through the night for cover, but his eyes were bright like a flame, glowing, burning. They were keen to notice everything surrounding him-- except for one thing. So reverently focused on the patches of snow and the unfamiliarity of the area, so different but so alike to the forest clans' gathering area, he did not discern the scent dancing around him. He moved further into the clearing, nose twitching all the way.
A short-fur like him would not last in the mountains. He'd seen it happen before. A warriors brings in a short-furred prisoner only for them to die in the middle of the night. He had seen the inside of the prison before. Runoff always found its way into the cave, while sunlight could never warm its depths. It was a truly awful place. Only the disloyal went there, so Kvalun knew that he was safe.
The dark tom in front of him was far from it. He stalked behind Crow until the snow started to deepen. Perfect. The short-fur wouldn't know what hit him. The deeper snow softened his steps as he worked himself behind Crow. He launched himself from behind the smaller tom and landed on Crow's back before biting at Crow's head and neck.
Out of nowhere, he was plunged beneath a chilling white sea, the rest of the world falling mute around him. He could faintly discern himself snarling back at his assailant, taste blood in his mouth, feel pain blossom throughout the nape of his neck. Crow mustered every last shred of strength in him to launch all his weight to the side and roll over, pressing Kvalun beneath him, and then disengaged himself to back away and realign himself.
Eyes firm on the tom, body tensed, he lunged before Kvalun could get an opportunity to get his bearings and tackled him, throwing his good shoulder against the tom's chest to wind him. His head ducked low to clamp strong, ebony jaws around Kvalun's leg, the metallic of his foe's blood mixing in with the copper taste of his own. Against his chest, the locket holding the nightmare berries his mother had given him thumped listlessly, reminding him to persevere if he ever hoped to live up to be half as strong as The Huntress.
(I'm gonna apologize in advance for how bad this is. I suck at fight scenes)
He savored the feeling of his jaws biting into his foe's flesh, perhaps a little too much. He let his guard down thinking that the tom would just submit, and when Crow launched himself the apprentice was unprepared. Kvalun was larger than him, so it didn't hurt him too much, but it made it impossible for him to hold his grip as Crow wormed his way out.
He spun to his paws to face his opponent. His amber eyes held the cold determination from his mother that Crow knew well. He had to succeed and take this invader in. Crow's shoulder did indeed knock the wind out of him, and Crow's bite did hurt. But Kvalun saw an opening. Letting Crow hold onto foreleg, he pushed with his hindlegs and surged up to Crowpaw's neck with his jaws wide open, and flesh tearing from his leg in Crowpaw's jaw.
He was blindsided by the attack and reared backwards, but Kvalun's weight pushed him back into the snow. Crow could only manage to flurry his hind claws against the exposed underbelly, his opponent's blood spattering bright against his dark coat. After several moments of feeling Kvalun's teeth grit against his neck, puncturing through and aiming to subdue him, he brought up his front paws and slashed his face, aiming for his ears and his eyes and his nose-- anything sensitive that would shock his foe enough to get free.
Crow sent a silent prayer to whatever god was willing to listen, images of his siblings and his mother, of Orchidpaw and of his gang members, swimming through his brain. The pain and blood loss was slowly sapping his strength, but the memory of everyone he held dear kept him going.
The taste of his opponent's blood only pushed him forward. He kept his relentless bites going through the pain coming from his underbelly. Howlingnight did far, far worse to him, and he persevered. Now he even had the distraction of tearing the poor intruder beneath him to shreads! Growls roared from his throat as he kept biting and biting. He didn't see Crow's fore paws coming. Crow's claws tore through his nose as the tom reeled backwards. How could he have missed that!?
"Skanta!" As much as he tried to ignore it, his native tongue was not English. In primal moment such as these, he still reverted back into the language his mother taught him and his sister. "Yoma ri'en yi!" Crow could now see who he was fighting. Kvalun's amber eyes blazed with anger, and his bengal coat rippled as he readied himself for his next move.
The bites may have stopped, but the pain still flared his nerves. Crow staggered to his paws, ready to defend himself from the next onslaught, but his guard fell at the sound of Kvalun's accent and the spotted pattern of his coat. His mother's words rang through his mind, her telling him of his kin in WinterClan, and he suddenly straightened out of his battle-ready stance. "I don't know who you are. You don't know me either, but... I can't fight you. I won't hurt kin," said the ebony rogue. His voice lilted with some accent, much less pronounced than Kvalun's, as over the moons he'd spent in SunClan it had faded from he and his siblings' tongues.
Kvalun was ready and his muscles tensed as Crow stood back up. What would that rogue try to do next? No doubt he would run away. Crow had no chance if he stayed. He survived before on a lucky hit. Kvalun eyes widened in shock when Crow's muscles relaxed and he stepped out of a battle-ready stance. Did the tom want to surrender? Did an apprentice just on his own----
The charcoal bengal couldn't believe what Crow just suggested. Them, kin? No way. Still, this tom seemed set on them being related somehow. He shook his head. His only family besides his mother was dead. But there was a simple way to test this. Kvalun narrowed his eyes. "Qa yo was yili soseq, yuwa crosez yima. Da?"
