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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woof don’t ask me how it got this long, i yabba dabba doo all day all night. no need to match length by any means <3
This was his first proper solo outing since his mother had stolen the first of his lives after his ceremony — if it could even be called a ceremony; perhaps ritual was the better word. There had been nothing sacred, nothing gentle, nothing noble about what had gone on in that black void.
But he’d done his worrying. For a week following, he’d been a nervous, isolated wreck, hardly eating and afraid to leave his den. The wide-eyed, shivering feelings had piled onto the pit he’d already hollowed out for himself by murdering his father, the world around him turning to monsters and shadows with curling hands. Now, he couldn’t afford to dwell on it forever, couldn’t afford to lounge about and feel sorry for himself. So, as he always did, he pushed everything down until even he couldn’t find it and plastered on a smile. His mate was expecting kits; he still had four more lives than he’d started with; he was leader; his mother had ultimately failed. And the world was still in his favour. Everything was bright and hopeful. Everything was on his side. He had a rebellious Clan that wanted his throat sliced open, but that was nothing that starvation and routine executions couldn’t fix. He had a deputy who openly disdained him, but their blood oath held her at bay. Everything could be solved and staved off with enough violence, enough terror, enough intricate cruelty. He was optimistic and hopeful, even if it tasted like lies and ash and blissful ignorance, blissful blindness, in his mouth. NightClan’s eyes followed him and he just turned his head away and kept on smiling.
Anyway, where were we? His first solo outing. Now, Kier wandered tamely along the SummerClan border; the moon was high and full, washing silver-blue over the meadows, and his tail twitched idly back and forth as he padded along. For the first time in a long time, he felt calm. The easy peace in his chest was real. Even his heart was slow. There was only the sound of each pawstep quietly stifling the grass beneath, only the breath of the breeze. Hardly a cricket stirred. Ever since his own Clan’s occupation of SummerClan before he’d made himself at home there, he’d had a faint interest in them — not curiosity, not fixation, but the sort of interest that showed itself in intermittently checking in on something. When you had the time, or when they crossed your mind. The sort of thing you’d idly stroll towards when your mind wandered and you let your steps guide you. He’d watched, once or twice, during their subjugation, gazing unblinkingly from the shadows at bowed heads and barked orders and glittering discontent, insurrection, violence glittering in lowered eyes. It had all been a little farcical, a tragicomedy of how not to be a tyrant — beginning, middle, end. He hadn’t had any stakes in either side, hadn’t placed bets; it had all just unfolded before him, and he’d passed by when he had the vague itch to, or the free time, like one might check in on an old favourite show.
But tonight, all was quiet. All was dark. All the lights of SummerClan were turned off, and the Clan slept. His own Clan was confined to their cavern, growing hungrier and hungrier, gaunter and gaunter; he had no need to rush back. They weren’t going anywhere. Continuing his wandering along the border with the vague idea to do a loop of the territory and then meander home to Eris, he soon came to the Southern Sea. Slowing his pace, he stopped at the edge of one of the cliffs and gazed idly out at the dark, night-time sea. He had no real interest in it, in the things that lay beyond, but he was never averse to thoughts of magic, of the unknown, of creatures in black water. His tail tip continued to twitch behind him. After a little while, he turned back along the path and padded on, parallel to the moon-silver sea.
