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.
For all of Matilde’s daring, it dawned on her one morning, as she looked through the mansion windows, that she was yet to set out on her own, away from the doting eyes of her parents.
Her sleep had become fitful the moment the warm pelt of her mother, Eshek, vanished, but it was an echoing commotion that had finally brought Tilly away from her wakeful reveries. Silently, she’d blinked away the cobwebs of her slumber, and rose to her paws, curious about the source of the sound outside her window. It had only been two hunter play-fighting and sharing a laugh, but as their pelts melted into the far-off treeline, it struck her how much she’d grown over the last few moons. Her eyes were still round, fur still fluffy, and ears too elfishly oversized for her head, but her legs were much longer in comparison, and capable of her carrying her to her own adventures today. She bid her sleeping siblings a silent goodbye as she walked out of the Warden’s quarters.
Outside, the trees were much larger compared to her view from the top of the tower. Tilly stood alone, a white spot amongst a sea of green, suddenly indecisive about where to head next. She glanced back for answers – almost expecting to see her father trailing behind her – but all she saw was the mansion, where she’d come from. I’d better head away before he finds me, she thought, taking an arbitrary beeline into the forest. She’d look for someone to show her something interesting.
The water rippled as his toes poked against it, his reflection becoming distorted and breaking away as he leaned back. He enjoyed the marsh for all that it was a rather miserable place. In the summer the bugs made it unbearable in his own opinion but now in the winter it was rather magical in it's own way. Parts frozen over that he slipped along before it cracked under him and he was left scrambling back towards the sure footed edges of the water. He wasn't truly in the marsh, just on the beginning edges of it thinking to himself.
He hated thinking to be honest, would rather be out sticking his head into fox dens to check if their abandoned and scrambling over twolegs fences to trash their abodes before running from bottles thrown or dogs loosed on his heels. But the hunter had decided he would allow himself at-least half a day to think. After all the decision to have kits seemed like a rather big one; though he was rather sure Reynardine would be doing all the hard work.
"What if they don't like me." He bemoaned under his breath, crouching to peer into his own blue eyed reflection once more.
Matilde had been walking for an unknowable amount of time, until suddenly she was passing through tall reeds, stiff with frost and swaying perilously in the lazy wind. The ground had begun to grow softer beneath her paws; she could feel it giving to her weight below the permafrost that caked the grass. She peered around, her eyes suddenly alert, realizing that she’d never been in this part of the forest before – not even when her parents chaperoned her around.
The scent of water drew her to the shore, but she spotted Ronan far before she got there, peering out at the water. Apprehension suddenly prickled like ants beneath her pelt; a natural wisdom informed her that she should avoid strangers. Her nerve was falling away as she remembered her vulnerability, backing away; but then she froze as she heard his fretful mew.
“What if who doesn’t like you?” Tilly responded from a distance, curiosity winning the battle with caution. She’d caught the question on the wind – her oversized ears were indeed good for something. Her big saucer eyes blinked at him curiously.
Head jerking up he turned teeth bared before his eyes landed on nothing but a kit, well perhaps kit was the wrong term. The youngling was obviously on the older side of things, not freshly born. Though perhaps he was wrong, he truly knew absolutely nothing about these matters and that realization had his lips lowering and dread sneaking towards him once more.
Ronan gave it little thought in his reply, "my future kits, that's who!" At no point did he stop to consider if the little thing should even be out here unsupervised, he just assumed if she was already out surely there was no stopping her. Instead what struck him was that she must be an expert in this topic. "You're a kit! You must have a father! Do you like him?"
As he asked his questions he stepped closer her, practically vibrating with eagerness to know. Not realizing that he had taken the opposite approach to this encounter must cats would.
Matilde's fur fluffed in alarm, completely caught off guard. She took a step backward, fear clear on her face, but it wasn’t enough to draw distance between her and this stranger. She hardly heard the words pouring out of his mouth – they were loud, and he was too close, and she suddenly realized how small she was… but then, almost instinctually, as a last resort against this crazed lunatic, she grasped for her favorite weapon, the only one she knew how to wield: she drew up as tall as she could, made her face as petulant as she could, and shouted, “Daddy is the Warden!”
The silence that followed emboldened her; her face grew more cross as she looked up at Ronan, her hands metaphorically on her hips. “Daddy is the Warden, so you better not try anything crazy, mister.”
He blinked at her and tilted his head, "alright your father is the warden. But do you like him?" Ronan wondered if she hadn't heard him the first time as she did seem a little frazzled. Maybe she had thought she was in trouble and he was going to take her back to camp or something. He barley registered her warning not to do anything crazy; young cats were odd like that, saying weird things off the cuff for seemingly no reason. Hopefully he could teach his own manners, though it was much more likely that Reynardine would handle that, she had a much better head on her shoulders.
"You see I'm going to have kits soon and I wanna be a good dad." He added earnestly hoping that would help give her context to be more helpful in her answer. "So I figure any help would be good, and who better to help than a kit with a dad."
By now Matilde was realizing Ronan wasn’t a threat after all; she blinked up at him, actually hearing his question this time. And what a silly question it was. “Of course, I love my father.” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, tilting her head to emphasize her naïve confusion. “Doesn’t everyone love their Daddy?”
When he added context about being an expecting father, her face went from curious to dubious. “You want me to help you be a dad? I don’t know… I’m just a kit myself, I don’t think I’m the most qualified. Maybe Daddy can help you be Dad.” She paused and looked the tom up and down – he reminded her of a kit himself with how anxious he was. What poor kits would have him as a daddy? Matilde frowned, taking pity at the thought – maybe he did need all the help he could get. “Or… do you want me to pretend you’re my Daddy and I can tell you if I like you or not?”
"I don't need you to pretend to be my kit, that's odd." He countered quickly shaking his head vigorously. "No, no I just want to know what you like about your father." He shuddered at the thought of walking up to Bermondsey and asking for parenting advice. Ronan tried to consider how to best explain it to her and perked when a light bulb went off.
"For example does he let you stay up late? Does he remember your favorite things?" The hunter questioned, almost bouncing as he realized these were the sort of questions he needed to be asking. "What does he do that make you love him?" Suddenly he considered asking after her mother as well, because perhaps she loved her father because her mother couldn't compare. But then he decided that could be a risky path to take.
He would just always have to be content with being less than Reynardine, but kits probably always loved their mothers more in the beginning; probably.
