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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Foxfable stretched his legs as he let his golden gaze shift across the camp. He had withdrawn into himself since the battle with NightClan, since the day he let another tom die on his behalf. It had made him realize he was a coward- at the end of the day, when push came to shove, when his life was actually in danger, the tom ran. It was enough to make him sick at himself, which anyone could notice if they glanced at his slumped shoulders for even a minute.
Cypresspaw was new. Very new. And very nervous at that, flittering around camp like an anxious bird, unsure of what to do, what to say, who to talk too. It was all so confusing, and part of him wanted to simply pack up and go back home. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option, so he stared around Summerclan's camp with wide, confused eyes, trying to memorize all his new clanmates, occasionally sent a nervous glance over his shoulder or the area surrounding him. He was hesitant, tried to separate himself from everyone even though he longed for some sort of kinship or community, felt too apprehensive to even talk to anyone at all, so he stuck to himself.
Trying to move away from where he had positioned himself near the edge of camp for the morning, watching and judging and studying how he should be, move, feel like, he tripped, hitting the ground with a startled, interrupted noise. During the trip here, he had bent his paw weirdly, something which he was supposed to take time off of, hence why he was in camp so much, a fact he simply kept forgetting, tended to put too much pressure that the pain made him loose his balance altogether. When he went to get back up, he noticed the glowering tom sitting just in front of him, froze for a moment before rolling onto his back, trying his hardest to act like it had been a natural occurance.
"Lovely day, isn't it? I like …" his eyes flickered around for a moment, "... laying down in the sun, on such fine days — don't you?" He was shaking, looking as unrelaxed as possible, but gave a too-wide, toothy smile anyway.
The garden keeper's instincts took over, and he moved closer to the tom's side. He glanced at the other's paw, concern flecking his gaze. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quiet. "I could take a look at it for you if you want. I've spent... plenty of time in the medicine cat's den, and during one of my longest stays, I was around..." He was around Pinesimmer after his father had shattered his legs. "... a tom that had gotten into an accident and needed a lot of orthopedic care. Ahava occassionally needed an extra paw to help with the bindings," he then assured. He did know what he was doing, unfortunately.
It was only then that Foxfable realized he was probably overstepping. His ears pinned to the back of his head and he took a step back. The last few moons had left the garden keeper starting to crack. "I mean... uh... yeah... sunbathing is fun..." he corrected, not making eye contact.
Before the tom could worry too much, Cypresspaw got to his feet, making sure not to put anymore pressure on his paw. He hardly knew what any of those words actually meant, nodded anyway to show he was listening before he realized he didn't know what he just agreed too. He sat back, looked over the tom who had just seemed so intimidating before, but now seemed much gentler, kinder. It was interesting how someone's attitude could change at a snap — he found it fascinating.
"Oh! That sounds bad, is he alright? Are you alright?" Then, he backpaddled, realized how rude it may sound, "not that you seem wrong or anything. I was just wondering, you know? Not that I just … assumed, you weren't." His tail had moved to wrap around himself, his working paw beginning to kneed and pull at it, sprain held hovering just above the ground.
The young tom chuckled at his words, before leaning over the injured paw. It looked swollen and painful, and he felt a pang of sympathy pain flood his own appendage. "I... have had a long few months," the tom meowed in response to the question, his tone a little hesitant. That was an understatement. The last six moons had left him realizing his dad had cheated on his mom, relocating to SummerClan, almost being killed a few times, getting someone else killed... "Sometimes, if I'm not focused on something, my mind wanders to all of the things that have went wrong." He chuckled again, but this time without humor in his tone. He put a slight pressure on the paw, watching for a reaction.
He then pulled away and stood up, motioning him to follow. "I know just the thing, but we'll have to get to the medicine den. You can use my shoulder for support, alright?" he meowed.
"Oh, me too," he said, a little too excited at the prospect of relating to the tom, shrunk back a little to watch him examine his paw, "I do the same thing, like in my old home there wasn't much else to do than think." There was no need to say anything about the fact that he had his impeding death hanging over his head, the fact his parents wanted to use it for their own quest for immortality. He stared Foxfable stood, nodded, though was reluctant to lean on him at all.
