He had just finished his breakfast - a plump vole - as the sound of ragged breathing approached him from the side. Constantine craned his neck to put the stranger more clearly into view and the cat - barely older than a kit - came to a stop in front of him. 'You're that new cat, right? The one who knows herb stuff?' Constantine didn't have time to process and answer before the youth continued. 'My friend, she got hurt going under one of the thorny two-leg walls. Can you look at it?'

With a curt nod, Constantine followed the cat back to the barn. Upon his arrival, he saw a small she-cat sitting with her hind leg stretched out, the faint hint of blood wafting into the air as she delicately licked around the undoubtedly tender laceration.

'I brought that cat that Gulliver said gave him something that helped his cough.' 'This isn't a cough, Zed.' 'Yeah but he knows stuff!' This 'Zed' had put a lot of faith in him without affirming his identity. Fortunately for them, he was who they thought he was.

"What happened?" Before the healer could do anything, he needed a situation report. 'We were-' The she-cat shot daggers with her gaze at her friend, silencing them. 'They dared me to go under the wall and touch one of the cow kits, but one with horns came out of nowhere and chased me out. I barely got away, but my leg got scratched by the weird thorns on it when I scrambled back under.'

Approaching the she-cat with no apprehension, Constantine sniffed along the wound, ghosting it with a paw to gauge how sensitive it was before pressing lightly - gauging its depth. "It is not a deep wound. You should heal fine, but it will likely scar. I will put something on it to stop the wound from becoming infected. Wait here and keep cleaning it."

Without another word, he loped to his den, fetching some burdock root, goldenrod, thimbleberry leaves and cobwebs. Some might call the burdock redundant, but who knows what sort of dust or dirt was on that fence. Better to treat it as infected even if she had been trying to keep it clean.

Once he returned, he could see the look of both curiosity and disgust in both their eyes as he finished the poultice and applied it directly to the wound. Children. 'Ouch!' The she-cat exclaimed, kicking her other leg against the wall in a defensive reflex. Constantine did not apologize for making sure the cobweb was securely in place.

'Hello, is someone there?' a third voice entered the barn.

Without hesitation, Zed answered.

'We're over here!'

As Zed welcomed the stranger, Constantine gave final instructions to the still nameless she-cat. "Leave it in place for four days and do not submerge it in water. No running. Fetch me after that time so that I may look at it once more and reassess your condition." After a small interlude of silence, he heard a small voice mew 'Thanks.' from behind him as Constantine and Zed switched places, the smoke-colored tom now facing the newcomer.

Beyond the smell of herbs and blood around the barn, Constantine could recognize the familiar category of scents the tom Onionpelt held with him. "You are from Prairieclan?" In his voice, his question towed the line of both question and statement. His orbs scanned the stranger's body language and the bundle in their maw. Were they here to trade so soon?

"Yes, I am their medicine cat. I'm Maplefrost,"

Maplefrost. Medicine Cat. He recognized that name from what Onionpelt had mentioned. Constantine was extremely interested in meeting another healer, though his face displayed the calm mask he had been trained to wear all of his life, and had now since become a part of his identity. "I am called Constantine." The smoke tom returned with a minute respectful nod.

His half gaze watched as the larger tom sat as he spoke, moving softly from him to the herbs and then back again. Those would certainly be useful additions to his stock.

Constantine had known of the agreement, and while other cats may have taken Maplefrost's words with offense or undue chill, Constantine did not. His view on life had been crafted from birth as purely contractual. One did not get something for free. There was something always to be traded, even if it were not like items.

Thankfully, Constantine had been thinking ever since he returned from his meeting with Onionpelt about which herbs he might bring. The healer wanted to be useful, impress perhaps - to show his own value.

"I have been told about that agreement, yes." Constantine shuffled for a moment. "I understand, and would not dare to exploit your offer made in good faith. I do have some to offer in turn, in fact. Please, wait here."

Leaving Maplefrost's bundle at the barn so that the medicine cat would hopefully not think him to be running away with no reason to come back, Constantine slipped out of the barn and made the trip back to his den once again.

He had already bundled what he planned to offer, Maplefrost's presence here now saved him from having to anxiously worry about finding a Prairieclan patrol and asking to see one of their healers on their land.

He trotted back into the barn several moments later, placing the vine-wrapped bundle in front of Maplefrost respectfully. "I came across one of your warriors the other night. Onionpelt. I asked him what herbs your clan might need, seeking an informed trade. He mentioned coughs being of concern. Which made sense with the colder moons ahead. So I put together some catmint, chokecherry bark and milkwort from what extra I had. I hope your clan stays healthy and has no urgent need of these herbs, but prudence and preparation are what us healers are known for, is it not?"

