Specklefrost has always been aloof when it comes to Sorrelstorm. He's hesitant to ask for herbs, the way she snaps. He's only a little younger than she is, but she seems classically timeless, rude in a way that feels like it belongs to older times. At first he believes she's that way with everyone, until tiny Whitepaw is forced into her tutelage. He can't help but seeing the gentle way she treats the young she-cat, mothering her despite the fact she is no longer a kit. And the apprentice is brilliant with herbs, in a way Specklefrost can never master. Whitepaw, small and pale, is ready for her test too soon. Sorrelstorm is not surprised when Specklefrost returns from the river alone, so he lets her shelter against his side, that haughty light banished from her eyes.