Specklefrost enjoys the serene calm of the forest. In the herb groves, there is no lurking Morningstar, no glimpse of her thuggish brutes. The sharp smell of radish permeates the air as she plucks their leaves, one by one, with recklessly sharp claws. She lays them in a haphazard pile, because tidiness was never her skill and she doesn't plan on making it one. She's been a medicine cat for some six unhappy moons now, but she's settled into her role, although the bitter wish of a warrior dream is still very much a burden.
"What do you need radish for?" a voice chirps. Specklefrost closes her eyes and sighs, silently; it's the real menace PureClan faces, although they can't tell, even when it stands right under their nose and starts chattering. "Do you eat it?"
"Radish leaves have medicinal properties, Sorrelpaw," she snaps. She whips around to glare at him, a few stray leaves tumbling to the ground. Sorrelpaw bats at one with disarming disinterest. She grits her teeth; he shows no signs of leaving anytime soon, and the radish leaf supply is low as it is. "If you're going to bother me," she says slowly, making sure the idiot understands every syllable, "at least help me while you do it."
After that, it's a tradition. Radish leaf stock is low, one will say to the other, and so they go out and pick astringent leaves together. Soon after Sparkpool's ascension, the radish supply runs dangerously low. He never bothers to fill it back up again.