But as he padded on, his ears pricked and, slowly, he stopped. In the silence of the night, Kier looked down. The ground was trembling ever so slightly beneath his paws. Suddenly, with the sound of snapping grass roots, it gave a great, vicious lurch; Kier was lurched into a half-crouch, staying where he was as he tried to work out what was happening. Then, as grit skittered across the lopsided ground in front of him and rained down to the sandy beach below, he understood; a section of the clifftop was breaking free. Before he had time to do anything about this realisation, a greater section crumbled away and he lost his footing; crashing onto his side, he slid down the slanting cliff-face towards the perilous drop — and, just as he almost snagged his claws into the ground and found a grip, the cliff-top lurched so far into the air that it blocked out half the sky, almost vertical. It crumbled away around him and he slipped with it — then, just as he caught himself by the tips of his claws on a plant root protruding from the sheer rock, another cat appeared over the jutting horizon of stone and came sliding and crashing down the same section of cliff, caught in the collapse the same as he. With conscious thought given to whether he should just let her fall or not, Kier finally, after a split second’s callous internal debate, reached out a paw and, immediately resenting the decision and thinking he shouldn’t have played the hero, caught her, his claws ripping painfully through her thick fur and the weight of her almost wrenching his foreleg from its socket. His grunt turned to a growl at his own disgusting heroics; he should have let her spine shatter on the stones below. It was just enough of a stay in momentum that she would be able to haul herself against the rock and cling to it. But even that was a brief respite — as he crouched there vertically upon the cliff beside the stranger, the cliff crumbled further, his ears filled with the roar and crackle of splitting rock.
“Well, this isn’t ideal,” Kier spat to the other cat. His claws dug into the brittle cliff rock, stinging from the strain of keeping himself up. Before he became leader, ironically, he would have laughed and let go just to see what happened when he landed; now, with five lives to spare, he was hanging on for dear life. He risked a look up at the cliff-top above, then, taking great care not to lose his hold and brushing his muzzle against the dusty rock so his black fur came away a powdery white, turned his head to glare at her, like she had personally made this happen. His forehead and the bridge of his nose were pressed to the cliff, head bowed as he held on and teeth gritted in a silent, hateful growl. When he was afraid, it was always someone else’s fault — and she was the closest target. “Any bright ideas, bunny?” She really was extraordinarily fluffy and soft-looking.
"Oh, sor-ree," the would-be corpse snapped, "my intentions of dying tonight got in the way of your romantic walk alone. Don't worry- I do my very best problem solving when I'm hanging ten thousand mouse-lengths in the air." Maybe the acidity was unwarranted, but as quick as Kier was to assume the blameless position, Sunstar was equally quick to match pace, spite for spite, glare for glare, as she held on for dear life to what felt more like an animated bag of bones than a cat she was supposedly trusting to keep her from plummeting to her deaths. And, despite her initial claim, dying tonight had certainly not been a box she needed to check off her to-dos, yet somehow she was closer now to it than the entire last moon when it was exactly what she'd thought she wanted.
With more force than necessary, she swung one of her legs over to catch the cliffside- and missed, her claws scoring painfully against it before the appendage fell back and scattered more of the stones into the sea. Rocking perilously, and feeling her heart stuttering wildly in her chest, it wasn't until some semblance of steadiness settled in that she made another attempt; this time, when her claws connected with the rock, striking so hard she'd later swear sparks leapt from between, they stayed there, clasped tightly in the cracks of the cliffside. She slowly repositioned until Kier no longer supported her. Now, all nine lives safeguarded by her own capabilities, she could relax- as much as one who was hung out over stone jaws calling for their death could relax. Her fluffy tail hung below, a fire struck in the pale night sky.
Unknown to each other, the new SummerClan and NightClan leaders crouched, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the sky, their breaths all that could wisp in between them, as they trusted the other not to make any moves that would compromise this delicate, inescapable truce.
Any bright ideas, bunny? Just wait till they get down. She was going to eviscerate this glorified stick-bug. Until then, a sense of self preservation the only thing clamping down on her furious instinct to inform him of just who he was speaking to, she kept her eyes fixated straight ahead, staring hard at the cliff. What Kier couldn't see was the map sprawled out on its surface. In the fissures and breaks, she imagined rivers and lakes, and the dirt and dust canopied the stone the same as the tree tops fanned out across one another, all varying shapes and sizes and colors. Looking longer, she could see the very cliff to which they held onto, could imagine every action they could take and see the result, and could process all the resources they just didn't have. Everything had fallen into the sea. All they had left were the cracks and the weeds growing from in them.
Finally, she looked over at Kier. He was staring at her, the white dust creased in his brow. "You're going to have to trust me." The paw closest to him broke free of its perch and extended toward him and waited, expectant. Hopeful. Dreading.
