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.
Nobody knew who this new cat was- at least, nobody had told Cavepaw before she had been left in the Fallclan medicine cat den. All that was said was that she had injuries and had been found at the border. Now she sat in front of the medicine cat apprentice quietly, with a small smile on her features and with eerily large honey colored eyes. She watched Cavepaw's every move, but made no sudden movements as he examined her.
The wounds were odd, to say the least. They were deliberate and moved in spiral patterns from her shoulder blades down along her spine. The blood had welled and soaked the surrounding cocoa fur that wrapped this she-cat like a blanket.
"We are of an age," she said after a long silence, with a strange accent that was untraceable. "You and I. You are the healer?"
Her wide, watchful eyes would be met with the impassive expression of one in the midst of a very important task that required all of their focus, but it was not the severity (or lack thereof) of her wounds that stumped the medicine cat apprentice. He had done a lot of research into their neighboring clans for the express purpose of being prepared for anything that wandered into his den, but he had no explanation to satisfy himself with for the bizarre markings on this cat-- Willowpaw, Hystericstar had said before dumping her off on him. The patterns were so deliberate that they couldn't have been left behind by a predator. The way she spoke indicated something different and unique, something learned. She wasn't an outlier, he was sure.
Gruffly, he acknowledged her question, setting down the blood-soaked moss he'd used to pat her fur clean before he would begin to clean out the wounds themselves. "Train for healer. Cavepaw. You make wounds?" While it would be nice having someone in the clan as odd as he, the scrappy white cat wasn't thrilled about the ensuing headache that would surely rise out of his clanmate's badgering him with dumb questions they manifested out of even dumber assumptions. He could hear their stupid giggles already, probably along the lines of how the two apprentices had to be related with their broken manner of speaking. He was so excited.
A little wickedly, right before he applied a paste chewed up out of nettle leaves, he said behind too-giddy grin, "This hurt."
"Pain remains an illusion," was her cryptic response, but her teeth did grit together slightly as the paste stung on her cuts. She knew they would have to be treated eventually, but she did hope some scars would remain, since the patterns were so expertly done. Her name was now Willowpaw, but it had been Nimue just a day before- though no one here knew that.
After the pain faded, she addressed the initial question, by reaching her paw around her stomach to demonstrate that her claws could not reach the location of the cuts. "Wounds are not by my own claws. Where they come from is of no importance. More pastes or are we finished?" Her honey eyes turned back to Cavepaw, taking him in with a bold gaze.
Illusion, huh? Cavepaw snorted as he felt her wince under his careful paw, despite her strong words. "No 'lusion. Pain real like blood," he contested, white tail sweeping across the crimson moss to further make his point. She'd felt the blood smeared into her fur the same way she'd felt the herbs irritate her wounds, but slowly the festering, puffy skin was beginning to look less raw. He shook his head in a disapproving manner. "Not done here. Can keep you here if want." He said it with such authority he could have been the leader himself, but his possession of the cats in FallClan came not from a means of wanting to have them under his paw. It came from a place of concern; Cavepaw cared for each clanmate individually and paid great mind to keeping them in good health, though he wasn't above bossing them around. Standing between life and death came with privileges.
As he continued to clean her wounds and then dress them, he couldn't shake the curiosity making him restless. "Where wounds come from, not important. What wounds mean, important. What mean?" Most of his work here was done, but he wasn't certain how receptive she would be to answer his questions if she didn't have a reason to remain in the den so he continued with more superficial work, mindlessly applying poultices that weren't much more than berry juices.
"My plans for tonight do not include leaving, of-age Cavepaw," Willowpaw said lightly, watching him work. "First nights should not be spent among strangers. You and I are friends- I sleep here." It was not a request, and was stated rather factually. She seemed to ponder his other question for longer, wondering how much to share.
Finally, she spoke again. "They are an important ritual in my family. Sharing more is impossible. You can be rest assured they are not malicious, and I do not plan to carve anyone else." With that statement, she laughed- a brief, bell-like sound- and pulled away. "No more false remedies. Where can I get food?"
He didn't have any visible reaction to her decision regarding their companionship, but inwardly a stir of delight shot through the young cat, who didn't grow up with friends his age. He spent time in the elders' den or playing with the kits in the clan. The other apprentices found him too odd to associate with and would mock his manner of speaking, something that no longer bothered him unless they insulted his intelligence-- which they often did. "Fine. Nest there," he huffed, jerking his head toward it.
Cavepaw gathered up his fake medicines, all the while assuring Willowpaw that they had a very particular use that she didn't need to know (in fewer words, obviously), and then said, "Come. Kill pile this way." She wasn't able to curb his intrigue with her vague explanation, however; even as she ate, he was still badgering for information. "All possible. Family protect, not hurt. No secrets in friends."
Willowpaw scarfed down the vole she had picked out- among the stares of the Fallclan cats that were curious about this stranger- back in the den. She looked up to meet Cavepaw's gaze, evaluating him for a long moment. He seemed to pass some test in her mind, for she shrugged, causing some cracks to appear in the thick pastes on her shoulders.
