A set of blue eyes stared upward at the boulder that the leaders stood on during the gatherings. It was been nearly two seasons since her exile from RainClan, she was certain that Stormstar had told the other clans about her. There was nothing left for her among them. She'd never willingly go and join another Clan. The mountains were too harsh for a she-cat used to living by the grace of her Clanmates. She was lucky to have survived the leafbare, eating food normally left for the crows. Swanfeather wouldn't go as far as to say she regretted her actions. However, she did regret losing.
This feeling urged the she-cat to venture to the valley's scared meeting place. She knew that StarClan did not want her in moontree, that was made very clear the last time she had a dream within the hollow cavern where the tree lived.
Walking in a small circle, Swanfeather found somewhere soft that she could rest. She found it unable to rest but did find the spot suitable to relax. Swanfeather had no plans and knew that the gathering was pretty far away. She could find shelter among StarClan's claws for as many day she needed before moving on.
He'd come out towards StarClan's claws once again, his paws taking him there whenever matters of the Clan started weighing too much on him. He was going to be responsible for their health, for the health of kits and queens and everyone. He was starting to get just a little bit overwhelmed, and it didn't help matters any that his mentor was moons younger than him. It seemed sort of backwards, the older cat being mentored by the younger. But she was trained and he was not, so there was that. As much as he adored Bluejay sometimes being around her all the time drove him stircrazy. So he'd gone out again, with the excuse of gathering herbs.
He'd found a few, and a fat rabbit as well, before he realized where he was. He could still remember the encounters he'd had with a pretty StoneClan she-cat named Herondive, and wondered if her paws would lead her here today as well. But...his nose caught the scent of RainClan. Faded, but there. Another cat come out to enjoy the solitude? Or an enemy trying to sneak into one of the adjacent territories? He didn't know, and quickly hid prey and the pitiful amount of herbs he'd gathered in case he had to fight.
Falconstorm had been a warrior first, and so he slunk his body close to the ground and slowly stalked forward, looking around as cautiously as possible for the origin of the scent. When all he found was a she-cat relaxing on one of the softer places. She smelled of RainClan, but it was very weak. He wondered at it, then at why she was there, then shook both thoughts off. She was thin. At least he thought so.
She had to be one of the exiled RainClan cats, like the group that had attacked Herondive when they'd first met. Though he had never met her face to face, he assumed this had to be Swanfeather, RainClan's former medicine cat. Loner or not, she was too thin and it bothered him.
He drew himself up and approached her slowly so as not to seem too hostile. He was so used to protecting, to providing, that seeing even this she-cat who was exiled and had wronged so many of her clanmates so thin and fragile, moved him. "I mean you no harm." Perhaps there was a reason she couldn't provide well enough for herself. "Have you been injured at all?" Medicine cat or not, it was impossible to treat onesself in certain situations.
Swanfeather noticed the arrival of the tom-cat and quickly got to her feet. He wasn't rushing toward her, which for the time being meant he wasn't a threat. Yet that didn't calm her heart as it started to speed. She was in no condition to fight. Swanfeather new learned much more than the basics to defend herself and it was easily recognized that the cat coming toward her was fully trained. All warriors had a certain air about them, a sense that they honed their bodies well. Swanfeather lacked the grace, her skills were in her paws, the abiltiy to fix and tend to wounds and illness. She'd never be a match for a warrior.
As his words met her ears, Swanfeather couldn't help but let her ears shift back, pointing backwards. Her lip coming up in a mock scowl. She wasn't able to trust him, plenty of cats had 'meant her no harm' but that didn't stop them from stealing from her. Life as a loner in the valley was not for the weak of heart, so many nights Swanfeather dreamed of giving up, but her desire to leave fueled her onward.
His second question puzzled her. Her expression showed it as her ears shifted forward. Normally warriors didn't bother with the well-being of an enemy cat, it was quickly shaping up to be a different kind of interaction.
"I'm fine," She told him simply, flicking her tail as her eyes narrowed a bit.
He knew he should let this drop, that this she-cat wasn't part of his clan and wasn't any of his business. Yet somehow he couldn't just leave her here like this. She was thin, and to his gaze her pelt seemed dull and thin, like she wasn't able to grow it as thick as most since she wasn't eating well enough. He wasn't sure why she was alone, though he remembered being told that she and many others had been banished. So where were the others? Why would they abandon their medicine cat if they were without the safety of their clan? Was she sick? He didn't know enough about the situation to leave it alone.
"You are clearly not fine." He bit out, ears flicking as he looked around what would soon host the Gathering of the Clans. For now it was a safe place, on neutral ground. It was almost eerie how quiet it was right now. "Is your stomach unsettled? Paws dried out?" Two things that made hunting very difficult. Cracked paws were painful, and the leafbare had been difficult.
He took a breath and let it out. "My name is Falconstorm." Not that it mattered in this situation, but Honeysong would shred his ears if he didn't observe the basic niceties.
She expected him to leave. There was no reason for the tom to continue hanging around. Swanfeather knew how to take care of herself, granted she was starving and perhaps a little worn down, but she knew what herbs to use to tend to those problems, at least for a little while.
Her irritation for him was visible in the lashing of her tail and glare in her pretty blue eyes. She didn't trust him and didn't want to be indebted to a TreeClan cat. The last thing she needed was to be coddled by a cat that had no business nosing around her ill-fated life.
Hearing his words only furthered her annoyance and if Swanfather had any strength she'd lash out and cuff the tom's ears. He had no reason to talk to her in such a way.
"I am a medicine cat," She left out the all importnat was. It wasn't important. "I know how to take care of my own unsettled stomach and paws. I've been a medicine cat longer then you've been alive! I'm probably older then your mother!" She growled in fading frustration. The more heated she got the worse she felt. The lack of food was catching up with her.
Upon hearing his name Swanfeather felt almost obligated to do the same but she stopped herself. The last thing she needed was RainClan getting wind that she was still in the valley. Plenty of them hoped she was dead either lost to the elements or eaten alive by demon. Perhaps that was what drew her to TreeClan, seek out the monster of a lynx's den to end her suffering.
Pushing away her dark thoughts, Swanfeather found her paws unsteady and had to sit back. Woozy and slightly out of it, the she-cat tried to keep up her tough look by continuing to glare at him. "I don't need your help Falconstorm," She replied coldly.