“Trust you?” Kier snapped, and though he wouldn’t admit it, it was clear that he was panicking; all sense was going out the window, and he was beginning to scrabble and reposition his paws stupidly and lose his precarious grip on the rock, like climbers taking off the only clothes keeping them alive atop Everest. And because he was vaguely aware that he was panicking while this strange she-cat was remaining so calm, he only became angrier. Desperate and afraid and hateful. “I don’t even know you! Why the hell would I trust some skirt—“
As soon as he said it, he lost his claw-hold. Immediately, he snapped out a paw and caught it on Sunstar’s, his claws digging into the soft flesh of the back of her paw without any care; she was a lifeline, and he’d drown her so he could live. His claws had left long scrapes down the cliff, and now he was dangling with almost his full weight hooked into Sunstar’s sinew, his hind legs scrabbling at the stone uselessly and, finally, simply hanging limply, given up and placing the burden of saving them both on her as only a misogynist with mommy issues could. She would save them; women had unseen, maternal skills. He didn’t give a single thought to her pain; he just risked a breathless glance down at the drop beneath him. His right pupil dilated fully to match his left one, quiet pants slipping out of his slightly open mouth. He didn’t try to say anything witty or commanding; for once he shut up, because he knew his voice would come out high and cracked, and because he knew his life hinged on the fragile scrap of flesh he had his claws curled into. Dust and small stones skittered down the cliff and rained down over him towards the beach far below, and he sucked in a quivering breath, heart pounding, biting down on the wail he really wanted to let out.
Finally, head covered in white grit, Kier dragged his eyes away from the awaiting death and looked back up at the she-cat holding him up. Blood was welling around his ruthless, selfish clawtips. He wanted to say something, but all that came out instead, in his adrenalised, electrified state and almost against his will, was a delirious laugh. A huge, bright grin spread across his face, black, fully dilated eyes locked with Sunstar’s — it said what now? and pleasure knowing you. He’d already given up thinking they would get out of this — he was preparing to fall. He’d wanted to do it in the WinterClan mountains; now he might get the chance to see what it was like. Oh well! What an adventure.
Sunstar wanted to bite his head off. Her teeth grit tight, lines of agitation and pure, unbridled hatred formed around her mouth, but before she could hiss anything out, his paw caught into hers. She winced at it, the instinct to pull back and break free, causing her to jerk, loosening the grip ever so slightly, but she fought against it with every in herself. Her own claws embedded themselves into Kier's black fur.
"Well," she said lazily, "here's to hoping, I guess?"
Vote of confidence etching horror into Kier's face, Sunstar moved with surprising speed and a new, dangerous, doomed certainty. Her grip on Kier tightened, her other paw dug into the cliff lurched, and she yanked the lower half of her body up until her hindpaws found purchase. As soon as they did, they sprang; she went sideways, pouncing toward him, and ripped them from their lifeline just as an impossible, deafening roar sounded. Without the weight of the two cats, inconsequential as they may have felt, the cliff now came apart and fell.
And so did they.
To herself, Sunstar thought of how pretty the shore was as she barreled towards it, nothing but white oblivion waiting for her. It really was a sight to behold. But, thanks to her earlier momentum, it rapidly turned black. Her leap of faith worked. Instead of certain death, perfect-for-body-smashing-sand awaiting them, there was now mostly assured death, the dark pit of the ocean looming close.
It always come back to the Southern Sea.
It shattered like glass, a thousand-million deadly shards exploding out as, one after the other, Sunstar and Kier broke through it. The water was ruthless and wild, tumbling in and over itself, until it finally settled back, every fragment put back in place. It mirrored the sky- black and glittering white.
When her body hit the water, Sunstar felt like it ripped her open. She was a bodybag, and when she unzipped, everything that made her would spill out; the sea would teem with laughter and dandelions and young stardust. It was the worst pain she'd ever felt in her life- worse than war, worse than wounds, worse than Kier's needlepoint claws in her foot- and, for a moment, she wondered if every death was going to be this painful? Would she feel this nine times? Or would this be it?
