The recluse would be found where she always was. Which, sadly, wasn't even much of an exaggeration. As per usual, the blue molly was tucked away in the depths of her den where the shadows gently embraced her and shielded her from the judging eyes. Twig's frantic calls caused her to warily poke her head out into the light of day, the drastic brightness contrasted with the dimness causing her eyes to narrow in irritation.
At first, she thought something was wrong with Twig herself - after all, they had discovered the former loner injured. Nothing was ever that simple, though. StarClan tested her new (and still largely lacking) knowledge with what sounded to be a task too big for her paws. She kept any reservations to herself as she told Twig to grab moss and soak it in water. Meanwhile, she gathered cobwebs and marigolds from within the cave that had slowly, yet surely, begun to resemble an actual medicine den.
With Twig leading the way (hopefully with that watered-down moss in her mouth), it didn't take long to find her soon-to-be patient. Stars, you couldn't ease me into this, could you? She looked down at the bright yellow flowers now resting besides the orange tabby. Her nose crinkled, brows furrowed, as she stared at the happy-go-lucky-looking petals. If the others were to be believed, these pretty little flowers would help with infections and bleeding but... They looked far too dainty to suffice.
Unfortunately, she had no option but to blindly trust the words of her fellow medicine cats. "Dab her wounds with the wet moss... and get those damned leaves off of her wound." They were probably doing more harm than good but now wasn't the time to examine and criticize the injured's handiwork.
While the wound was being cleaned, she plucked petals from the stems of the gathered marigolds before thoroughly chewing them. This felt stupid but it was the best bet she had. Once the area had been cleared by whichever helper stepped forward and the petals chewed into a fine pulp, she spread the "poultice" onto the female's wound. Good thing the she-cat was unconscious. Or, well, maybe it wasn't good but it meant the pain wouldn't be felt. Cobwebs were firmly pressed down after the poultice had been properly applied... At least, she prayed to the stars that she had done it properly.
She tried to settle her racing heart as she sat next to the tabby, a practiced poker face hiding the fear that caused her heart to skip multiple beats. What did she do now? If the moss and pain didn't rouse the molly then there was only one option, "We need to transport her to my den. It'll be safer there." Relatively speaking given some of the cats still thought she would skin them while they slept.