"Cypresspaw," it was a sudden intrusion on their settled silence, a proper introduction, edged with a cheerful sort of awkwardness, like he didn't know what he was doing but was willing to try anyway. That was his name now, he had pretty much left his old one behind, save for the small little pocket in his mind that he kept for it and everything associated with it. He still didn't quite understand how Summerclan worked, why their names were like that, why some were similar and why some weren't, why they lived the way they did — really, it was interesting, a fascinating study, though he would never call it that, because he wasn't here to learn, he was here to live.
Oh, duh. If he didn't know the cat's name, it probably meant that he was new, which meant that he obviously had somewhere he lived before this. A pang of sympathy radiated out to the other; Foxfable remembered the first few days he was in SummerClan. Of course, though, he had been surrounded by family. Had this other cat been accompanied by someone? He could only imagine it stung even more if Cypresspaw had been here all alone.
"Up until probably right before you got here, there wasn't much to do here other than think, either," he meowed with a faint laugh, shuddering at the memory. "They turned the elders den into a prison for my family and Ratstar's family and there wasn't much else to do other than look at each other and hate our lives." He laughed again, before his eyes widened. "Not to trauma dump on ya. I get a little carried away sometimes." More often than not, Foxfable was almost incapable of censoring what he said; whatever came to mind slipped out of his lips. SummerClan was probably lucky that he was a sweet kid, otherwise they'd probably have a problem with him saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
"Whatever happened to you back there," he then meowed, suddenly serious again, "it'll all be okay now. That's the good thing about SummerClan. They may look meek, but when push comes to shove, they'll fight like hell against anything that tries to hurt any one of them." As he spoke, his eyes clouded slightly, thinking of Fallenredemption. That had been exactly what the other had done; fought like hell to save Foxfable's life. He blinked the sadness away.
"Cypresspaw, that's a nice name," he meowed, quickly changing the topic. His voice once again carried its normal flittering tone, although it was more hesitant than it once had been.
The duo reached the medicine cat den, and Foxfable moved away slightly so that he could pad in first. He checked to see if the coast was clear, before motioning for him to follow. "Sunny's probably out collecting herbs," he decided, "which means we should have a little while before she comes back. And if she comes back early, between you and me," he leaned in closer, "I'm pretty sure I can convince her not to care." When he spoke of Sunpaw, any sadness that had been present in his eyes dissipated. When he had saw her for the first time after the battle, realized that she was okay, he had felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He'd made her promise that if they got separated, she'd be okay. She was his best friend around here, one of the few cats that seemed to understand him, another outsider. They had to band together, right? Crow and Aunt Orchiddrop and Mama, he and Sunpaw, all bonded together because they all intrinsically knew what it meant to have not been here their whole lives. Would he and Cypresspaw share that same connection? Time would only tell.
"Sit," he motioned, before turning into Sunpaw's stores. The supplies were low because of NightClan; the tom knew that as soon as he had a moment to himself, he'd have to gather up what remaining strength he had to replace it immediately.
The entire time Foxfable spoke, Cypresspaw didn't take his eyes off of him — wouldn't that be rude of him? His family certainly seemed to think so, and he could only assume it carried to Summerclan. Since he had stumbled in, dazed and confused and looking for a sense of safety, even if temporary, he hadn't had time to adjust to their customs, their life, aside from a name and a place in the apprentice's den.
He gave a sympathetic look, "It's alright; that sounds terrible," and though his voice didn't hold as much conviction as the words he spoke (he'd spent so long pushing down his emotions, it would be difficult to bring them all up now), he really did mean it. His parents had always kept him on a tight leash, filled him with fears of the outside world and its monsters, and while it wasn't perfect he could never imagine anything like what the other tom was describing.
Whatever happened to you back there. Cypresspaw laughed hesitantly at the words, didn't exactly know what to say — thank you, maybe? — and so, he moved on, let the topic change suddenly and pretended not to notice.
"Thank you! I like it much more than my old one." Cypresses would grow near his old home, and while he wasn't too fond of the strange naming system, the paw add-on, he supposed it had a ring to it — it was something of his own, something that would, apparently, change with him. When they reached the medicine-cat den, gave a it a proper, curious look around, padded inside slowly, almost cautiously. The way Foxfable spoke of Sunpaw made him less nervous, and even though he wasn't looking at him, he could almost hear a smile. He sat down, held out a single, dappled leg, the wrist swollen and warm. Interested, he watched the tom rummage around the stores, twitched his nose at the scent of so many unfamiliar herbs and plants. But it was interesting, seeing all they could do, all their healers had learned and used from the world around them. He wondered who happened upon them, who decided what these plants would be used for. He wasn't sure if he should say anything, perhaps if he did he would interrupt Foxfable's concentration, so instead he wrapped his tail tighter around his paws, hummed a very quiet tune under his breath, a nameless, wordless one, with no particular origins.
