Rainywhisker looks towards the mouth of the den, his kitty brows shooting up at the sight of Splitstorm. He had been frowning at their herb store moments ago, before she made her way in. But she took priority over his stubbornness, especially with a visible wound. It didn't appear to be actively bleeding anymore, which the tom felt instant relief over, but the she-cat came off as irritated. He wonders briefly if there was a connection between the wound and the temperament.
"Good afternoon," the gray tom meows slowly, finally moving to greet the other warrior with a dip of his head.
"I suspect you want help for that. That's not fresh, what happened, and when?" He decides that perhaps getting Splitstorm to talk to him about what he was looking at might help him somewhat... As he steps around the she-cat to study the wound more closely.
No matter what would happen, the tom wouldn't ever grow accustomed to this sort of behavior from himself. Him, a medicine cat? He felt guilty for it almost, somehow. And what would his Clanmate say if he admitted... He had no idea how to treat her wound!
[ @
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