The devotee and the philosopher (MistxBright)

[Cloud of Diamonds]

A pinkish-orange nose sniffed at the air laden with moisture. Waking up unusually early, the calico medicine cat had felt an urge to go out into her fog-laden territory. The deeply humid air was somewhat hard to breathe, but also refreshing, in a way. Why, thought the FogClanner, does the source of our Clan's name form anyway? Is it because the trees here collect water particularly well, or for some other reason? Brightnose imagined rain falling from the sky, to be trapped in trees, and escape somehow as fog. She nodded. That made sense, she thought. If plants can hold dew, surely they could hold fog somehow. Her black-and-white haunches shifted slightly on the damp soil that was covered in dead leaves. She shivered. Her pelt was only partially grown back from greenleaf. Pale greenish brown eyes strained to pick out herbs. Though the medicine cat wasn't strictly on a supply hunt, it would make sense to take advantage of the fact that she'd woken early. She got up, dark tail twitching, and padded towards a clump of holly, then paused. Was that another cat she smelled? Somewhat familiar.....Mistpelt! Yes, it was the deputy who she smelled, though where she was Brightnose was uncertain.

[Spec]

Cold winds whipped her fur into ruffled sheets while she hunted. It hadn't been as successful as she liked, but she padded into camp with a small thrush and two voles clamped tightly in her salivating maw. Every spec of evidence pointed to a long and extended hunting, perhaps spending a bit too much time out in the forest, where the temperature was most unforgiving. Thanks to the grace of Starclan, though, she had not been presently hindered by the seemingly ceaseless runs she had to endure to wait for the most pristine amount of prey. The cold, however, caught up to her limbs, while sinewy and healthy, were stiff from her mid morning hunt. Her left front paw was slightly swollen, and the deputy knew it would be wise to visit Brightnose...just to be certain nothing was damaged. It was only a nagging sting that greeted her every time she put too much weight on it, but walking normally left her without noticeable pain. As good as her word, she dutifully dropped her quarry into the pile, dipping her head in silent prayer, every thought echoing into the sky. As she raised her head, her oceanic gaze descended upon the calico medicine cat, a ghost of a forced smile rising to her lips. Her shoulders rocked as she advanced upon her, quickly erasing the large gap in between them to only about a foxlength away from the other. “Blessed morning, Brightnose. Do you have a minute?” Her question was harmless enough, but since she held herself in such high regards, even in pain, it wasn't that easy to notice a wound unless in pain sight.

[Cloud of Diamonds]

Brightnose looked at the deputy who had padded up to her in slight surprise, her hazel eyes slightly widening. She'd hardly ever talked to the pale-furred deputy before. "Yes, I certainly have a minute. How may I help you?" The tricolored she-cat assumed that the dignified she-cat needed assistance in some way. From the little she knew of Mistpelt, she had observed that the ivory warrior wasn't one to tarry uneccesarily. Blessed morning..no cat had ever greeted Brightnose like that before. What, the FogClanner wondered, did it mean? Was she speaking of StarClan, perhaps? Yes, that was probably it. After all, who else blessed the Clans? Did that Mistpelt was optimistic about the day to come, or was she simply appreciating that their ancestors were always watching over them? Indeed, Brightnose admittedly didn't think about StarClan too much. But she knew they were there, always there. Her head cocked slightly as she pondered. Yet even the most devoted believers-Rowanheart, for one-had never said anything like that. But then, there was no reason why Mistpelt couldn't have simply thought of it herself. Thankfulness is indeed a virtue, the medicine cat knew that as well as she knew her own pelt.

OOC: Who knows, maybe Bright will ending up kind of liking Mist. x3 She certainly appreciates anyone who can give her something to think about.

[Spec]

