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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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.
A week spent alone, half-starved, terrified out of his mind.
Eventually, that mind had snapped. He'd been in the woods, paw-pads raw and bleeding, head pounding, gasping and shivering and wide-eyed as a kit, jumping at shadows and falling twigs - and then, in the blink of an eye, he'd been a titled prince in a white marble courtroom, watching blood-sports and debauchery, hazy-eyed stupours and bacchic pleasures, unfold before him on all that red velvet and moon-lit glass. A little, gnawing part of him, that part of him that was still the four-moon old kit fleeing from trauma and an abandoned sister, knew it was a coping mechanism, a false reality, a way to survive. A little part of him knew he had lost his mind. Sister had been his anchor, finding them places to sleep, hunting for him when his torn-out claws grew infected and all he could do was lie in their dark, wet den and wail to himself. And then she'd been gone, and he'd... broken.
A far bigger part of him brushed that aside, gathered it up like so much fine powder and threw it into the fireplace. This imagined reality had granted him calm, granted him self-worth, taken the fear and the aching heart and molded them into something cold and empty. And it was better. He was better.
Well, he had been. Now, he was currently running for his life through a dark, misty apple orchard, a pack of howling, blood-mad dogs snapping at his heels. He could feel their hot, wet breath against his fur, could smell their hunger and their hate. Half a moon ago, he'd have been wailing like a kit. Now, he let out a disdainful burst of laughter, so very disinterested in it all, and leaped for the branch of an apple tree—
He heard it begin to snap—
"Ah," he said, and was silent as it fell. He landed in the midst of the dogs and lay there for a moment in stunned silence. He stared up at them; they stared back, momentarily confused. "Must be off, chaps," he drawled, and slipped through one of their legs as they launched themselves at the place he'd been a heartbeat before in a flurry of teeth and spittle and feral growls. Glancing back over his shoulder as he pelted through the late-night orchard, the true self battled with the false reality inside his head, and terror warred with numb detachment. In the end, the kit won, and he screamed for his life.
Senescence didn't usually make it a habit saving others. It was just some truly unfortunate coincidence that the young ones seemed to always find her at just the right moment for her to be bored enough to help out. Probably not good to make others think she had a heart after all, least of all DayClan and her mother, Glowstar, but when some cosmic force sent her the equivalent of a demonic bat signal there wasn't much for her to do except join in. At least it helped that these situations were usually the more dangerous ones, pain numbing adrenaline coursing through her veins. She always was most alive when she toed the line of life and death.
One moment, she was lounging on an apple tree branch, and the next a scream pierced the air. It wasn't anything special, or new, really. In the League, the feline heard screams from all sorts of cats, from every walk of life and age range. In DayClan however this was perhaps the most unusual sound to reach her ears. The cats of the clan were used to the dangers posed by the area, but this didn't sound like anyone she'd recognize.
In a heartbeat, her rust and shadow fur blended all together, paws pounding against the earth as she raced towards the sound, tail streaming out behind her as the large feline bolted towards the scene, her face an almost disturbing mask of nonchalance as she came to meet the creatures head on.
All at once, the nameless tom found himself staring at a cat, that for all the world, looked as terrifying as those chasing him. Heavily scarred body with mismatched eyes, one of them blind, DayClan's Lucifern neared, and suddenly the ebony cat found himself ripped from the ground by his scruff, soaring over the bodies of the creatures who, for a long moment, didn't realize their target was no longer within their grasp. They ran a few paces before pausing in confusion, before turning to bolt after Wanderingwight with renewed vigor by the presence of yet another animal to chase.
It was rather obvious in an instant that these weren't the farm dogs. DayClan had a rather good relationship with those, and they didn't attack unless one caught them stealing the prey they were bound to protect. These were feral, which was perhaps both better and worse. One one paw, a single misstep and they were both dead. On the other, the feline didn't have to worry about the dogs living through the night, which was a notable benefit.
For this heartbeat though, she was simply focused on the run, mulling over where to go from the apple orchard all the while holding the scruff of the cat, who appeared just barely on the cusp of an apprentice's age in her jaws.
