His footsteps light and soundless, the Tom quietly made his way to his brother's room. He had been very suspicious of what has been going on since the tabby decided to cut himself off from the outside world, staying inside all the time. Slowly, he drew the tattered curtain away to peek inside at candle-lit room. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could vividly make out a dark shape, with its back turned to him.
Tugger watched as the figure reached out to light another candle, something hanging from his clenched fist. He couldn't make out what it was, but it was a silvery shape, with five points. Eyes narrowing, he strained to hear the whispered words that were spoken, but failed. Sighing softly, he let his paw fall, the drape going back to its original spot. Quietly, he crept back to his own room to think.
Collapsing into a bed of silks and pillows, the Tom sighed again, biting his lower lip. He was very concerned about his brother and also curious to what he was doing. Thinking back to a month ago, he replayed the events in his mind. A month ago, Munkustrap became depressive, never smiling, never talking, never eating. He didn't play nor do anything, he just sat on the tire, a tired, ghostly look to him. His face was pale, his eyes were clouding, his fur became knotted from being unkept and brushed. But whenever he did speak, he only spoke with a flat, whispering tone that sent shivers up everyone's spine.
Chin resting on his paw, Tugger remembered clearly what had happened every time the tabby spoke. He spoke of death, of darkness, of loneliness. His eyes flashed fire; his tone became harsh but stayed in the soft, haunting area. None of them knew why he behaved like this, but it was clear something was up. A day later, he cut himself off from the world around him, refusing to talk to anyone including Tugger. He stayed inside his room all the time, with the curtain drawn over the entrance.
Curling up into a ball, the maned Tom closed his eyes and tried to rid the thought of what his older brother was doing…
Munkustrap sat silently on a black silk pillow, the candle's lights illuminating the room. Slowly, he raised his bowed head to stare at the black candle before him. His eyes traveled around the room, until they fell apon a wonderfully decorated dagger. They lingered there for a moment before he reached out and grasped it, while turning his other wrist over so the palm of his hand was facing him. Putting the side of the blade to his skin, he pulled his dagger backward to leave a trail of blood. The sides of his mouth curved up at the sight of the red droplets…
To be continued...
