Honestly, Mistypelt often just came out by the stream to think.  True, she could replenish a fair bit of her stock here by the river, but better than that?  The medicine Cat would swear up and down that she was able to hear things in the rustle of the leaves and the soft trickle of the streams.   Her pale silvery pelt was clinging to her legs as she waded in the water, gathering up some weeds that had grown along the bank.  She didn't terribly mind the cold, nor the water.  True, she was not a swimmer, nor was she a Riverclan cat, but she still could do what she needed to.  It was the sound of a warrior coming her way that had her ears perking, those gray-hazel eyes training on.  Ah! 

"Beetlerunner."  She recognized most of the cats in her Clan at this point.   After all, she'd been around for a long while.  "What are you doing out this way?  Following prey?