"You loners always have such... interesting names." He was not wrong, though Constantine found clan cat's names equally foreign. Onionpelt, Newtnose, Lionflower, Maplefrost, Littlestar. They obviously had a two part theme, but why a cat would be called a newt he did not know.

"But what does your name mean? Do you even know?"

Constantine reflected, unphased by Maplefrost's asking. "I do not know for sure." He started. "My mother gave it to me and she was not one who you could ask 'why' led questions. So I did not ask." Constantine tensed a bit at the thought of his dam. "A friend once told me that he had heard his house-folk say the word one time. It must be a term that originated in their language. How my mother came across it, I do not know." The healer shrugged his shoulders slightly.

As Maplefrost inspected the herbs Constantine had brought, the loner could not help but be pleased with the medicine cat's reaction to the catmint. Though his mask did not show it. The clan cat then paused at the milkwort, inspecting it further.

This was the second time Maplefrost mentioned weakness, and how Constantine should not consider him weak. Constantine hadn't, but obviously putting on a strong front was important to the medicine cat. It made him wonder how vulnerable he and his clan were, even if Constantine were not a cat to take advantage of others.

"I brought it with me on my travels. It grows in dense forests. Considering the name of your clan, I venture it may not grow in your territory. It is similar to both honeysuckle and catmint. For respiratory conditions."

Constantine listened as Maplefrost explained both his name, and in a roundabout way, the naming scheme of the clans - or at least his clan. But Constantine would wager all three would share it.

It seemed so…utilitarian. Which in a way, he supposed, was better than what he figured Maplefrost thought was the strange and comparatively random names loners could have. He particularly did not understand the need to label their young. Of course they were kittens. But transitional milestones were important to these cats, apparently.

"I see it as pragmatic. Not bad." Constantine was not asked for his opinion. And he believed Maplefrost may have been speaking sarcastically, but Constantine couldn't be sure of that. Though he did want to assure him Constantine did not think him rude.

As the massive tom continued into the story of how he became Prairieclan's medicine cat - his explanation for not knowing what milkwort was - the healer continued to listen. The fact that his homeland did not support the plant was a good enough reason for him. The tabby's vulnerability was somewhat lost on him as Maplefrost explained that he had apparently not been trained like other medicine cats. Was how he learned that important, compared to him learning it in the first place? Considering their life transitions merited name changes, he ventured it was a correct lead to follow. Even if Constantine himself did not agree with it.

"I am sorry for your loss." It was obvious Maplefrost cared for this Shrikeberry.

As Maplefrost mentioned he wished he could have learned more, Constantine immediately thought of eagerly offering himself as a tutor. But his sister's voice chimed in his mind. It was too soon, it would be seen as rude. Afterall, Maplefrost barely knew him.

He fought his desire to help versus simple etiquette. Struggling to make it seem as genuine and sympathetic to his circumstances as possible. "I too did not expect to be a healer, but the cats I traveled with taught me their ways to both help and educate others…I know I am a stranger, and you have no reason to trust my intentions are genuine, but if you are ever unsure of anything, I would not think you weak to ask another for help." Constantine mirrored Maplefrost's ear movement, but in anxiety rather than pest control. "I would also not at all be offended if you wish to ask another clan's medicine cat if my milkwort and its use case are legitimate…Though, from what I understand, the clan's are not on good terms with each other. Or rather, it's incredibly complicated. Onionpelt mentioned something about Ridgeclan's old leader inciting an incident that caused violence. But not much else."

He did not expect Maplefrost to accept his offer blindly, but the fact that it was not immediately rejected was encouraging. Perhaps he could have a growing relationship with this Maplefrost. He couldn't deny it felt nice to converse with someone who was not, at best, confused and, at worst, repulsed when the subject of herbs came up.

Still mirroring the larger tom, his body tensed reflexively as he saw Maplefrost notice some other cats enter the barn from the smaller tom's blind side. His focus had been so solely on the massive tabby in front of him that the noise gave him a small start; a tingle that shot down his spine until the scents of the unseen residents wafted into his waiting nose with their relative familiarity and he relaxed.

Constantine had tried to ask Onionpelt about their Starclan, but had gotten little in the way of answers. Considering Maplefrost was in communication with these deceased clan cats, perhaps the medicine cat could be the one to fill him in on one of the glaring dark spots in his growing knowledge of clan life.

"It is my understanding that your ancestors reside in a 'Starclan.' How is it that a living cat can communicate with long dead cats?" He failed to see how that knowledge might be considered taboo to share with an outsider, or even rude to ask at all, and his question rolled off his tongue with the genuine ease of artless curiosity.