Foxfable could have responded, could have expressed that yes, it really had been terrible. The three ragged scars across his chest were a perfect reminder of it. Father, mother, son, each with their matching wound, a mark that showed just how terrible it was. When Foxfable closed his eyes, he could still see the look in Fallenredemption's eyes when he told the younger tom to run, get out , let him become a casualty at war instead. But, all of that was too much to say. He hadn't spoken to anyone about what had happened to him the day SummerClan fought back; he wouldn't even share his burden with Rosethorn. She had been through so much without him saying that his chest ached for a before. And Sunpaw? Something was... wrong with her, but he couldn't tell what it was. She'd seen something herself that night. Everyone had seen something that night. So, instead, he said nothing, only offering a nod, and let the conversation once again drift from his own pity party.
"Good!" he meowed with a nod. "It fits you. " He wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but he supposed it didn't matter. "I'm Foxfable, by the way," he then called over his shoulder because Ian forgot to type that in the last response. His gaze never left the stores, though. He was looking for something. "When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time with the medicine cat," Foxfable explained. "Now that was awkward." Pinesimmer and Foxfable had not been good friends, nor had they even tolerated each other. But, Foxfable had provided a service to the medicine cat; after all, it was the fact that Pinesimmer bullied him that led to Phantomfox breaking his legs, and it was the broken legs that left him in the medicine cat's den long enough to learn medicine. "A tom had gotten into an... accident," that was one way to put it, "so I spent most of my first few moons learning along side him. Didn't have much else to do but cough and have Rosethorn worry I was about to die." His lips twitched. They had long passed the point where they assumed Foxfable's chronic illness was terminal, but at one point, Rosethorn had been even more protective over her one surviving son than she was now.
Finally, Foxfable found what he needed. Taking a few in his mouth, he then turned and closed the distance between the two of them. Carried in his jaw was comfrey, something Ian is too lazy to try to figure out if SumemrClan actually has so if it doesn't whoopsie. He also had a good amount of cobwebs. "Do you think it's broken, or just sprained? If it's broken, I'll have to find a stick somewhere, but if it's just sprained, I could probably make this work," he meowed after placing the herbs in front of him.
He gave a slight look of relief, "oh, thank the earth, I was worried it was extremely dumb and totally unfitting!" I'm Foxfable, by the way. The relief turned quickly to amazement, and he gave the tom a quick, starry-eyed look, "that's such a cool name," he purred, suddenly a little more open than before, and perhaps it was the energy the tom gave off, the kindness he had given Cypresspaw.
He tilted his head upwards, trying to watch what Foxfable was doing from over his shoulder, "I think I get that. My ma taught me and my brothers some simple herbs, but I don't recognize the ones you guys have here." You guys, like he wasn't yet apart of their group; he was still a stranger, wasn't he? Draining them of their resources and bothering their warriors and — his tail found its way under his uninjured paw, and the thoughts went away as he pressed down on it. He could relate, in a way. His parents had always been so worried something would get him, or he'd catch an illness and die before they could get their paws on him first, and the anxiety had already been instilled in him by the time he was fully confined to the walls of the old barn, with not much else to do mess with the hay or sleep or stare at the roof.
Do you think it's broken, or just sprained? He looked down at his paw, held it out a little further. "I think it's just sprained," or maybe he was incredibly overdramatic — who was to say? — "thank you, again, I don't think it's too bad, you won't have to do much." As he spoke, he stared down at the herbs curiously, unable to pick out any that looked in any way familiar.
He chuckled slightly, his ear flicking. Foxfable wasn't entirely sure if this was real or fiened relief, but he decided it didn't matter either way. Whether or not the tom was really being facetious, Foxfable could simply choose not to interpret him that way. The tom then smiled at his compliment. "Thank you," he purred, a light dancing in his eyes. He'd had mixed feelings about his name recently; after all, although he knew he was named after his aunt, those who were outside his family might think he was named after his father, Phantomfox. Did he really want that connection? There had been a moment in his life when he'd considered changing it, but then Sunpetal had given the name Foxfable. He had still had reservations about the connection, but he couldn't lie - it was kind of a boss name.
