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.
honey colored eyes swept over the camp as Moosestar emerged from his den. Though he held himself up with confidence, that was the last thing he felt. In reality the young tom had absolutely no clue as to what he was doing. He hadn't been deputy more than a heartbeat before being named leader by the will of a bunch of starry-furred cats he wasn't sure he even believed in. Yet here he stood among a bunch of warriors looking to him to lead them, more or less following blind in the good faith of their ancestors.
The idea of that alone made Moose feel as though these cats wouldn't realize whether or not they had made the biggest mistake of their lives. Suppressing the rising panic that he felt bubbling up in his chest he made his way over to the fresh-kill pile to pick tentatively through the few the limited choices in front of him before settling on the smallest vole he could find. He hardly hard the stomach to eat at the moment but, eating looking better than just staring at his clan-mates like an owl.
Anyone could probably tell just by looking at her that the fragile she-cat was unwell. Even though she tried to put on a good face, she exhaustion hung to her frame like a blanket, settling in her eyes in a way that was almost obtrusive. She always remained painfully thin, her bones a jungle gym of bones. On a normal day, each of her ribs could be counted, a staircase to a heaven the young cat would reach far too quickly. She was a creature who had a good strong face, though. If you could get past the fact that she looked so close to the end, too close to the end for only being seven moons old, she had a brave face. She walked with her shoulders back and her chin up. She did the tasks she was asked to, despite the fact that she could never train as long or as hard as the others. Monarchpaw did her best, and there was something respectable about it.
Speaking of her best, this morning it had bee the tiny vole the leader grabbed. Normally, she would have taken such a small piece of prey for herself, but she had worked so hard to make her only catch that day. Since placing it down, she had watched every cat who looked to the pile pass it up. It was probably barely enough to feed a kitten. This had disheartened her, but that changed when she saw Moosestar grab it. A smile came to her small face as she watched him take her prey, observing him much like the owl he hadn't wanted to be.
