"Can't you shut her up?" The loudest yowl came from a dark russet tabby, a fat shecat with slanting yellow eyes called Thorn. At her belly slept five kits, all mixtures of russet red and grey. She narrowed her eyes to slits towards a thick-furred, small plain brown shecat. The shecat glared back.
"I don't recall you being quiet while you kitted, Thorn." The brown shecat shot. Thorn hissed and lowered her head again, trying to block out the sounds of the birthing queen.
The birthing queen was a slender-legged golden, spotted tabby shecat called Sunflower. Right at that moment, Sunflower screeched and stretched as sliding out came a sopping bundle of light brown. The shecat caught the kit, and began to lick it swiftly.
"Well done Sunflower, a healthy little tom."
"Thank you, Hawker." Sunflower panted back, before yelping again. Hawker, the plain brown shecat, bent to catch the second kit, a dark golden tom. Hawker placed the two kits at Sunflower's belly and placed a paw on her stomach.
"One more." Hawker explained, but she was cut off halfway through as a dark little clump of cat appeared, hitting the floor with a soft wump. Hawker pulled the squealing kit to Sunflower's belly and sat back, licking a big brown paw.
"You're done. That was fast." Hawker commented. Sunflower panted and sighed, looking down at the three kits.
"Can the father come to see them?" She asked. Hawker shook her head, amber eyes gleaming.
"You know the rules. No tom who's not a kit can come into the Queen's Floor." Hawker replied. She paused, and then stretched her neck forwards to lick the golden shecat's head. "You can take them outside and show them off briefly tomorrow." Sunflower nodded lazily.
"Ok." She murmured, curling around them. "Tomorrow."
YOU ARE READING
Recruit {Warriors}
FanfictionBloodClan. The most feared clan in all the world has changed, and not for the better. The blood-thirsty clan has reorganised themselves and moved into an abandoned area in an urban town near the clans. Life for all cats is about to become a matter o...