Her head broke the surface before she was cognitively aware of it, Sunstar floating dazed and confused as the crisp winter air wound through her senses. She was only vaguely aware of her feet moving underneath, of the sound of the rocks still sloshing into the sea, of the smell of dust cloying her sinuses, until, with a start, she inhaled a sudden, panicked breath. She could breathe. She could breathe! She laughed and turned to Kier- wait, where was Kier?
Kier appeared a few seconds after Sunstar, his head erupting from the black sea. He gasped in rapid, heaving breaths, spitting out salty water as he tread against the waves, panicked at first until he slowly found his rhythm. “You idiot!” he burst out, breathless and vicious and frightened, too stunned to actually see Sunstar; he just stared wide-eyed at the glassy ocean tossing them to and fro. Then, suddenly, he began to laugh. “You brilliant, wonderful idiot!” Kier turned his head and beamed at the she-cat. Letting out a long, disbelieving sound, he tipped backwards and floated on the surface of the water, grinning open-mouthed up at the stars, unable to believe he was still alive — breathless and dizzy and drunk on the knowledge, the impossible feeling of it. His fur was slick against him, the black shining wet in the moonlight. He was shivering, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from cold or from pure adrenaline, pure, intoxicated excitement. He could have frozen there in the ocean and he would have grinned through it, too alive to feel it. For a long moment, the two leaders of enemy Clans just floated there in the current of pitch-black sea, laughing at the cold, white stars.
Conveniently, the water washed away the last of his NightClan scent. Sunstar’s blood, too, wisped away from his claws and disappeared into the endless blackness.
Eventually, silence settled over them, nothing but the lap of the waves filling the icy air between them. Kier was still grinning up at the night sky, letting the current rock him back and forth. His heart rate slowed, but the fizz, the comforting fullness of being alive, didn’t leave his chest. “Well,” he said at last, and the grin was in his voice, so easily, happily violent. “What now, bunny?”
Sunstar's thick waves swirled around her, as if she were spilled into the sea, as her blood fizzled and crackled, reveling in her success and their survival. Normally, in the presence of a stranger, she was wary, loftily superior and bitingly severe; but elation cleansed her of her apprehension, and she found herself grinning back at Kier while he grinned at her. Nothing like a near-death experience to bond over.
What now, bunny? "Now we live," she replied. She treaded the waves with a natural grace, short legs pushing through the surf, and soon found purchase in a sandbar not far from the Southern Shore, stretching herself out along it. With the water heavy in her fur, she was half her normal size and looked absolutely ridiculous and not very soft-looking anymore, but she was far too jubilant to mind her appearance for the time being. She just lay there and breathed, breathed like she'd never taken such glorious, life-sustaining breaths in her entire life. After a while of just the chorus of waves beating the shore, she looked over at Kier and, for the first time, realized he was a stranger. A trespasser. Despite knowing this, she couldn't find any venom for him, instead asking with a lazy casualty, "So, to who do I owe the honor of almost dying with?"
Kier hesitated for a moment, mulling things over. Somehow, his incomparable mind-map of names and allegiances and relations had lapsed of late; NightClan had taken up all his time, and his usual knowledge of everything and everyone, from a kit born in FallClan to a death in the Regime, had fallen by the wayside. He didn’t know who this she-cat was, but it was same to assume that, given she was SummerClan, she’d be unreasonably hostile to the NightClan leader. He’d seen her face, far-off, during the subjugation, but if he’d ever known her as Sunpetal, he’d forgotten. He considered, briefly, at least using his full name, Kiernan, but ultimately decided against it; he hated that name, had no loyalty to it. Anyway, it was always best to lie as close to the truth as possible; his thrill at creating elaborate stories and identities for himself, just to see how far he could push it, had subsided as he’d grown older and been crushed beneath the sleepless, frantic weight of NightClan’s disillusionment with him. All he was doing lately was holding up the crumbling walls of his own tyranny. So, he chose a lie of omission. “Kier,” he replied, looking over from where he’d been gazing calmly up at the night sky as he thought.