"This is protection," she said in response. "I asked for the ritual. It is ancient and powerful, and gives protection to the one who bears its marks. My father carved them before I came here, but there was no hurt involved." A little physical discomfort, sure, but no pain and no ill intent. "I shall have protection from ill will while the marks remain." She finished the vole, wiping her mouth with her paw. "Clan is Fallclan, yes? That is good. Fall is an arcane time." She did not use the clan term, leaffall, but a shorter version.
Cavepaw listened to her story with a great deal of interest, though he did not allow for much of it to show on his visage. Instead, a blank stare observed her, tracing over the marks strewn about her body over and over again, committing their pattern to memory. "How wound protect?" He finally queried, genuinely perplexed. "Wound is wound. Danger come." He couldn't imagine a fox would be deterred by a couple of strange wounds nor would a clanmate hold their tongue of the insults they planned to strike her with. If anything, these runes her father left would attract ill intent.
As she continued to speak, answering the questions he asked, he went about reorganizing the den, which would no doubt annoy his mentor later. "Many ritual in fall?"
Willowpaw smiled faintly, expecting this response. "Some things are not for you to understand- just respect," she said in reference to her wounds. It was clear she firmly believed these markings would work, though it was unclear what she expected to be protected from. As she answered his question, she moved to the nest he'd pointed out early, patting down the bedding to fit her wiry form.
"Rituals in all year phases," she said. "But fall and bloom are best. Fall, for change and transformation. Like joining a new group," she said with a smile. "Bloom for renewal and freshness. The other two, frost and sun, can be stagnant times. Not great for rituals."
She was clearly pleased that someone was curious about her way of life, and she chattered on to him as he reorganized. "Some rituals fit any time- like protection. But fall specifically fits the rituals for preparation, feasting, and memories. I suppose-" for the first time, some sadness crept into her tone. "I suppose there is a need for me to do it alone this year." Not that she had been alive last year, but her father had told her all the ceremonies and the proper time to perform them before she'd left.
"I respect," grumbled Cavepaw without venom, otherwise silent as she explained the intricacies of her customs. He detected the notes of sadness entering her voice and stopped what he'd been doing to cross the den and settle in front of her again, inquisitive eyes softening. It would be impossible for anyone at all to not catch sight of the cat that was buried under a cross tongue and broken language, to see that Cavepaw's heart was open to anyone that needed shelter from their own personal storms. Willowpaw was no exception, despite that they were still practically strangers to one another. "Not alone. Friends help friends," he told her compassionately.
He was not without benefit from the offer. He was a seeker of all things unknown to him and was very interested in the nature of Willowpaw's rituals, and this would be an opportunity for him to learn something the other healers would certainly not know. Even his own mentor, a notion that brought the scrappy young tom a rush of delight.
"Friends help friends," she repeated, a smile crossing her features. "Thank you, Cavepaw." Willowpaw leaned forward to nudge his shoulder affectionately, warmed by his gesture of friendship. "Now go work. I'll sleep." It had been an exhausting day, and there was still homesickness gathering in her chest. She turned in a circle to better settle in, and drifted off to sleep.
Willowpaw could not stay in the medicine cat den indefinitely- both the leader and the medicine cat eventually insisted she move to the apprentice den and begin training. She did so reluctantly, not exactly invested in becoming a warrior. However, she could not be a medicine cat and she did not want to be a nursery aide, so she began her training without much complaining.
Still, she found time every evening to visit the medicine cat den, often silently appearing while Cavepaw was working. Sometimes they were ushered outside by Chestnutheart, sometimes they were permitted to sit and chat- or just sit in companionable silence- within the den.
Little bits of her past trickled out over time- bits that no one else in the clan knew about. She mentioned that her father was named Declan, and that he had been something called a Shaman. She referenced her family, never a clan or group, and spoke of her rituals often. Willowpaw grew from a new curiosity to an oddity in the clan- nobody understood why she murmured over her prey after killing it- sometimes also before eating it. She started little collections of non medicinal plants around camp and then forgot where she had left them.
One evening, when she brought Cavepaw a shiny green beetle as a present, she seemed more deeply in thought than usual. Finally, she opened her mouth to explain. "It is a ritual night," she said quietly. "The quarter moon after the first frost. There is a need for me to go to the brook tonight."
Time would see Cavepaw and Willowpaw become fast friends, and it was not often one might be found without the other when either one was not out with their respective mentors. Where she would teach him about her lifestyle, he was her defender against their clanmates' ignorance. He would accept the things that were significant to her and respect them, just as he'd said he would. If they shared a meal, he would listen to her prayer in silence and mew something quiet when she finished. Though he could not form the words to express his feelings, he tried his best to incorporate the things she explained into his own habits, so the sentiment was understood between them even if they never spoke of it.
