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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He really hadn't meant to stray so far outside of Regime territory. Usually, Cadet Atticus never drifted far from the tunnels at all; his mother and older sister's constant worrying keeping him anchored underground. Most of the time he would simply humor them, not wanting his family to make a fuss over his well-being. But that didn't mean they didn't get on his nerve sometimes. He was nearly an adult, for Blind Protector's sake. His promotion was nearly a moon away, but they still seemed to treat him like a helpless tyke.
So when the Garden happened to need some restocking, the young snow-white tom wasted no time volunteering and heading out to explore as much as he could before his sister found out. By pure luck, it was a beautiful day for it. The sun shone brightly against a cloudless blue sky, wisps of soft green grass danced in the breeze as he strolled along, with pops of playful color as he passed by patches of wildflower, and strong pine trees that reached towards the heavens. Even with his flawed eyesight, the grey-spotted feline was content just getting to spend some precious alone-time up on the surface, following his nose towards areas where the scent of herbs was the strongest.
In fact, Atticus was having such a great time that he almost didn't realize he had reached the Summerclan border, quickly snapping out of his daydreaming to stop just short of trespassing over the scent line. He frowned, smelling a patch of thyme just a short distance into the territory. Thyme wasn't too common in Regime territory, so it would be nice to bring back...but trespassing probably wasn't a good idea.
Doestar was just beginning to come out of the fog of the death of his kits and reacquaint himself with life again; for the first time in what felt like moons, he could feel the sunshine on his fur, could hear the birdsong, could smell the wildflowers and the water from the streams. The world felt that little bit quieter, like all the sounds were muted and everything was just that little bit more sharp-focus and crisp and real, less like a colourful storybook and more like the existence everyone else knew - he'd grown up a lot in the past week, lost some more of his innocence and his immaturity and gained a little caution. This was what came from friendships with cats from other groups - death and loss and heartache.
Padding along the border, he stopped to watch the bees buzzing around the flowers and the small brown butterflies flitting around patches of rosemary and thyme, trying to ease himself back into the soft love he'd held for the world before. And then he caught an unfamiliar scent, the scent of the group he held a small, second-hand grudge against purely on Chim's behalf. Limping along the boundary more carefully, he spotted the young white tom staring into his territory. Doestar watched him for a long, quiet moment, his natural, friendly curiosity warring with the new part of him that was that little bit more cold and that little bit more untrusting. "If you're thinking of trespassing," he spoke up at last, voice still gentle and sweet despite his misgivings; the tom was young, no older than an apprentice, no harm even if he wanted to be, and he'd been left with a paternal sort of soft spot that he couldn't manage to shake since the deaths of his sons, "might be a good idea to make sure the leader isn't around first." He offered a small, tired smile.
Atticus managed to catch the scent of the approaching tom a fraction of a second before he spoke, leaving him startled, but not frightened, as he turned his head to see a tall brown, black, and white-furred figure coming towards him. Despite the older cat closing the distance between them, he was still too far off for the Cadet's poor eyesight to make out any specific details of his face or body. The way he moved was odd, though. As if the stranger was putting most of his weight on one side...an injury? Maybe, but it was still too soon to tell. His Scottish-fold ears lifted slightly at the tom's words. The leader?
After a moment of careful consideration, the Guider concluded that the Summerclan cat meant no harm; he couldn't be punished if he hadn't crossed the border yet, that would be against the Warrior Code. Instead, the young spotted tom relaxed, taking a seat right where he was standing. "So you're Doestar, then?" He asked tentatively, watching him with newfound curiosity. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on trespassing or anything. I was out collecting herbs, and happened to smell the wide variety that grows in your territory." Atticus gestured with his tail towards the small pile of burdock, catmint, and comfrey resting inside a large fern leaf bundle that he had set down beside him, before sniffing the air again. "The thyme was what caught my attention first, but your clan also has large patches of rosemary, lavender, marigold, and goldenrod as well."
Now that he was up closer, he felt a faint stab of grief at the realisation that the young tom was a Scottish fold, the same as his sons had been. Forcing the sentimental thoughts away, he sat down and offered a gentle smile. “You’re some sort of medicine cat, then?” Your clan also has large patches of rosemary, lavender, marigold, and goldenrod as well. Doestar let out a small, amused purr, his voice still a little scratchy with exhaustion. “Does it really?” he asked breathlessly, widening his eyes and feigning complete shock. “I would never have guessed that I had them growing on my very own territory that I live in and am also in charge of, thank you so much for coming here to tell me just that.” He grinned, eyes regaining a little of their old light. Truthfully, he was impressed by the Regime cat’s knowledge, had always had a soft spot for healers.
Shrugging one of his shoulders, he gestured with his head towards his side of the border. “Go on, then,” he relented after a moment; his bones felt like they were going to collapse in on themselves from sleep deprivation and he could feel how tired he must look, could hear it in the quietness of his words, but the fact that this young, Scottish fold cat had arrived when he did felt like a pitiful sort of comfort offered up in the place of his sons, and he didn’t want to leave it just yet. He knew he ought to be distrustful, knew he ought to have learned his lesson from Skye, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care that much. Doestar offered a small smile. “Quick pop across the border to grab some herbs and then off you trot; permission from the leader himself.”
