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!
News & Updates
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.
The white and black tabby apprentice stared vacantly into the distance, surrounded by white drifts of snow on either side. Sometimes, it got lonely. The culture of his clan, by definition, were rather separate from one another and those outside the crisp chill of the snow-capped mountains. A simple quiry after one's wellbeing seemed almost too much to handle. Perhaps that was why most times, when he was stumbled upon in this state, there wasn't a word traded. They acted to their best ability like they hadn't seen him.
That was alright. It made a large, dark part of him ache, but he had learned to keep his warmth from it, even as it grew. These winter walkers that he lived amongst had once been the wolves that saved him from the brink of destruction. No matter how they behaved, he would be eternally indebted to them. Perhaps that was why he didn't try to awaken a response from them. He had his life. What more could he desire?
Blinking his golden eyes back to the present, he gazed around himself and smiled slyly. There was a figure slipping between the mounds, distracted by one thing or another. He crouched low, eyes narrowing. Blame his desire for contact, but he wasn't thinking clearly. The only thing on his mind: the tom before him looked perfect for a springboard.
There were a lot of things on Cloudweaver’s mind that evening, but despite the large number of worries he had, being used as a springboard was not one of them.
For the past few moons, he’d been lucky—or unlucky—enough to be able to sink into a routine, leaving him little free time to think. He would wake up, patrol, head back to camp to eat, patrol again, and by the time he was finished he would be so tired that he would fall asleep as soon as he collapsed into his nest. It was mathmatically the most average routine that any WinterClan cat could have.
But everything had changed once he’d had the afternoon off that one day, just that one day, and tripped in the snow. He’d been ordered to keep off his paw for at least a half-moon, or risk permanent damage. It’d only been a few days, and he was already going crazy—not just from the lack of work to do, but from the sheer amount of free time he had to really think about things now. He could think about his paw sprain that wouldn’t heal, he could think about the husband he’d barely even met, and he could think about the fact that he had absolutely nobody to talk to.
That was precisely what he was thinking about as he slipped through the territory that night, just barely paying attention to his surroundings. “Wait, is that...” He squinted through the snow to see a cat in a crouching position, looking ominously ready to pounce. “Nonononowaitdon’tdoit—ack!!!”
For some reason — maybe something born out of a seed of evil in the pit of his being — the tom’s panicked rush of words that all together sounded like gibberish but slowed down sounded like a plea of mercy pasted a clown-like grin on his face. Before he knew it, he was in the air, then landing upon the tom and pushing off, attempting his very best at a double axel. It wasn’t... exactly a success, persay, as he wound up on his back with the wind knocked out of him, but he was up and at it in no time, wheezing out a laugh and shaking himself off.
His expression grew stony quickly though, internally chiding himself for his childish behavior, and he bowed his head in guilt. “I’m sorry, Cloudweaver, I don’t know what came over me.” He knew exactly what came over him — cabin fever due to forced isolation — but he wasn’t about to admit that aloud. He nervously chewed on the inside of his cheek and took a tentative step forward. “Are you okay? I didn’t think about whether you’d get hurt or not. I didn’t...” think at all, he finished internally, a beast rearing its ugly head in the back of his mind.
For a few moments, Cloudweaver just lay on the snow with the wind knocked out of him. He’d managed to protect his injured paw as much as he could at the very last second, which meant that the only thing he’d really bruised was his ego. He briefly entertained the thought of playing up an injury just to see the little brat squirm, but decided against it at. “Don’t sweat it, bud,” he wheezed, slowly bringing himself into a sitting position. “It was a pretty sick move. Might need to work on your landing some more though, and no, I wont be volunteering myself as a springboard again.”
Now that he was sitting contentedly, he was unwilling to get up and start moving again. “You’ve found yourself a nice area here,” he said. “Mind sharing it with me for a while until I find the willpower to get off my butt and do some work?”
Haunting flushed with warmth, glancing down at his paws. The tom's surprisingly good mood and forgiving nature had pleasure running down his spine. He wasn't used to being treated with such kindness; he was convinced the hearts of the wolves who cared for him, much like the land they called home, were frozen. Perhaps that wasn't the case with everyone.
He chuckled. "I promise I won't use you as a springboard again." His eyes danced with tentative mischief, anyway.
Glancing around himself, attempting to take in the surroundings that he had been ignoring earlier, he blinked and tilted his head. "Yeah, I guess I don't mind. As long as you don't tell anyone about it." He glanced at him.
