In a rare moment like this, when Luca was out and Sable had the Medic’s den to themself, the tall, dark cat had decided to… get comfortable, in a sense. Their den with Eve before joining the Kingdom had always been laden with a cluster or two of flowers, in memory of their mother Lydia, and if they were going to stay here permanently, well…

The big lumbering fool they shared a title with would surely comment on this uncharacteristic decision of theirs when he skipped back in at a later time, but they knew it would be easy to convince him that someone else had brought some flowers by the den—

They’d tell him, drolly, that whoever it was – because the smoke tabby had still not bothered to learn all the names of the new cats in the camp yet (which, yes, was done more purposefully than anything else) – had obviously not realized the flowers were utterly useless but they hadn’t had the time to chuck them out after that idiot had left.

He’ll likely want to keep them, they thought, gently laying the early bright red and white blooms of spring about the entrance, being sentimental and soft. But that would work out in their favor.

The question was, did they give a token argument such an idea or just give him the most deadpan blink they could manage before acquiescing? Decisions, decisions…

Turning, they had only taken a few, thoughtful steps deeper into the den before the scent of blood rolled in, not unlike a wave on the shoreline. Tense snapped through their frame for a brief moment, before forcing themself back to their usual inscrutable calm—

Only to find a big blue tom lurching towards them, obviously panicked.

Their blank yellow stare darted over him quickly, finding his bloodied flank with practiced ease. It was hard to tell how badly the long wounds actually were and if they were deep at all from a glance, as the bleeding made it difficult to tell – the tom obviously didn’t understand that his hasty, jerky movements were only making aggravating the blood flow outward.

Suddenly, Sable wished Luca was back already: the idea of cleaning this stranger’s injuries was a more than a touch repulsive and not just because the smoke tabby had always shied away from the tang of blood on her tongue but because the action was… intimate, for them, something they’d only exclusively done for Eve.

Still… Steeling themself, they quietly beckoned the clan ca—the riverwalker into the den proper, before spinning on their heels to start picking out herbs from their meager (albeit growing) stores.

"Calm down."