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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Barrenfrost's eyes were fever-bright, the centers icy blue, the edges licked with gold as they narrowed on Littlefawn.
"Littlefawn, let's go on a border patrol," Barrenfrost said.
There were a few things everyone learned about Barrenfrost upon birth. He's the best protector of WinterClan and he won't let anyone forget it, he's the son of Goldenstar and if anyone mentions he's adopted he'll jam a claw up your nose, and although it's nice that he's so attentive to the border he never brings back to camp any prey and just more prisoners he collects. In short he was an egotistical knight who spent most of his time trying to gain new prisoners in his collection. However it was a bit comforting to have Barrenfrost a part of WinterClan and not in some other clan as he was a force to be reckoned with.
His head feels like it's being eaten alive by all the things he isn't and all the things he wishes he weren't - it's being eaten alive, or it's nothing, or it's empty. He's been struggling to feel anything lately - there's just silence and numb, cold sadness. He wonders if frostbite can leech so deep into one's skin that it infects the bloodstream. The thought is a small, shallow comfort. At least there would be a reason, then. At least there would be a cure.
There's no cure for what he really is.
Littlefawn glances up numbly from where he's crouched at the mouth of the nursery, chin tucked into his throat and eyes staring unseeingly at the cold, dark ground. He stares at Barrenfrost in silence for a long moment before an icy gust of wind howls through the camp and makes his eyes water. He squints at the knight against the wind, mind taking a while to tick over and catch up to what he's said. "A... patrol?" he echoes dumbly, squeezing his eyes shut against another frozen blast of air. He pushes himself into a sitting position, wincing at his stiff, aching bones, and stares blankly at the other tom. Cats like Barrenfrost don't ask cats like him on border patrols. Cats like Barrenfrost don't... well, Littlefawn doesn't think they're really supposed to even know who cats like him are. Just nameless shapes at the edge of their consciousness, looking after kittens and fetching breakfast for mothers - useless, silent, lesser-than. Certainly not up to the standards of narcissistic, empty-headed mercenaries who are slow enough to think a stomachache was an allergy to mice. He can still remember the chaos from the Witch's den when the champion of WinterClan was taken ill, and the vague, cruel enjoyment Littlefawn had derived from it, listening silent and unnoticed on the other side of the wall - oh, denkeepers aren't supposed to think such unkind thoughts (oh, but there are so many things he isn't supposed to be, and he's started taking scraps of pleasure wherever he can find them, cruel or not) (nothing could happen to him that would be worse than being inside his own head).
The nasty, condescending memory is a dim comfort - he wouldn't stand a chance in a fight against him, but at least he's not thick. "I don't really think I'll be much use to you on something like that," he says softly, turning to slip back into the warmth of the nursery and the smell of milk and feathers. "Perhaps you ought to ask someone a little more worthy of spending time in the presence of such a gift to the Clan as yourself." Half of him is afraid Barrenfrost will realise he's talking down to him, that he's mocking him with that cold, soft voice. The other half hopes he does, even if all it means for him is fear and threats.
Barrenfrost flicked Littlefawn in the head with an audible thump on impact. He lowered his massive hemmingway paw giving a judgmental stare, "I'm asking you, moron, not some other cat. I don't care what pretend rank Diamondstar gave you, if you're not a medicine cat, you're a warrior. So I'm not asking, we're going to the border."
Barrenfrost relinquished his intense stare and walked past the denkeeper. Honestly he wanted to hate the idea of a denkeeper, but found it hard to. Hazethroat hadn't been his mom, but she took him, Viola, and Grey in and when she died Goldenstar was there for him. What he didn't like was the fact that there were three kits and three denkeepers and Littlefawn was looking at him as though he were dragging him away from doing something important. As if! Barren knew he was dumb, but he could do the math, one denkeepers could totally keep track of three kits, Littlefawn had nothing better to do and he was definitely going to be drafted. If the fur ball thought he was going to get out of it he had another thing coming.
Littlefawn landed hard on the cold earth, letting out a startled breath and staring up at Barrenfrost with a stare that was equal parts stunned fear and disgust. "Oh, yes, you would know all about pretending, wouldn't you?" he sneered quietly, heaving himself to his paws on weak, frail legs and flattening his ears against his skull. He took a step closer and glared up at the other cat with a curled lip. "Who, precisely, were your parents again, hm? Oh, the saviour of WinterClan, yes - but the snow doesn't quite reach as deep as the blood, does it?" He was hardly one to talk - a kittypet father and a mother who treated him far more like a burden than she ever treated him as a son. But he was feeling particularly miserable that morning, and the misery made him careless, and the defiance made him cruel.
He sniffed, wrinkling his nose, and, with a last glare, brushed past Barrenfrost towards the camp entrance. The dramatic elegance of the exit was somewhat dampened by the fact he slipped on a patch of thawing ice and struggled to stay upright for a moment - and the embarrassment gave him a second wind. He stopped and rounded on Barrenfrost again, paws still slipping a little in place. "And you don't think my work is important, do you? Oh, you're so special and I'm simply a mother hen with her little bundles of fur - that's what you think, isn't it? I watch kits die. I watch mothers bleed out. I see things you could scarcely imagine, even with all your time spent tearing up defenseless little kitties at the border. The witch - oh, yes, she knows all about herbs and tricky things, but I'm there. She gets to leave - I'm the one who has to tell the kits why their mother won't be waking up in the morning. So don't you do them the injustice of telling me what I do isn't just as important as dragging more prisoners back to camp than we can afford to feed. And-- you-- well-- y-you... oh, let's get this over with."
