The future's in your paws. Shape it well.Roleplay in a cat Clan of warriors. Based off the Warriors series by Erin Hunter. Takes place in an AU before the cats in the books existed.
Welcome to WCC! Here are our latest announcements:
Activity checks take place on the 1st of the month. PM a staff member with the completed form if you missed it.
Newleaf is finally here, and the Clans hope to find reprieve from the tough Leaf-bare.
Gatherings take place on the 1st of the month; keep your eyes out for a staff member's post!
Please feel free to hit up any staff member if you have any questions!
Their return to camp was still fresh, wet behind the ears, and she was already out where the elder's den would be, lugging branches of various sizes and long bundles of grass behind her, straining as she pulled them toward the spot the clan had designated as prime land for the elders. It'd taken nearly the whole morning to drag the fallen branches out and new branches in and she laid down to catch her breath once she did, head turned to the side as she just panted. If she could, she'd probably be sweating up a storm right now. Icky. She took a break to take a sip of water from one of the cleaner pools that had gathered around since the Great Shake and then took a good look at the new branches she had gathered. Yes. These would do just fine.
Once hydrated and not dying from exertion, she got up and began to dig, using her small paws with their long golden claws to rip at the wet, growing sedge grass and into the soil beneath, flinging it behind her onto a pile, not really paying attention to where it was being thrown as she worked. The elders wanted a better looking den and she was going to make one. Once the hole was adequate size, she grabbed one of the larger branches with lots of good sticks coming off it, gently setting it into the hole she'd made before she'd turn around and partially rebury the stick. She then turned back and looked proudly at the beginning of rebuilding one of the walls. The sticks were leaning up against the bones of the old den, and the bushes had come apart and were hardly giving the elders coverage from the rain, which was precisely why she was fixing it. This continued for a bit, the sun well into the air by the time anyone would find her, a few sticks 'planted' already and her head buried in the process of another hole, flinging more dirt behind her. Her pale fur was streaked with dirt and she smelled of the grass and soil, clay and mud up to her elbows and thickly clumped in her nails. But she continued, not looking up as she softly hummed to herself. This was nice. She liked fixing things, liked kind of tedious, monotonous things that required her to do, like, actual work. Made her feel nice and productive. Even if she had to get her paws dirty.