The tom nodded. "When you have a group as big as a clan," he explained, "it's best to keep as much as you can in stock. You never know what could happen." He then nodded again. "Sprains are much easier to help," he admitted, before gingerly reaching for the tom's paw. "This will probably be a little uncomfortable, but I'll move as quickly as possible," he then promised. He had to move quick. He hadn't coughed yet this morning, and it was only time before he had a hacking fit. He didn't want it to come on while he was trying to wrap the tom's paw, after all.
In a matter of moments, Cypresspaw's foot was bound with the comfrey and cobwebs. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he was quite good at it; after all, he'd helped Ahava change Pinesimmer's binds whenever he could. As soon as he was done, he pulled away slightly, a smile on his face. "There!" he chirrped. "Just like new." He realized that wasn't exactly the case, but at least the foot would be secured in one place. It wouldn't fix the pain completely, but it would lessen it. "You'll still want to avoid putting your whole weight on it, but this will keep it stable for now."
He'd always found lectures boring. Perhaps it was the way they were spoken, the drawling, hubristic voices of his parents that made all the words meld together and always left him feeling anxious afterwards. But Foxfable genuinely caught his interest, he was engaged with the tom's knowledge, wanted to know more. He let him take hold of his paw and bind it up, pulled away only when he spoke again. It felt strangely comfortable, and there was a relief in the security of it. He didn't hear the rest of his words as he continued to stare with a surprising amount of amazement.
"Tha —" his voice cracked, "thank yoouu," it was drawn out, and immediately after being said he burst into tears. It was the messy, bittersweet kind, because Foxfable just seemed so nice and genuine and he didn't have to do that at all (Cypresspaw was fine), and everything was so new and strange and overwhelming but he loved it and he didn't know what he was doing at all. Loudly, he sniffed, sat back so he could draw his functioning paw over his face in an attempt to clear it, which didn't really work.
"This is embarrassing," his voice cleared slightly, and it was edged with a laugh, "Gods — Gods! This is great, I'm doing great," he took in a deep, shuttering breath, "I don't know your comfortableness with hugs and I don't know my comfortableness with hugs but I'd give you one, you know." He took a few more moments to compose himself, turned slightly so he could turn his face away. "You've got to let me help you — do you need any help with anything?"
"Of course," he meowed, before his silver eyes widened at the sight of the tom crying. That was... unexpected. Now, he'd managed to see many cats in their time of sadness. He seemed to have a penchant for that, finding the cats that needed an ear. At one time, that cat had been Kier. Another night, it was Sunpaw. Now, it seemed, it was Cypresspaw. If the tom hadn't been crying, Foxfable would have taken a moment to celebrate that, celebrate that even after so much had happened to him, he still felt safe for others. He had tried his best not to let Phantomfox destroy the spark, the warmth in his chest, and if cats still gravitated to that warmth, he'd done just that. But, since the tom was crying, it seemed like a pretty inopportune time for self-reflection.
Instead, he simply pressed his shoulder against the other tom's gently. It wasn't... quite a hug, although Foxfable was a hugger, it turned out, but it was enough to provide a little support. He then pulled away, before shaking his head. "This isn't embarassing at all. Emotions are natural and normal parts of life, and if we don't give space to our emotions, they'll eat us away." He'd seen that happen too many times before. "If anyone asks why your eyes are red, though, just tell them it's allergies. It often works for me," he meowed with a wink, echoed by a sneeze.
The silence stood between the two for a moment, before his ears perked. "Well, as it turns out..." The tom tilted his head slightly. "I went on my first Guard mission the other day, and I still have a few things that I found that I need to sort through to see if any of it is useful to us. Maybe you could help with that?"
He nodded, but the burn of humiliation didn't go away. He had always tried to be as unemotional as possible, it would do him no good, and as his regulation got worse, he found himself upset at even minor things, things like Foxfable's help or rainy days or a slight shift in tone. Cypresspaw tilted his head slightly, gave a final sniff, "I don't have allergies."
He shook out his head as if it would clear his thoughts. Maybe you could help with that? He nodded again.