"I don't know what you're saying," said Crow with a long sigh, which seemed to deflate him. "She never taught me. But it's The Huntress, right? Your-- our mom." He could see the resemblance even in the frame of Kvalun's face, and he could see himself in the firebright intensity of the tom's eyes, a similar shade to his own. The way Kvalun spoke in his mother's native tongue reminded Crow of being younger, of hearing her speak snippets of the language to him, and he was sad to say he hadn't retained any of it.
His narrowed eyes bored into Crow as he spoke. That wasn't her name! He growled again and get ready to pounce again, but, like Crow, he saw his brothers eyes, and it was like looking into a mirror. It made him stop and think again. He always thought of her as just Mother or Kovpa. Her full name... maybe that was how she translated it? For all his time in WinterClan, some aspects of their tongue still eluded him such as talking about the weather. What was this it they were always talking about?
"Maybe... you grew up in the desert? Sandstone caves?" Every muscle in his body told him to just keep attacking, but his brain knew family came first. It was the first thing he learned when he arrived in the clan.
He saw the flashes of aggression battling with hesitation, and mentally Crow was preparing himself for another attack. To his surprise there wasn't another one-- yet. "Yes, we lived there and hunted scorpions and I used to push my brother into the cacti. We could see the stars every night, and during the days we would run around the caves. We're kin," he stated again, his conviction laced throughout his tone.
His breathing hitched, and sadness dawned in his eyes. "I remember that... me and my sister raced each over the dunes every morning. She usually won. My long fur didn't do well in the desert, but her short fur killed her here..." He trailed off. It had been a few moons since his sister died, and he still hadn't gotten over it yet. "She froze to death when she stayed out too late one night. It's great yours are still around. Where are they?"
He felt his heart twist with grief that was both his own but not at the very same time. "I'm sorry about your sister. Two of my siblings are in SwiftClan now with our father. I'm still searching for my sister." He hoped she did not suffer the same fate as Kvalun's had, as not a day went by that Crow didn't think of Raypaw and miss her deeply. "My name is Crow. What is yours?"
"Kvalun. It means 'fire.' She said I got it because of my fur and eyes, but it'll change soon. I'm going to be promoted soon, so I'll have a real name." The young tom had no pride in his name. It marked him as an outsider in a Clan that valued purebloods. It was almost delusional to think changing his name would do anything. Unlike his clanmates, his native tongue made him roll his r's and his vowels always sounded deeper and longer than his Clanmates. Such traits would mark him every time he spoke.
"You're searching for your sister? What happened to her?"
"Kvalun, huh? Interesting. I'm afraid my name has no hidden meanings." None that he wanted to speak of, anyway. SunClan, and all the things that made it awful, were behind him, and Crow intended for it to stay that way. He flinched when Kvalun asked about the root of Raypaw's disappearance, not fully sure of how to answer as he didn't have the answers himself. "To be completely honest, I don't know. I haven't seen her since the fire in SunClan. We were separated during the chaos," he explained, though the same helplessness was still very present in his tone as when he'd told this to his mother. Their mother.
The tom slowly nodded. He had heard that there was a fire in SunClan, but he had no idea of its scale. News simply hardly reached WinterClan's icy mountain, so this was valuable news to him. Maybe his clan could do something with this... "I'm sorry to hear that, I really am. Kovpa told us that family mattered above all else. There haven't been any new prisoners in a while, so I can't help you there. " He took a few steps forward and brushed his paw along Crowpaw's fur. "Besides, she wouldn't survive here for too long if she has a coat like yours." Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say, but it was the truth, and WinterClan cats had the habit of getting straight to the point.
"Sometimes I wish my fur was thick like yours," he mused, noting the bright tincture of Kvalun's undercoat buried under his smoky rosettes. For a WinterClan it was likely his half-brother stuck out like a sore thumb if he was moving through open tundra; however, looking into eyes so closely reminiscent of his own, he knew Kvalun had the same unconquerable anger in his blood as was in Crow's. "Kovpa," he repeated. "Does that mean mother? We know her as mom or Huntress."
"Trust in me, this Clan is not all that nice sometimes. They love blood purity, and because no one claimed me, I'm low. It's not cruel or anything, but a lot of cats in the Clan do not trust me. It's gotten better, but some still don't like me." He shrugged. There wasn't much else he could do at this point. He proved himself time and time again, and even had the respect of the leader's mate. If they didn't appreciate him now, they never would. "Yeah, it means mother. Emris and I called her Kovpa or Igziq, when she was around."
In a way Crow could relate to Kvalun, but where the bengal had begun to gain esteem among his clan, that was something the wanderer likely never would have found at home. "I see. Things were...similar in SunClan, kinda. Crow is a cursed name according to our-- their legends. My siblings were welcomed but I never really was considered a member." The cold pricking his pads, he brought each one in turn and gave them a few licks in an effort to warm them, not to much success.
