The warrior eventually found its patrol again, led by one of the few authorities it almost genuinely admired, senior warrior and Stoatsneer's former mentor, Stinkbugpurr. She was a soft, nihilistic she-cat with an appearance befitting of her nature; thin, scarred, and graying, with the white of her face not at all dissimilar to the look of a skull, but with such warm yellow eyes. It was hard to believe that in her younger seasons she'd been a vicious fighter. Stoatsneer had to admit her personality once sickened it, how a cat could be so effortlessly beloved. How she could so sweetly turn down the prospects of being deputy and still be perfectly content. Stinkbugpurr was a puzzle, and she'd been testing Stoatsneer's wits and patience from the moment it touched noses with her at its ceremony.
She dipped her head to Stoatsneer as it slipped into the group. ;"How did it go?";
"Just RiverClan's medicine cat. Stargazing near the border." It replied flatly.
Stinkbugpurr narrowed her eyes. ;"Should we... bring this up?";
"Told 'im I wouldn't make a big deal about it."
The senior warrior gave a tentative nod, glancing back towards the border. ;"I trust you, dear. It's the half-moon, the medicine cats are bound to be out and about.";