Especially as she spoke, Mistpelt was ever watchful of this female's antics. From what she collected over the moons, Brightnose was a thinker, logical and precise. If used accusingly, it could prove a desperate problem for her soul, if she was prepared to reason logic with faith. Balance was everything within a cat, every essence contradicted by the other until reached perfect harmony. She would have to aim her pawfalls careful lest she not tred upon any hidden wrongdoings or provoke unnecessary sin from the medicine cat, for that would clearly be a sorrowful predicament. Starclan forbid Fogclan's own medicine cat would be tainted and unclean, that is, more so than the rest of the unsorted filth she had yet to analyze. Her eyes remained vacant, shielding the stares and blinking accusation that was always present (secretly) within her sea foam optics, sharp as any claw or fang, and perhaps just as deadly. Throbbing, her paw pad sent wary messages to her brain, allowing her to briefly show the slow pain that was slowly creeping up her leg. She long expected something to be wedged within the confines of her foot, maybe a splinter, trapped within her body which would explain the sting. Mistpelt was not a medicine cat, but she had enough sense to figure out what ailed her. She nodded, brushing passed her words as she in turn exchanged her own, words toying upon the air, light yet corporate. “There is a splinter in my paw. I would have taken it out myself, but I didn't want to risk any infection due to impatience.” She ended her speech with a bent head, smoothing down her shoulder fur in between licks. Some herbs would be required, depending on what Brightnose thought about it. The ivory she-cat lifted her paw for her to study, hovering mid height for closer inspection, patiently awaiting the medicine cat's response.

[Cloud of Diamonds]

Brightnose listened to the deputy's reply and leaned forward slightly as the ivory she-cat brought up her paw for inspection. She sniffed. Indeed, there was an odor that didn't belong there, in the usual cat-scent, and just as Mistpelt said, a long, thin piece of wood stuck in her pad. It should be fairly simple to treat; some dock and a poppy seed or two should fix it right up. She lifted her head and spoke to the slightly injured FogClanner. "You made the right choice. I am sure it was not fun to come all the way to me, but in doing so the risk of infection is much less, and StarClan forbid our deputy be infirm with leaf-bare approaching. If you'll just come into my den quickly, I can fix it right up and give you a few poppy seeds if there's any pain." The calico nodded, and rose on her snow,night, and orange-colored legs to make a narrow turn, quickly padding into the small bush where she treated patients. She would ask what caused the splinter as she got the herbs to allieviate it. Had Mistpelt gotten it in a certain place? Was there a certain kind of tree that gave off splinters more than another? Like many things, it would be good to know, especially when she had to go out to gather herbs. Though splinters were easily treatable, they were no fun to pick up, not if you could help it.

[Spec]

Briefly, she scanned camp, aware if anyone were to see her, it could be considered possible weakness. But splinters were splinters, and being what they were, were solely unpredictable. She had been clumsy, in a foolish act of the hunt, or perhaps she was being punished subtly for a sin she had unknowingly committed. Yet, if Starclan indeed wanted her to suffer, Brightnose would have informed her that the stores were empty and their was nothing to treat her with, or perhaps infection could have already started to rot off her flesh, but this wasn't the case, and she continued with civil thought. Keenly she studied her reaction towards her paw and came up with her own assumption, her words merely backing up what she had concluded. With a absent nod, a sharp incline of her head was all she revealed to her agreement, but then her words mutely registered and a small smile crept along the contours of her lips, a ghost of a smile that made her eyes shine with good humor. What would Fogclan do if she unable to carry out Starclan's will? Such a petty injure as a splinter though, was hardly anything to be concerned about and with the risk of infection fading in the back of her mind, it eased her. Gliding forward, she padded cautiously into the medicine cat's den, nostrils quivering as the scent of herb overwhelmed her senses. She had nearly forgotten the last time she willed herself into Brightnose's den, since she was often accused to have the stubbornness of a fox, as well as her own flaming pride. The aroma of poppy and thyme mixed within the den, a pleasant, peaceful scent that plagued her instinctive ideals to remain awake. The quicker the better, then Mistpelt could get back to her duties. Without giving any previous indication of speech, her lips parted and her voice echoed through the closed space. “Poppy seeds won't be required. I wouldn't want you to waste such a precious herb on a trifle thing as a splinter. I can manage the discomfort.”

[Cloud of Diamonds]

The medicine cat nodded amiciably. What the deputy said made sense, it was true. She was a strong cat, there was no doubt of that. The FogClanner took a few steps over to the rock where she kept supplies. She picked out dock's sharp tang in a few seconds and lowered her head to carefully ease it out of its crack with her teeth. As she took it in her mouth, she began to chew the leaf into a mush that would easily spread on the sore spot where the splinter was, after she'd taken it out. The gold, white, and black cat softly padded back to her patient, and with a slight prompt Mistpelt held her paw up so Brightnose could pull it out, after the FogClan she-cat had quickly spat out her chewed dock. With precision, so she didn't puncture the skin, her fangs eased out the harmful piece of wood. Within a few moments the thing was on the floor of the den, and the dock pulp was once more in the medicine cat's mouth. "Here, Mistpelt, just keep your paw still a moment more and I'll lick this onto it."

