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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" as one reminds the other of past a life lived much too fast to hold onto how am i loosing you? "
bauble
Hunting had never been something the skniny tom had been good at. In fact, his lacking in warrior skills is what drove Vulturemalice to turn his paws onto the path as a medicine cat, a skill he mastered and flourished at. He knew every herb, healing or otherwise, that grew in the woods. Knew how to use them, cultive them, make them into salves and sometimes poisons. Herbs is who he was, until he wasn't.
As it was every waking day, he felt the sting of claws across his throat. Felt the warmth of the blood running down his chest, hearing the slight patter of it dripping onto the sand below. But above all, he felt the pain of failing his Clan. SummerClan had been left without a leader or deputy and had left him in charge and he had failed. That's what ultimeny caused him to leave the Clan in the night, shamed and unworthy to have been the SummerClan medicine cat. For moons he had lived on his own, healing his throat and hunting for himself, while not very well on the latter part.
Yet one morning he had found himself on the boarder of NightClan: the Clan that had ruined his. Yet all the rage he at felt was gone, turned in to shame and turning him into the shell of the cat he once was. No longer a medicine cat, just a scrawny tom with no where else to go. What a better punishment for failing his Clan then to serve the one that had ruined his life?
Which is how Vulturemalice had found himself out in the darkness of NIghtClan territory attempting to hunt, only to be drawn by the scent of watermint from a nearby stream. With a curl of his lip, the brown splotched tom tried to turn back to him hunt only to be once more drawn by the sharp scent of the herb. Knowing that Twilightdance had been a warrior before medicine cat, he knew she would appreciate adding this to her store. Padding over to the mint, he screwed his face up and picked off as many leaves as he could carry, blocking out the memories of collecting this same herb on his own territory with Doefreckle.
The pain that lance his heart was more than he could bear. With a snarl, he chased away the memories and raced back to camp, his long skinny tail streaming after him. Upon reaching camp, he made his way directly to Twilightdance's den and spat the herbs out at the entrance. "Figured you could use these," he rasped out, voice gnarly due to the scar that ran across his throat.
The nights were long and busy, busier still now that she no longer had an apprentice to assist her. Twilightdance barely had time to sleep these days — even now her body beckoned her to her nest, but her mind wouldn’t allow it. The rising sun brought with it some much needed quiet, but it was difficult to keep the worry silenced in her head. The morning had ponderous peace — a beam of soft morning sunlight peaked through the hole in her ceiling, the room was enveloped by a pleasant summer balm, but it all seemed so far removed from the ruckus that would visit her den come nightfall. No, should could not sleep, not when her paws were the only ones on deck, and she was practically still training on the job.
The ebony she-cat was so lost in her train of thought, busying herself with preparing new wraps, that she didn’t notice Vulturemalice entering. When he spoke in his scarred voice, she raised her head in surprise. “Oh, Vulturemalice,” she smiled, welcomingly, her smile becoming grateful when she noted the herbs he’d brought her. “How kind of you, you’ve saved me such trouble.” It wasn’t just her usual pleasantries; gathering herbs proved to be the most time consuming of her daily tasks — without Lilacpaw to run the errand, her stores had been running low. Perhaps Vulturemalice knew that — she stole a curious glance at the former Medicine Cat while she was putting the watermint away. It was hard not to make a note of his arrival a few nights past — she’d been a part of the Nightclan occupation of Summerclan, and she’d remembered his face when he stood up to Aspenstar, and how he’d received his scar as a reward. Those events filled her with shame now… of course, she’d just been a warrior then, and quite useless given her unwillingness to fight, but she couldn’t help but feel some of those feelings of shame resurface when she looked at this tom. She gave him another smile as she returned from her stores. “How are you adjusting to Nightclan?” She mewed kindly, trying to make conversation.
