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.
She spotted him across the ways, the poor fool who'd been demoted and thus his reputation tarnished. In this she-cat's eyes, that was enough to be outcaste by society. Strawberrymilk steppe forward, closing the distance between the two of them. A mischievous smirk on her lips and a teasing swing to her hips. Oh, the days had bene boring as of late, and he seemed like the perfect means of entertainment.
Plot: Brake kills Strawberrymilk after she teases and bullies him for being demoted due to being manipulated by Yellowmoon (aka a DF cat that masqueraded as a SC cat and was his mentor), her making fun of Yellowmoon, talk about how a murderous vixenkismet was more trustworthy as MC then he was, and hints that Brake was demoted because of his unworthiness and that not even SC cats wanted anything to do with him so why would anyone else
Brakewings laid on a smooth rock in the center of the wheat, letting the sun soak into his ginger fur as he rested. He came out here to hunt, but it was a nice day, so he'd rather take some time to relax. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. After his demotion, he wasn't a medicine cat but he wasn't really a warrior either, so he wasn't sent out on patrols. Brakewings had nothing to do most of the time... it was kind of lonely, but when he glanced up to see Strawberrymilk coming, he doubted from the look in her eyes she was going to be good company.
Strawberrymilk faked innocence and gasped at his harsh words. "Me? Me want something from you of all cats? Why would I want that?" But the glint was still there in her eye sand she kept coming closer until she sat near the sun warmed rock he rested upon.
Brakewing's jaw twitched. He pulled his paws beneath him and propped himself up to look her in the eye. "Are you injured or sick and in need of herbs?" he asked with strained patience. "Do you need someone else to go hunting with you?"
Strawberrymilk paused, a grin at her face. "Why yes." She was being sarcastic, but it would backfire in the end. "I am in need of some herbs and treatment...." she paused for dramatic effect, "but not from you." Her grin widened and laughter bubbled out of her. Oh she wouldn't take herbs form him, he'd failed the clan as a medicine cat. He'd probably give her something that didn't even work!
Brakewings narrowed his eyes. "Well," he replied stiffly, "as no one has seen Ebonygold in days, you only have two options. You can see me - the trained medicine cat that has been loyally serving his clan for moons - or Vixenkismet, the murderous traitor that has killed countless cats from this clan. Let me know what you decide."
She frowned, furious at what she had to work with. Her paw hurt from twisting it earlier in the day, but she wasn't happy about who she had as options to get herbs from. Did she take the known murderer or the failure? Honestly, the failure was less likely to kill her. Or so she thought. "Fine. It's my paw, think you had deal with something as simple as that?"
The corner of his mouth twitched, but his composure held. "I've treated many wounded paws without issue." Back then, he always had Yellowmoon at his side, looking over his shoulder and offering advice. She was a skilled healer after all of her moons and he wished she was still at his side, but even without her, he knew what to do.
"Let me see it," Brakewings commanded, extending his paw to take hold and look.
Her paw was twisted, and had a scratch on the bottom of the pad. The she-cat had slipped while out hunting and landed in a bush, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Strawberrymilk held out her front right paw for him to inspect, watching him closely for foul play. The problem though is that she knows nothing about healing to really know what he's doing and if he's doing it right or if he's poisoning her.
Examining her injured pad, the wound didn’t look deep, but it was hard to be sure with blood crusted around the edge. He pulled her paw up to his mouth and started to clean it, licking away the blood so he would have a better look.
Strawberrymilk grimaced at the feel of his tongue, sure he'd only make it worse. She actually pulled against him, her paw now wet but away from him. It hurt from her forceful extraction but she didn't care as she scolded the tom. "What! Are you doing?"
"I'm cleaning your wound." Brakewings spoke painstakingly slowly, his patience running thin. "I can't treat it unless I can see it. Is that a problem for you?"
"Fine, just hurry it up. I don't have all day like you seem to. Must be easy being disowned like this." Strawberrymilk thrust her paw back in his face, her discontent clear on her own face. She was ready to be done with all of this, but her paw was still hurt and he was the better option, so she stayed.
With a flash of rage, the ginger tom batted away her paw. "Shut up," Brakewings snapped. "Either treat me with respect or don't get treated at all. I wasn't disowned I was thrown out of my position by a traitor."
He ground his back teeth. Brakewings hadn't been sleeping, he'd been struggling as a warrior, he was hurt and furious with everything that was happening, and he was reaching an edge. He felt like he was balancing on a high branch, gaping chasms on either side, sucking at his fur and tempting him down. He knew what Yellowmoon would say if she was still here. She had already taught him which herbs were the best for a poor attitude.
He caught her paw and crushed her toes apart, not taking care to be gentle anymore. The scratch wouldn't be a problem unless it caught an infection. The twist would, but he was more than glad to fix that. "I'm going to re-align your paw," he told her, not even finishing his sentence before he brought it down to the ground and swiftly snapped it back into position.