OOC: Sorry for sort of powerplaying her.

[Spec]

Her eyes partially narrowed into slits, mildly interested with the medicine cat's methods of herbal preparation. She had practiced such things as an apprentice, unsure of which path Starclan had desired her to take. But in the end, the path of a warrior was clear, They had decreed it with care. Looking back in memory both fond and callous, she was certain such a task could have been right for her. Of course she was caring, but she was extremely prejudice. She would not care for a Pineclanner, let alone spare it from death if need be, or even a nonbeliever. Placid and watchful, she stared at Brightnose, sniffing once or twice as she pushed back the stench of herb from her nostrils to focus solely on what she was doing...not that she was suspicious of her, on the contrary, she figured she could trust such a cat in Starclan's eyes, but then again, it left her wondering why they hadn't sent Brightnose Their will. She was They esteemed medicine cat, one who supposedly received foresight and omens and deciphered their meaning...but as far as Mistpelt could see, this calico she-cat was not much in favor with their warrior ancestors at all, or she would have surely have been granted visions such as the deputy did. Could she be...unworthy? This thought left her thoughts rather jagged, hollow with meaning thick on her tongue. She absentmindedly lifted her paw on instinct as Brightnose approached solemnly, chewed pulp in her jaws. The shard of wood fell from her swollen paw, clicking dully upon the den floor, lifeless and deceivingly harmless. Still distracted, she nodded loosely towards the she-cat's soft request/command, her tail rolling in lethargic circles behind her as she waited.

[Cloud of Diamonds]

A sandpapery tongue quickly lapped a mush of dock on a slightly injured pad. Brightnose wondered which question in her mind to ask first. Would Mistpelt be bothered by her inquiries, though? Probably not; but perhaps she was anxious to return to some other task that needed doing. Still, the calico felt sure that one question would not go amiss. Clearing her throat slightly, the medicine cat spoke politely. "If wouldn't be too annoying, Mistpelt, might I ask as to where you think you picked up the splinter? You see, I am curious in the ways of the world, and knowing where splinters might be picked up would be of use to me." It wasn't like the FogClanner to explain herself so, but this was the deputy. Chosen by Owlstar and with the approval of StarClan. StarClan....Brightnose hadn't spoken to the starry cats in a long time. Would they have any news for her come next season? Warnings of sickness or trouble? Perhaps she should visit the MoonGlade, just to be sure. In fact, she should ask Mistpelt about this idea. The ivory she-cat seemed an intelligent she-cat for sure. But Brightnose would give her a chance to reply to her first question before asking her next. Rudeness was not something she practiced, no matter her longing for answers.

[Spec]

Briefly, her eyes flashed the truth; the dock had stung upon contact, tender flesh colliding with the herb. At first, nothing by pain grasped her, but after a while, the agony melted like a strong wind upon the sky, fast and at peace. She would still have to be wary, but the trouble was over. The ivory furred deputy would force herself to rest, even for the tiniest of moments, before going out and returning to her second home, tangled in the surrounding territory outside of camp. It was clear that Mistpelt not only enjoyed providing for her clan, but felt it was her utmost duty, to serve as well as command. Slothful tenancies would never reach her, for she was nearly always on her feet, as much as possible, without hindering her best performance. Ears pricked towards the calico she-cat as her tongue licked the last few strays of dock into her paw, she listened to her words, formality leaking for every angle of her body, a coldness mistaken for conciseness perfected into a mask for her clanmates – or those who she didn't one hundred percent trust. To her question, she merely nodded, tail tossing dully upon the ground where she sat upon her clouded haunches. She kept eye contact though, sea foam gaze never faltering as she spoke, also keeping it as smooth and as tolerating as she could tune it. “Annoying, dear Brightnose? Certainly not... There is a large hollowed out log further eat into our territory. It has always produced a high number of sheltering vole and rabbit. The splinter must have latched onto me when I was running over it.” She wasn't sure why she was giving much thought and explanation into her speech, but with a casual roll of her shoulders, she straightened out her paws, she pushed it away and waited for her response, muttering lightly towards her momentarily once more. A bit of information herself. "I sniffed out juniper at its roots. If you're interested, that is."