Mittens was out in the cornfields in her owners home, playing with a pink butterfly, which she just couldn't seem to reach. The butterfly fluttered away, Mittens gave up the chase, she sat down and began to lick her puffy fur. Boom! A polished black mistle headed straight towards Mittens' fluffy head. She ran just before the mistle dug into the ground where Mittens had been sitting. Mittens' owner ran out the door, a worried look on her face, scooped up Mittens, and brought her inside. Mittens heart was beating faster then she had ever thought possible. Her owner whispered under her breath "The war is coming." Of course people would think that cats wouldn't understand what her owner, Matilda said, but Mittens did.

Soldiers were outside, wounded in their arms, and legs, and faces. Mittens didn't know how, but she needed to help. The very next day, Mittens was outside in the meadow when a storage wagon passed by her. It was hulking with medicine, and Mittens couldn't help but jump onto it. The smell of medicine overwhelmed her senses, and she rubbed her paw over her nose. The ground blurred beneath her paws, and she couldn't get off until it slowed down.

 A huge white building was in the distance, and the wagon slowed to a halt. Mittens saw dark gray clouds lingering in the sky. She knew what that meant. Half an hour later, she jumped off the wagon. She was there, the hospital. A white hospital loomed over her. It flaked with dust with three visible holes in the walls. It wasn't in great shape, but it wasn't horrible. She ran inside when a man with huge paws opened the door. Inside there was a lobby. It looked a lot better from the inside. It was dappled with chairs, a huge desk with a person behind it in the middle. She scurried over to the nearest operating room, the people in the lobby staring. But they didn't stop her. Inside the operating room she saw him. The soldier from last night, the one she saw through the window.

 She jumped clumsily onto his bed, stumbling into his lap. He shockingly laughed, like the way Matilda did when Mittens fell into her water bowl, splashing it on the wooden floor. The man reluctantly put his good hand on the cat, stroking it. He smiled. A nurse pushed open the door, a clipboard in her hand. When she lied her eyes on Mittens she gasped and picked her off the mans lap by the scruff. "No, she can stay." Said a surprisingly gruff voice, belonging to the man, who was struggling to sit up but soon gave up. He looked young, under 30, Mittens thought. The nurse placed Mittens back on his lap and walked out the door. The man looked back down at Mittens. "My name's Robert." He grinned. Mittens regretfully remembered that she should be getting home soon. She glanced out the window, not wanting to leave her spot now that it was raining. "You can sleep on my cott tonight." Robert said, smiling.