This wasn't the first time, not the first by far, that she had dealt with dogs. These weren't the smaller breeds, the ones she could kill in a head on battle. Well, one or two were, but with the others, that was both impractical and rather idiotic to try. She'd have to be smarter about this one. Not that she minded. She rather appreciated the challenge.
He scarcely had time to suck in a terrified gasp of air and scrabble to a half-stop before the nameless she-cat had grabbed him in her jaws and hauled him over the perplexed heads of the dogs. As she sprinted through the dark orchard with his scruff in her teeth, he was trapped somewhere between humiliated rage at the affront on his person and the assumption that he was incapable of getting out of the unfortunate muddle by himself, and squealing terror that was all relief and hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!
His tail dangled in the air below him, trodden on every few steps by the she-cat as she ran; he flicked it up and clamped down on it with his jaws, moaning in disgust at the shame of it all. The dogs howled and barked behind them, the sound twice as loud as ever in the silent grove. “I certainly appreciate the drama,” he hissed around the fur of his tail, horrified by how young and helpless his voice sounded out loud when he was aiming for distinguished; he squinted against the cold air lashing past him, turning his head as far away from it as he could with her teeth digging into his scruff, “but this is all rather unneces—dog!”
He shrieked the last word, eyes widening as they caught on a slobbering hound erupting from an intersecting path among the trees, and wriggled to try and get free of her grip. Mist swirled around the paws of the dog, ghostly and violent. “Put me down, put me down, put me down, you’re going to get us both killed!”
It was a terrible inconsistency of his, the fact that pride came before death and self-preservation came before honour; it was an even more terrible truth that he would now be held in the debt of this she-cat, if either of them made it out of this alive. Which, quite frankly, looked rather unlikely at this particular point in time. How exquisite, he thought, forcing the eerie calm over the screaming thoughts of the kit he really was, to die for some folly of a perfect stranger.
Her teeth ground tighter into his scruff as she reared on her hind paws, spinning and launching herself away at a right angle just as the dog would have collided with the both of them, it's breath hot on the back of her neck. But it's snapping jaws were just a hare short, and it careened directly into the rest, stalling for a precious few moments that they needed. If she was lucky, they'd start fighting among themselves and forget about the two juicy bits of prey they missed. Senescence wasn't ever lucky however. After their moment of confusion, they were back on the pair's tail, the barking ringing loudly in her ears over the young tom's protests.
She didn't bother dignifying his comments with a response. Her energy was best spent getting them out alive, he could complain when they made it through this, and not a moment before. As far as clans went, DayClan was probably the worst to encounter such a pack of dogs. The apple trees were too short to offer adequate cover, and most of the rest of the territory was rolling field of one type or other. She could intersect with the farm dogs, who would fight to the death for her, but at this hour, most would be sleeping, and their twoleg would take far too long waking up for her liking. They didn't have the time to make it to another territory, let alone the city, which would have been ideal. So, she decided, ultimately, on Endless Falls. Risky, but a fifty-fifty chance was better than practically zero.
Curving her trail towards where she wanted to go, the long legged feline continued to run, bolting along fast and steady, leaping over fallen branches and twirling around the dogs as they raced behind, until the ground began to slope upwards around her. Occasionally, she had to leap up to get to a higher shelf of the rocky hill, heading directly for the cliff and falls themselves. Her paws thundered across the ground as she weaved around the only real patch of woodland the clan had. The bloodstained stone pendant at her neck bounced between the young cat and her chest with each step, uncomfortably pressing into her fur, but she hardly noticed.
Faster and faster she went, the distance of the dogs creeping up on her, until all at once, the trees broke, a single branch extending over the cliff ahead of them, then nothingness. In a heartbeat, they were out in open air, before crashing down onto that individual branch, bending and creaking even with their own weight. Her claws burned as they dug into the bark, halting them from going over the edge by mere inches. Below them were rocks, sharp and dangerous for anyone to fall on. The pool of water stood only a few fox lengths away, the roar of the waterfall almost entirely indistinguishable from the triumphant yips and calls of the dogs.
