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!
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Adderstar walked through the low brush of a foreign world. A half moon ago, she had never dreamed she would be living in a group of cats quite this large, not for more than the few days it would take to rest and recover. Everything here was strange and different from the home she knew: warriors that welcomed her but did not trust her, territory of tangled vine and weeping willow, a code enforced by the stars, and a group with paws rooted to the ground, marking borders instead of exploring the world. She had planned to move on, had already begun to map out their next route. In the meantime, she hunted side by side with the cats of the clan, got a feel for their vibrant lives, and watched her little sister settle in and make friends for the first time.
Then Heavystar was gone, leaving a vacancy for any warrior to fill; quite by accident, she had tumbled into the position instead.
She ducked beneath a fallen tree branch, the bark surface slick from the condensation heavy in the air. This close to the train station, she thought the ground would purr beneath her paws, and she looked expectantly to the leaves - but they did not tremble, except gently in the wind. She frowned and moved closer to examine the station and discovered it was empty, at least for today: not a twoleg or train in sight. Still, where there were once twolegs, there were rats.
Adderstar cast a cautious glance around, then slipped toward the train station and paced above the tracks, peering down for a glimpse of prey.
"Things must be dire," a flat, deadpan voice mused lowly from above, "if cats are on the hunt for rats." The voice shifted; she was loping along the top of the platform. "Horrible meals, rats. Always something oily about them." Of course, she was biased; one of her last months at sea, when she was already growing disillusioned and festering in the violent dullness, the ship she was on had passed by an oil spill — all black sludge across the top of the ocean in a stinking film. The gulls, the fish, the ship rats — they hadn't even wailed; they'd just wasted away in a state of silent, heavy suffering. The suffering of a child who knew how the story ended. Those rats had tasted black and miserable, and it had been such a dreary shame to end a life just to take two bites and curl her lip and leave the rest. It had been a depressing affair, but then most things at sea were. They dreamed about it from the shore, but all she'd dreamed about, in those final, empty moons, had been leaving it.
Brin dropped down from the platform to plod along the gravel between the tracks; it clacked and crunched under her paws. She didn't seem to have any regard for frightening away the other she-cat's potential prey; she could find others. "Or are you just a dismal hunter?"
She didn't often stop to talk on her journeys — she saw cats; she watched them through the leaves to see what direction they were heading in and then turned the other way — but she had been away from SummerClan for two days now, and the captain once so jaded to going months in silence had growlingly admitted to herself that she rather missed the idle chatter. She'd already been softened — corrupted — by life in SummerClan; even though she was most often only listening to others' conversations on the outskirts, she'd grown used to that companionship, that noise, that speaking. She'd sent herself off on a treasure-hunting expedition — no permission from Foxstar beyond a gruff I'll be off for a few days, don't look for me, and don't die before she stalked out of camp — and this, miraculously, was the first cat she'd seen since. The feeling of relief was unfamiliar. She'd gone because she needed the privacy, and yet now, out here alone, all she yearned for, treacherously and irritatingly, was the others back in the meadows. She was trying to train herself out of it. She'd already decided to cut her expedition short and return — that was enough to make her furious, and she'd likely be in a terrible mood for days after she arrived back, rudely brushing off the very chatter she had returned for and stalking past them; in the meantime, she would force herself to enjoy a day or two more on the road, living like a highwaywoman.
The air above the tracks was stale and crisply metallic on her tongue, heavy with moons upon moons of dirt and grime and polish heaped upon the muted steel tracks; her senses bogged down by the traces of history on her tongue, Adderstar was not prepared for the voice that sounded above her head. Still, she did not jump, and did not betray a hint of fear: if this cat wished her immediate harm she would be on the receiving end of an ambush, not a mild conversation. Her gaze picked up to locate the cat above her.
"Nonsense," she insisted. "You must be feasting on the wrong rats. I've eaten rats half my size, with bodies as thick as my head. Plump and wriggly and hard to pin down if you're slow, but if you get the upper hand, their meat is tender and rich. I'd take a good rat over a mouse any day, but if you disagree, I won't yuck your yum!" Adderstar paused; her voice was high and fraught with excitement, more akin to a mother telling stories to her kits than two adults meeting for the first time. Her smile, too, was soft and inviting. Too many days in sequence surrounded by young cats had rendered her toothless.
The pale calico shook her head and laughed. "Perhaps I am a dismal hunter after all. Help me corner one of these rats and we'll see if I can't change your tastes after all." Adderstar was a traveler herself; a loner did not get far in this world without a few tricks. Cats with full bellies were more reasonable. It was hard to wish harm on someone after you shared a meal, especially once languor slowed their limbs. She was only interested in peace, and content cats were pliable.
She turned her back and gazed down the tracks, endless steel bars repeating into the distance. The rats would not stray too far from this shelter, long as it remained still and silent, and she was satisfied the ground did not rumble with an arriving train. Adderstar turned and leaped cleanly to the other side, then paced back the direction they had come from, her steps brisk with purpose. "Let's each take a direction and see if we can't flush some out."
