Nymblemyst

The misty, London fog drifted slowly off the silent waters of a small river near a large junkyard. The fog drifted over the ground and spread, making the whole world seem sad and dismal. The sun grew bleaker and bleaker until it was blotted out all together by the low, dark, oppressive clouds.
In the foggy dimness, a lone figure emerged from the shadows. Tall, with graceful, sinewy movements, the figure stopped by the river and sat down on the bank. The form was a very beautiful, young queen, blacker than midnight, with deep purple eyes. A single pumpkin-orange stripe began at her nose, ran over her left eye, curled down her chest and stomach, around her body, and ended at the tip of her tail. Slender, graceful, silent, she sat upon the bank, staring softly at the misty water with her violet eyes.
Her name was Nymblemyst, but nobody but her knew her name. She was just like a shadow, coming and going as she pleased, and disappearing without a trace. She was traveling, searching for love. She did not need it, but she was determined to keep her magic going in the next generation, for she was an Eros. Anyone who touched her fell deeply and truly in love. She would mate, then disappear, leaving her kittens to flourish into a new generation of Eros. She had had many, many kittens, but she needed one more litter to ensure the survival of the Eros. It had to be a special tom. One that did not just love her, but one she loved in return.
Nymblemyst’s silky ears picked up the sound of padded footfalls on the worn path. Her purple eyes lifted from the misty water. A younger, black and white tom was striding down the path, his gait strong and sure, even in the blinding fog. He was cute, but Nymblemyst did not sense love for him. At least, not yet.
The tom stopped short as he saw someone by the pool. Mist curled around her, giving her an almost unearthly glow. She was the most beautiful queen he had ever seen in his whole life. He stepped closer. “Hello,” he said softly.
“Hello,” the queen replied, her voice more musical than flutes.
“Who are you?” the tom asked.
“My name is not important,” said the queen kindly. “But, please tell me, who are you?”
“My name is Alonzo,” the tom responded, moving closer. “Are you lost?”
“Not lost. Merely traveling,” Nymblemyst said, her deep eyes shimmering softly.
Alonzo had to shake himself out of staring. “Any queen like you shouldn’t be out on a dreadful day like this. There is a junkyard not too far from here. You can stay there with my tribe until the fog lifts.”
Perhaps my love is there! the queen thought. I shall find him. “I shall go,” she replied, standing to her feet like a flower blooming in the early morning sunlight.
Alonzo positively stared now. “Wow,” he murmured.
The queen took no notice. “Shall we go?”
Alonzo slowly nodded. “Come on. This way.” He reached for her paw. Nymblemyst slid her paw away from his. Anyone who touched her fell deeply in love, and clearly this tom was already smitten with her, and she would hate to break his heart now.
In the short walk to the junkyard, Alonzo could not tear his eyes from the queen. She was so beautiful. He wanted her so bad, but, as he gazed at her, he knew he was not for her. He was too… lowly. He was not worthy of her. Besides, he had Cassandra waiting for him at the junkyard.
The two entered the junkyard. Every single cat paused what they were doing to stare. Almost instantly, every single tom was on his feet and slowly approaching the queen. “Hello,” they chorused, almost as if they had rehearsed it. It was a soft, reverent kind of ‘hello.’
A group of worry-eyed queens followed the toms, holding their arms as if afraid to let go. Nymblemyst remained silent, but she smiled at each cat in turn. Then her eyes turned to each of the toms, searching each face with an open, hopeful heart, but none were him. For a while. Then, when she was about to give up, her eyes lit on a young tom standing at the edge of the crowd. A young, brown and white tom with a patch of brown over his left eye. He was staring openly at her, his pretty, forest green eyes wide. “Wow,” he mouthed silently to no one.
Nymblemyst’s eyes grew wider. This tom. The one she was searching for! How she knew, she knew not. She slowly left Alonzo’s side and approached the young tom. His eyes grew even wider, giving him a carefree, innocent kitten look, one that was surprisingly handsome on his baby-face. She smiled softly at the young tom. “Hello.”
“Hello,” said Pouncival softly, his forest green eyes shining with delight. “Who… who are you?”
“What matters is, who are you?” Nymblemyst asked.
“My name’s Pouncival,” said the young tom said. He smiled softly at the beautiful queen.
Nymblemyst reached out and took his paw, sending her magic through him. It was obvious he was truly in love, just by the look in his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Pouncival,” she said, slowly leading him away from the rest of the group who quietly dispersed.
Within the next few days, Pouncival and Nymblemyst had become a couple. They loved each other very deeply. In a few months, Pouncival and Nymblemyst had had a beautiful litter of three kittens: Donahue, Windkey, and Mystify.
A few weeks after the kittens had been born, Nymblemyst knew she had to leave. Her time was drawing short. She silently got up and kissed each kitten’s sleeping head, giving her Eros power to each sleeping form. Then she brushed Pouncival’s fur from his eyes and kissed his lips softly. He smiled in his sleep and purred a bit. Nymblemyst smiled softly to herself. “Good bye, my love.”
With silent steps and a heavy heart, she left her mate and her three kittens forever, slinking off into the darkness to face whatever destiny lie in wait.
When Pouncival awoke the next morning, his mate was gone. Though the Jellicles searched high and low for her, they never found her again. Pouncival grieved for the loss of his mate, but he cared for her kittens as any perfect mate would. The kittens grew older and eventually had kittens of their own. And Pouncival forever through his life waited for his unknown mate, who had vanished into the shadows one warm, September night.
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