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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He never meant to find himself here, but the whispering of the wind on the long grass and smell of salt in the air brought back so many memories. Both good and bad, the feelings rushed over the tom and almost overwhelmed him, causing his legs to buckle and a breath catch in his throat. Home, his mind said, sending waves of pain rushing through the brown splattered tom. But the pain lancing across the scar that split his throat reminded him otherwise. He had failed his Clan and those he loved. He could still feel the warm red running down his chest and staining the white fur on his legs. Seeing the disappointment in the eyes of everyone around him, not being able to take up the mantle of Clan leader while they had been left leaderless. It's not something a medicine cat ever had to do, only in emergency. And he had failed them all.
Knowing that the scent of NightClan now clung to his pelt, finally taking over the strange scent of a rouge. He had ranged down the length of SpringClan and SummerClan to reach the beach, keeping a few tail lengths from the border. But it was a view he had watched many nights over; the sun sinking down on the horizon and leaving the sky in a flash of red. He sat on the sand with his tail wrapped around his paws, just drinking in the scents and sounds of where he once called home. There was something in Vulturemalice that wanted to come back, to redeem himself and live and die in the Clan that he loved, but there was a sourness in his soul now. Coming back would only draw out the pain and feelings he had with leaving. There would be one day that he would come to acknowledge those feelings and come to term with them, but today was not that day. Today he would take in what he could and be able to let go.
Turning to leave the shore, Vulturemalice stopped in his tracks, a familiar scent tickling across the glands on the roof of his mouth. It was a scent that brought back both love and pain, that made the brown splotched tom want to run for the hills but kept his claws dug into the ground underpaw. Sunpaw, he thought with a smirk, knowing she had a new name by now. He stayed on the shore, not totally in view but not making himself seen at the same time. He was outside of the border, so there wasn't much she could do either way.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and waited. Whatever was going to happen was what was going to happen.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Aug 22, 2022 16:25:22 GMT -5
She often had her own set of routines, but when the sunset drew near, she followed the sunlight as it drew its last rays like an isohel on a weather map. Green and golds, the sky flush with a pastel pink and soft frost despite the warmth of the summer days. Soon, things would no longer be the way it was; she could already taste the cooler winds begin to blow right in. She would be lying if she said she didn't appreciate the colder weather; despite being a Summerclan cat, her coat was meant for cooler weather surely.
Her steps were light as she continued towards the borders, seeking the last of the summer berries that would line the woodlands. It all seemed fine; she held two branches upon her teeth as she moved towards the next locat–
Suddenly, the wind shifted and a scent hit her. Her steps halted immediately, her eyes darting around. NightClan. She felt her hackles rise, her hazel eyes immediately wary about it all. Just a week ago, she had found her brother, half dead, bleeding from the throat, mumbling something about how NightClan had torn into him due to new management. The hairs on her haunches were standing up, as she tentatively approached; this was never a good sign, and she didn't have a patrol with her this time. It was a far journey for a NightClan cat to make...
She sniffed again, and her brow furrowed. There was a familiarity to the scent; it wasn't Sagebristle, she was certain, but she knew this cat. The golden she-cat continued forward, steps silent as if she was hunting, as if she was ready to flee, when she noticed the familiar brown splashes, the thin face of a cat she thought she'd never see again.
"Vulturemalice?" she gasped, eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost, and perhaps this was a ghost. Perhaps StarClan sent someone to give her a message...except he reeked of NightClan. Nothing made sense to her. "What–? You're alive–?"
