Mallownose.
"Flareheart, thank Starclan, I thought we'd never get a bite to eat in here." he said warmly as he breathed in the scent of the freshly killed mouse.
He hadn't eaten yet, he wasn't sure he'd grabbed a bite to eat since yesterday because he'd been caught up by his fussing mother when he'd tried to grab a sparrow. It had been a very meaty sparrow and he'd watched in sadness as Spottedtail took it. She was worrying about him as usual, she didn't seem to understand that being a medicine cat wasn't usually a dangerous job. Lately she was worried about his nest and the fact that he hadn't changed it in moons, it was starting to get sort of crunchy and the feathers were tattered from his claws. He hadn't had time to grab more moss and he hated making the apprentices work extra to help him, they were already so hardworking that he couldn't do that to them. He had a lot on his plate already and he couldn't grab the time to make his way to the river to scoop some moss up from the bank. He made a mental note to grab some the next time he collected herbs near the river.
Feathers were a dime a dozen and they kept them around sometimes for the kits, he'd just tuck some in his nest again and then maybe she'd get off his tail. Meadowheart meant well but the death of her two daughters had made her somewhat neurotic and he worried about her mental decline. She watched him sometimes with so much fear that one would think he was constantly going off to battle and he would have to console her with gentle words. She was always popping up in the den and staring at him as if to make sure he was still real and he'd have to guide her out and reassure her that he was going to be just fine. She often told him that Starclan only came to him because his sisters had died and they wanted to take him too, it was always hard to calm her down.
He knew Starclan had sent Robinwing a sign before he'd even been born, a sign of shredded mallow leaves and the smell of their juice burning in her nose. She hadn't known what had torn them to pieces but two moons later there was a new litter of kittens. She had been startled by the name, Mallowkit, and she'd known before he'd even started having his dreams. He was always meant to be a medicine cat and no cat could deny that. His mother didn't understand the signs and she didn't understand the dreams and she didn't understand why he wasn't just a warrior like Puddlefoot. He didn't know how to tell her that he had never wanted to be a warrior like Puddlefoot. He knew that Puddlefoot was disappointed in his position as well, as he had personally done this to spite his kin and he still didn't know how to apologize for what Starclan had chosen for him.
Back in the real world and away from his thoughts, Ravencoat sputtered a cough that sounded more wet than dry. Fluid was usually whitecough but he suspected this wasn't as bad. He didn't seem to request anything to eat and it made Mallownose wonder if that was lack of appetite or just lack of momentary hunger, he had to think these things over.
While Ravencoat explained his cough, albeit it sounded like he wasn't all that worried either, Mallownose nodded and turned to the stock of herbs. "Thought that might be it, I swear by Starclan that I can hear a cough from a mile away." he mumbled thoughtfully before pulling out one of the carefully wrapped honey combs, he unwrapped it and pushed the golden morsel towards the deputy. "I don't prefer to waste honey but you don't sound like you've got greencough, it's not that same rasping sound, dry sound. And we haven't seen a bought of whitecough in ages unless you've come to deliver it to us." he said with good humor and flicked his ears back. "Just give it a few laps and it should ease your throat some. If your throat does start hurting or you get an ache in your chest--please, come back and we'll give the catmint a try. It's better to treat an unseen problem before letting it tear you up."
Turning to Warmpaw, "Make sure he eats his honey and you eat that mouse, I'm not sure if you've eaten any more than me. I can go grab a thrush from the pile." he flicked his tail against Warmpaw's ear as he ducked out of the den with flourish. The sun was up and it warmed his fur as he padded into the camp, he nodded a greeting as he passed his leader and the seasoned queen. He wondered if she was getting enough to eat and nearly paused to ask but he guessed she knew the drill by now. Selecting a thrush from the freshkill pile, he settled down on the warm earth to begin tearing into the feathers.