Disclaimer: If I owned Warriors, they would have made it into a movie by now.
Charlotte walked back to her house, feeling suddenly lonely. Smintheus was gone. But she would never forget him.
One of her housefolk was standing at the door, waiting for her. He picked her up, rubbing a paw over her fur. She purred, warm with love. I liked you, Smintheus, but you were right. I belong here.
Smintheus prowled through the forest, taking care to avoid the Clans. They wouldn't let him off so easily a second time. He flexed his injured leg. The night's rest, together with Charlotte's careful grooming, had worked wonders, but it was still not quite up to normal.
He remembered Quince, a young she-cat with whom he'd had a similar relationship. She'd been nice, but Charlotte had somehow struck a different chord, as though someone had wanted them to come together. As though there was more significance to their actions than either of them had realized.
-------------------
Two months later…
-------------------
Charlotte lay on her side on some towels in a closet, purring happily. She looked down. Six tiny bundles lay next to her, contentedly sleeping.
"Snowy." She gently touched the first kitten, a fluffy white tom, on his head with her tail. He looks like my mother.
She moved on to the next one, a black tom with white on his front paws and under his chin. "Tuxedo," she whispered, remembering a word that her housefolk sometimes used to refer to that pelt pattern.
The next two kittens were orange tabby she-cats with yellow stripes. The only difference between the two was that one of them had a black tail tip. She became Tibby, and her double, Tabby.
Fifth in the line was a golden-brown tabby with the same white markings as Tuxedo. She looked so much like Charlotte's little sister, the smallest one in the litter, who had barely lived long enough to open her eyes and look at the world, that Charlotte's heart twisted painfully.
"Princess."
The lone remaining kit was Smintheus' junior, as bright as fire even in the dark of the closet. Charlotte knew, somehow, that she could not give him the proper name, but he needed a name nevertheless.
"Rusty."
She surveyed her family proudly.
"Sleep, my darlings. Soon enough you will have to face the world. As for you, Rusty, I somehow know that you will do great things. Princess, you will play a part in them. The rest of you- well, we all have a part to play. Perhaps this is mine."
Soon, Charlotte joined her children in slumber.
Author's note: Smintheus is a title of Apollo, a mythological god of prophecy and (of all things) mice. It is best translated "mouse-catcher". A great name for a cat, I think. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!