Feeling the energy seep out of him as quickly as it had appeared, he slipped out of the camp entrance and into a gust of drizzle-specked wind before Barrenfrost could clobber him in front of everyone. He sat down, shoulders hunched and short, patchy fur fluffed up as much as it could be against the cold, and waited for the consequences. He tried to ignore his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage and hoped vaguely, through the ringing in his head, that it would slow down soon. Maybe he would have a chance to pick up a few things he needed along the way - wool and feathers for the nests, a few patches of moss for the kits to play with... He tried to distract himself with the inventory so he didn't have to listen to Barrenfrost following him out, fear spreading cold and spindly through his chest and tightening his lungs like a skeletal hand.
"StarClan sent me to him because they knew no one could birth someone as powerful as I," Barrenfrost said, almost like it was a well known fact and Littlefawn was stupid for not knowing it. His steely gaze watched on as the tom turned tail and left. The guy finally grew a back bone. Normally he'd force anyone who walked past him into submission, but he always felt Littlefawn was the omega of the clan, if he wanted to stand up for himself to gain a little respect than so be it. He might not get away with it next time, but this time, sure, someone had to give the guy a break. Barrennfrost half turned around noticing Windyhurricane who's expression turned to excitement as they locked eye contact. God no not him... He was always too-
In seconds he burst out laughing watching as Littlefawn utterly failed at his exit slipping to the ground, his laughter low and feral. He wiped a tear from his eye with his claw as Littlefawn headed back over with a pouty expression that only made him laugh more. At this point Barrenfrost was barely taking Littlefawn seriously trying not to laugh during his spiel. Oh yeah, real real life stuff. His grin only flat lined when he saw Littlefawn get up and leave once more. This time instead of turning away with confidence and the last word he seemed defeated. Once again Barrenfrost was left alone in camp, maybe he shouldn't have laughed. He could have at least argued with him, taking him seriously, but instead he treated him like he was a joke.
"Hey Barrenfrost, I could go on the patrol," Windyhurricane said suddenly closer to Barrenfrost.
"Gah! NO. I mean, no, that's not- necessary," Barrenfrost managed to say as he backed away from Windyhurricane.
"If you're going then why can't I go? I'd love to go! Is it cause you're going to go cheer up Littlefawn?" Windyhurricane asked, cocking his head like a puppy dog.
"God yes. FINE. YES, I am going to go cheer up Littlefawn which is why I'm not taking you with," Barrenfrost said storming out to go cheer up Littlefawn because he'd rather do that than go on a patrol with Windyhurricane. He followed Littlefawn's scent trail all the way out into the woods where he was resting.
Barrenfrost padded up beside Littlefawn, "Soooo, that happened..." He began not really knowing where he was going with this. He nudged Littlefawn in the shoulder a little too hard nearly unbalancing the tom, "You're okay though right...? Champ?"
He was practically the same age as Littlefawn, why the heck did he call him Champ? He groaned internally.
Littlefawn stared down at his paws sulkily as he heard Barrenfrost approach, eyes narrowed and vision unfocused; it was all just a blur of half-melted snow and dark pine needles. When Barrenfrost nudged him, he caught himself with one paw and slowly turned to glare up at him with a look that could have frozen hellfire. “It seems to me that it still is happening,” he muttered, scooting a little further away from the knight and brushed off his shoulder like it was dirtier for having touched him. You’re okay though right…? Littlefawn snorted. “Champ,” he mimicked, voice high-pitched and mocking, and gave his head a little shake because it just felt like the right acting choice to go with in the moment. “You’re such an idiot,” he replied, but there was no heat to it; it sounded vaguely amused, in an I hate you and hope you fall off a cliff but I guess we just sort of bonded over a fight and it’s weirdly broken the tension now sort of way.
“Where are we going on this patrol, then?” he grumbled, rising to his paws and still refusing to look at Barrenfrost, really more out of childishness at this point than any real anger. “Somewhere they won’t find the body, hopefully.” Not waiting for the knight, he stalked off down the mountain, raising his paws awkwardly to step clear of the snow and not checking to see if the other tom was following. Before he got very far, he realised he was walking towards the part of the mountain that dropped abruptly away into thin air and, still refusing to make eye contact with Barrenfrost, stalked back up the hill and straight past him, heading in the opposite direction with his chin raised. "Shut up," he said without looking back or waiting for the other tom to make a sound.
"Are you one of those toms who just infer people hate them until proven otherwise? Cause I got some comforting news, no one pays attention to anyone enough to actually care in any sensible amount unless you're really worth hating or loving which is rare," Barrenfrost said walking after Littlefawn the second time he walked past him.
His broad snow leopard figure naturally marched ahead of Littlefawn, "I'm thinking we just look over to the border, if there are outsiders we force them to submit and follow us back to the prison or knock them out and drag them back to the prison. I just love catching slaves, I mean prisoners," He said intentionally messing up his words with a cocky little grin that seemed to vanish instantly as if he could hide that he by nature was cruel. His eyes locked ahead as he seemed to move faster before stopping abruptly. He turned his head around to look at Littlefawn, a smile twitched at his lips, "There's someone here for us to hunt. You're not going to be a pansy and talk about outsider rights and how I'm such a bad guy are you?" Barrenfrost asked in a mocking tone.
Barrenfrost was eyeing at a small white cat ahead, his eyes narrowing, "Okay, there's a 50/50 chance that this cats a cannibal and the other 50 chance is that this is actually just a small white cat up ahead. Now if it is the cannibal I'd really like to knock her out cause I promised Snakefang that we'd get to kill her together But if it is the other 50 and is just a normal cat we can do whatever," He shrugged.