As she lay stretched out on the sandbar, Kier sat beside her, not close enough to touch. He hadn’t shaken himself off; such behaviour was undignified, hardly befitting new company. But already his short, thin fur had begun to dry; he twitched droplets from his whiskers, and was otherwise still. The stars reflected in his blown pupil as he blinked up at them. “And you? No, wait — I’ll hazard a guess. Something sickeningly obvious, ‘soft’ or ‘silk’ or ‘sun.’ Clan parents have a way of looking at a newborn kit and thinking,” he raised one paw and gestured with it in mocking excitement, affecting a feminine demeanour, “oh! Yes! Perfect! This has never been done before!” He put his paw down, returning to normal, eyes thinning once more. But despite his dryness, his voice was perfectly calm; he wasn’t being cruel, just indifferently, apathetically, foul-tempered. He didn’t know her; there was no reason to be charming, servile, toadying. He could just be the Kier he was when there wasn’t a grin or florid, grandiloquent monologue in sight.
Kier. If she'd ever heard the name, it had been too inconsequential to stick. She could name every cat in the Mountain Ranges, every leader and their offspring (especially since her wedding, having been surprised to find her betrothed to be the one tom she loathed above all), and had a growing encyclopedic list of cats residing in the other territories, but unless they came from legacies or legends, they escaped her for now. The lowly Kier, born in the faraway moors ravaged by ceaseless winds, with a feeble grasp on an almost eradicated lineage, hadn't made the cut.
She afforded him a laugh that was torn between being amused and being offended- not because he mocked the clans' creativity (or lack thereof) when it came to names, but because he named her while he did so. "As loathe as I am to admit it," she allowed, grit out between her back teeth, "you're right on the money." She extended her paw towards him and held it there, in a manner that almost indicated she wished for him to take it within his own, maybe plant a little kissy on the salt-heavy fur of her toes, before she reached to the side to cuff one of his whiskers, the last droplets that hung there flying off in every direction. "Pleasure. Sunstar."
Kier began to raise his paw to rest it beneath Sunstar's proffered one, happy — and, in fact, very pleased, surprisedly delighted by such a show of good breeding in a world of no manners — to oblige, when she suddenly changed course and instead flicked his whiskers. He snapped upright from where he'd bowed to kiss her paw, a grin immediately spreading across his face; there was no time to be startled — he was just thrilled. "Well," he replied, paw lowering back to the sand bank, the grin still on his face as he held her gaze; and for once he truly did hold it, his eyes never flicking down to look her up and down. He would reduce any other she-cat to something to be gawked at and silently appraised, silently deemed to past muster or fail it — but not a fellow leader. Not a queen. "So, we have a leader among us. Very prestigious." It sounded faintly goading. Satirising. If he hadn't been a leader as well, there would have been some flattery; now, with his own position veiled, it was like he was in on some joke she wasn't.
"Well, Sunstar," he continued, looking out across the waves to the beach and the cliffs upon them. "Not that I'm not grateful to you for risking one of those very nice lives, what, precisely, are we supposed to do out here? Or does all that fur muffle your brain?" Despite the insolent jab, there was nothing cruel in his voice; he sounded perfectly pleasant. Perfectly unhurried. Kier looked back at her. "Do we swim? Do we wait for the tide to recede?" He leaned in slightly, brows raised languidly and voice lowering. "Shall I keep giving suggestions or will the leader of SummerClan think for herself?" He was going to be of no help; this was the one time he could sit back and let someone else do all the thinking. Well, thinking was generous — he already had ten solutions. He just wanted to let Sunstar do it. Wanted to be difficult. Oh, he was in a wonderful mood.
Settling down on his back on the wet sand, he splashed the tip of his tail idly in the water, disturbing the stars' reflection. "Shouldn't be too long if we wait for the tide. What's eight or so hours among such good friends."