When Willowpaw approached him, setting the insect before him, Cavepaw was just finishing up a lesson with Chesnutheart about the pilons-- soul stones that the old medicine cats of FallClan used to convene with StarClan. It made him think of Willowpaw, and he smiled when she entered his den, per their routine. "We go," he agreed without her directly asking him to go along. "Explain ritual while walk?" He glanced across at his mentor, who'd excused him for the rest of the evening, and flicked his tail in farewell before the pair of oddball apprentices exited the den.
Willowpaw had not expected anyone to be truly accepting of her so soon, and thus was all the more attached to Cavepaw for it. She knew her goal ultimately was to find someone who accepted her ways and would rejoin her group with her in a few years, but she had not expected it to happen this quickly. Alas, as ignorant of the finer points of the warrior code as she was, she did not know that these healers were not allowed mates.
"Of course," she said, accepting his presence without surprise or protest. It would be good to start teaching her decided future mate the rituals in detail, so he would join the group more easily. Of course Cavepaw did not know Willowpaw was planning out his future, but that was of no consequence.
They made their way down to the winding brook that Willowpaw had hunted for in the prior weeks. As they walked, the fluffy brown she-cat spoke. "Tonight is a ritual for memories. Running water is like memories, to us." She tried to repeat the words as solemnly as her father had, in their unique tongue. "Clan cats, from what I see, view memories as contained. One cat, one set of memories. Stories may be passed down from parent to child, but not life experiences."
They reached the brook, and Willowpaw motioned for Cavepaw to sit beside her, placing her feet in the frigid running water. "My family knows memories are like water- all connected. Brook becomes river, flows to sea. Sea washes up on shore, comes down as rain again. Memories flow into one another, passing from generation to generation, reincarnating in new cats. Even as things change, as cats change, memories merge consistently."
"There is no commune with our ancestors as you do with Starclan. Our ancestors do not move on to a different plane- they flow into us, keeping our traditions and memories alive. So tonight, we sit with feet in running water, and reflect back on our memories, on our ancestors, who live on in us." Willowpaw fell silent, closing her eyes, and did as she said, remembering her parents and the stories of their lineage.
Though Willowpaw taught him much about her culture, there were still intricate details left unknown to Cavrpaw-- the most important details that would later cause them both grief. Courting and kits were very far from his mind, although it would be untrue to claim he was not becoming fond of his new companion. It wasn't the love between two mates he felt, but more the kinship of two cats who understood one another and supported each other. Love was not something he was versed in nor something he would be permitted to feel.
Still, he enjoyed her company and enjoyed her lessons, absorbing what she said like a sponge. The water that lapped against his paws was chilling to the touch, a shiver working its way down his spine. "Healers understand," he murmured. Flush in his mind were the memories of his first time visiting the afterlife, where he'd gazed into his ancestors' eyes and saw their lifetimes before him, where he felt the triumph of the leaders in his blood and the reverence of the ancient medicine cats immortalized in his legacy. Most clan cats only heard the storiess; but, like Willowpaw's family, Cavepaw experienced their lives. He was no living ancestor, but he bore the white pelt and amber eyes of Bonecave, his namesake before he took on the 'star suffix.
He lapsed into a similar silence as Willowpaw, the glimpses of his own memories as well as those gifted to him flashing behind his closed eyelids. His paws were becoming numb where they were submerged but he never faltered, intent on seeing out Willowpaw's ritual to the end.
After a lengthy stretch of time, Willowpaw pulled her feet out of the water and nudged Cavepaw to do the same. "It is not necessary to discuss what was reflected on- but we can." Licking her paws to bring the bloodflow back into them, she flicked back an ear as she thought back to her own memories.
"My family is very old," she said. "As all are, supposedly. We have long kept the traditions. I appear like my great grandmother, a great ritualist. Like my father, that is what warms my bones. My brother in Moonclan is a good healer, like you. You are respectful, Cavepaw. You would like my family."
She started back towards camp, a content look on her face. "What did you see?"
Moving away from the bank and shaking his frozen paws, his muzzle rose towards the sky, Cavepaw indicating for Willowpaw to do the same. "Dream of kin too. Kin among stars guide paws, many leaders and healers. Show me lives and give knowledge and guidance." As if aware that their descendant spoke of them, a comet blazed across the sky, his amber eyes following its trail until it disappeared between the stars.
He was pleased to know she thought he would get on with her family, and despite himself there was a pink hue coloring his cheeks that made him thankful for the darkness enfolding them. "Healers unlike warriors. Stars speak with healers. Kin speak with me, share secrets and prophecies. Stars like Cavepaw." He was their messenger-- or he would be, one day. He drew favor from his ancestors with his steady wisdom and solid demeanor, which were the same qualities that drew Willowpaw to him.
"A beautiful spirituality," Willowpaw commented with a smile. It was custom in her family for people to develop their own beliefs and exchange ideas freely, and Cavepaw's way of thinking seemed similar to hers, but still unique.
"Cats like Cavepaw, too," she brushed against his shoulder. "At the least, I do. You are nice to me- to everyone. It does not bother when the others laugh at me, but it is nice to be appreciated too."