But their victory was short lived as the vast majority threw themselves over the edge, only to land on the stones below with a sickening crack. The lucky one or two that managed to make it onto the branch realized their mistake only a heartbeat too late as the wood splintered and cracked, the Bright Brigade feline turning and launching herself off instantly towards the pool below. "Hold your breath." Her muffled voice ordered as they soared out into the air just a heartbeat before the branch broke below them, the dogs yelping in fear as they tried to scramble back to the cliff only a moment too late, tumbling down to the rocks to join their brethren. If not dead, the creatures would certainly be in no shape to continue their chase.
Her paws outstretched to break the water first as they went under, though she was determined to not let go of the cat in her jaws, despite the impact. The world seemed to stop and slow around them as they hung, suspended for a few long moments in the waters. They weren't out of this yet, however. Endless Falls was inhabited by nearly a dozen foxes. Ones who might be curious, or alarmed, to have heard the sound of dogs in the area and come to investigate.
Letting out a portion of her breath that bubbled up before her and around the tom's head, she swam upwards, hauling them both to the surface. "Can you swim, or do I need to help out with that too?" Wanderingwight's voice was deadpan around his scruff, as though saving him was more an inconvenience than anything else. As if they hadn't been seconds from death. As if she wasn't worried about any more potential dangers they may face from this point on.
[ can i just say that was the most genuinely incredible, riveting reply i’ve ever read and i’m in awe, like i was THERE!! ugh amazing ♥ ]
He slipped in and out of consciousness as the she-cat tore through fields and woodland, terror turning his vision to little more than monochromatic static that fuzzed and ached behind his eyes. The cat who had taken control of him in that little fictional reality of his screamed at him to wake up, to act like more than a traumatised kit, to face it all like the prideful dandy he ought to be – it clawed at him, called him nasty names like weak and pitiful, shrieked in his ears till they were ringing; he slipped into darkness and it jerked him back awake; he slipped again and he felt imaginary claws swat across his face, blood trickling down his face and disappearing the moment he snapped his eyes open.
Somewhere along the way, he forgot to breathe – there was just her teeth cutting into his skin, and the barking of the dogs, and all that breathless fear creeping around him like so many veins and fingers. And then, the edge of the cliff loomed up – and they were flying through the air – and he was screaming; he watched in wide-eyed, frozen horror as the dogs plummeted to their deaths (look at them, the voice in his head purred, so dry and flat, like little mice) (but aren’t they scared? he whispered back. I don’t wish that on anyone) (you don’t care) (I do care) (you don’t) (I don’t). And then, they were falling with them.
Can you swim, or do I need to help out with that, too? He opened his mouth to wail that he had never tried swimming before, or perhaps to reproach her for treating him like some helpless nuisance, but water flooded his throat before he could get a sound out. They floated for a moment, the world around them black and foggy. He stared around them, suddenly infinitely grateful for the comforting warmth of the she-cat against his back—and then she was dragging him to the surface. He didn’t kick, simply let his legs trail behind him through the cold, murky darkness. He stared down into the abyss as he was pulled out of it, half-expecting to see a creature emerge from the depths and drag him back down. The edge of his vision crackled and darkness. His lungs screamed. His toes tingled, and then went numb. He started to close his eyes—and was hauled up into the air.
He choked and sputtered, spinning in panicked little half-circles against her teeth. Her fur was soft and warm amidst all the icy water and he pressed himself closer to it, the instinctive gesture of a kit. “Of course I can swim,” he wheezed, voice garbled by the water filling his mouth. He spat it out with a gasp, tipping his head back to keep his muzzle above the surface of the water. The current slapped against the rocks; they bobbed along with it, the roar of the waterfall thundering behind them. The water was dark and opaque – the moon and stars were hidden behind heavy clouds, leaving the pool black as a mirror and them dark and featureless as ghosts against it. “I just… don’t want to right now.” It was supposed to sound impressive and dismissive; instead, it simply sounded scared. “Really, I—”
He was cut off by a faint yapping sound, half-drowned out by the waterfall. His eyes widened and he twisted in her grip to look behind them. There, on the dark, muddy bank, their paws lost to the swirling mist, were three foxes, ducking and raising their heads curiously as they studied the two cats floating in the middle of the pool. “Madam,” he whispered, cold water sloshing against his ears. He couldn’t take his eyes off the foxes. “Please don’t let go.”