"That sounds cool — yes, I can help. I'm very good at organizing things, sometimes I used to gather a bunch of straw and sort them by size," he shrugged, got to his paws and had to remind himself to stay off his sprained one, blinking down momentarily at it as he remembered. "Does everyone do a Guard mission? Because I don't think I'd do well," he was halfway out of the medicine cat den, about to lead the way somewhere (he didn't know where) before he suddenly stopped, almost sheepishly, and took a step back, waiting for Foxfable.
He tilted his head slightly, offering two confused blinks. Of course, he didn't actually think that the other had allergies, he'd picked the absolute wrong place to set up camp if he did, but he had figured it would have been an easy excuse if the tom got asked. It was easier to give a white lie than explain the inner depths of ones mind. But, of course, Foxfable had grown used to little white lies; after all, if he was completely honest about his physical state most days, he'd be confined to camp. Sunpaw already gave him a hard time when he was out too late. "Oh, okay," he then meowed, the confusion still in his tone, although he didn't press the subject.
He smiled warmly when the other acquiesed, offering an excited nod. "Excellent! You see, I know a lot of cool skills, but organization? It's not my strong suit. It'll be good to have someone a bit more experienced." When the tom stood up quickly, Foxfable offered a "careful now," before he too rose. Despite him being the older of the two, his small frame would make an outsider perhaps wonder if Cypresspaw was the elder of the two. "Well, that depends. Those of us who are on the guard have to do missions whenever there's something that needs to be done, but I think for the rest of you, it's more a volunteer basis. But, of course, I'm new at this thing, so maybe I'm wrong." He took the lead as they entered the camp. "They're stashed away in the deep lands. Are you sure you're good to make it out of camp? I could always run and grab them if you're foot's too sore for the stroll."
Cypresspaw blinked back, equally confused by the strange reaction — did he say something? Playing the conversation back in his mind, nothing seemed particularly strange, though maybe his idea of strange was different than Fablefox's. Should he apologize? He pushed the thoughts away as the other seemed to move on, offering only a strained laugh after his words.
He listened along, following at a surprisingly matched pace despite his sprained paw, "I'm perfect for the job — and totally, fully good to go out of camp." He gave a wide smile as if to prove his point. He'd been to the Deep Lands many times, he much preferred it to the openness that was the flower fields, even though they were pretty. But the longer he stayed there, the more vulnerable he felt. Perhaps it was the openness, the wide expanse of space that he didn't feel when amongst large, close-knit trees. As they left the camp, he felt the similar feeling creep up on him, of being too open, and cast a quick look around, over his shoulder, to attempt to combat it. He supposed it was better with Foxfable around.
"Alrightie," he meowed, his tone taking its normal sing-song. "If we need to stop at any point, let me know, okay? I can't judge anyone for needing a little rest - StarClan knows that when Weevil and I go on a mission, we have to stop at least once for me to catch my breath." As if echoing this, he turned his head, a slight cough parting his lips. They walked alongside each other slowly, Foxfable careful to make sure that Cypresspaw didn't exacerbate the injury - Sunny already would probably be less than thrilled at the fact he was taking him out in the first place. Their walk was quiet as they reached the nestled trees. He moved quickly to a particular pine, offering a slight mrrow of ... laughter? Was that what that noise was? "Don't tell Sunstar that I keep my wares under a pine," he meowed, a little bit of gallows humor that the other tom was unlikely to pick up on. After all, how would Cypresspaw know that pines, reminiscent of a particular murderer, was a sore spot for Sunstar, perhaps an even larger sore spot for the leader than it was for him. Pinesimmer had been... frankly horrible to him since the day that he stepped foot in NightClan the first time, towed along by his mother and father, but at least he hadn't killed his mom.
Brushing away the top layer of dirt- he had a tendency to hide things he didn't want others to see - Foxfable revealed a horde of small objects of various sorts, most of them small enough to carry with ease, aside from a piece of plastic that looked perturbingly like a two-leg baby. He'd checked multiple times to ensure that it wasn't breathing before he had picked it up, but he was still quite unsure what the item was (a doll) or what it was for (children playing). "Well, here they are," he meowed after a moment, his tail flicking back and forth. "It's taken me about a week and a half to find this pile, pretty impressive, isn't it?" (It was not, in fact, that impressive).
