"What I don't get is why you told them that I pulled those poor kits out of a hat." Mistoffelees was speaking in quite a low voice, since three adult cats sat not far away, speaking about the newly arrivals.
The entire tribe were sitting outside the TSE 1, waiting for any of the matrons to come out and tell them if the kittens would live. Most of the Jellicles were also shooting strange glances Mistoffelees's way, and the younger cats looked at him with unhidden admiration.
Pouncival grinned. "It's just a joke, M. I couldn't exactly come up to them and say 'hi, I rescued these kittens from certain death by the cunning use of a crane and my freaky superfeline strength.' This way it'll be something of a mystery. They know you didn't do it, so who could it be?"
"I could have done it," said Mistoffelees sulkily.
"With all due respect, you can't just make kittens appear out of thin air. I don't think anybody could do that."
Mistoffelees had to agree on that. "You could have just said that you found them in the water, and managed to get them out. You don't have to mention the whole strength and crane thing."
Pouncival shrugged. "Too late now, anyway. This is kind of fun too."
Jennyanydots came sauntering out of the car, and the Jellicles all looked at her expectantly. She was smiling, always a good sign.
"They are all alive, and all of them feel just fine," she reported. "They are two queens and five toms. The elder queen said her name is Electra and that she is three months old. She remembers a lot of dark, and a lot of water, so from this Jelly and I have drawn the conclusion that they have all spent a considerable amount of time in the river."
"The river?" asked Munkustrap and frowned. "How did they get out of that one?"
"Misto magicked them out, didn't you Misto?" said Tumblebrutus merrily and grinned at the magician.
"I didn't put them here," said Mistoffelees calmly. "I don't know where they came from."
"Well, someone must have put them here," argued Tumblebrutus sensibly. "They couldn't just have floated out of the water by themselves."
"Can you make this Electra say anything else?" Munkustrap asked Jennyanydots, ignoring Tumblebrutus. "Anything valuable at all?"
"We can try," said the Gumbie cat and shrugged. "Although she and her little friends are in shock, so it might take a while before we can get anything else out of them. And there is another matter which is really rather urgent..."
Munkustrap nodded. "Yes?"
"Three of the kittens are in the need of a wet-nurse. If they don't get milk soon, they're going to starve. I suggest we send messengers to the other tribes around the neighbourhood, to see if they have a queen who's had kittens herself recently and has room for one more."
The Jellicle protector turned around to Skimbleshanks and Alonzo. "Would you two be so kind and spread the word of the kittens to the nearby tribes? Perhaps someone recognizes them. See if you can find any wet-nurses as well. In the meantime, they are our responsibility."
Jennyanydots beamed at him.
After a few days of asking around, the Jellicles found out that not only could the three nursing kittens find homes in the Jorat tribe, but all five of the males could also live there. The Jorats had been fortunate in that they just had two queens coming down with kittens, but the offspring were only female, and they would need mates when the time came. The prospect of getting fresh blood into the tribe was a chance too great for them to say no to, so within three days the five toms were carried off to live with the Jorats.
The queens however, seemed quite happy to stay with the Jellicles. They settled in beautifully and were soon the darlings of all the older queens. The newcomers were Electra, already playing tag and wrestling with the young toms, and little Jemima, who was small and shy. She mostly kept to Jennyanydots and Jellylorum until Etcetera decided she should play with the rest of the kittens. Etcetera usually got her way when it came to things like that.
Life went on at the Jellicle junkyard, in mostly the same way it always had. Mostly. The Rumpus Cat dutifully went out patrolling the alleys every night to see if there was anybody he could help, but there was rarely anything worse than a particularly large rat threatening a human. The Rumpus Cat couldn't understand why the human was so afraid, but he ate the rat nonetheless and was thankful for the snack.
No matter what he did though, the rumour of it soon reached the Jellicles. Rumpus Cat soon became a name that everybody knew, and it often showed up in conversations. Cats wanted to know who he was, how come he was so strong, and where did he come from?
The common theory was that he was a member of the Javanese tribe. The Javaneses were known to be mysterious and strange, and they rarely interacted with the other three cat tribes of London. However, Cassandra was originally Javanese, and she denied knowing anything about the Rumpus Cat. Another theory was that he was a stray, not belonging to any tribe at all, and that he had been taken prisoner by human cat-stealers who had performed experiments with him and caused him to have superfeline strength... Pouncival encouraged ideas like that. He found them extremely amusing.
So came one fateful night. It began like every other, with Pouncival changing into the Rumpus Cat and going out to roam the streets. It was quite a calm night, with a wonderful full Jellicle moon hanging over the rooftops, its beams gently caressing the streets. The humans kept inside, for they knew perfectly well that the night did not belong to them. This was a cat night, a Jellicle night, and the Rumpus Cat felt a slight tinge of guilt as he snuck out instead of staying at home with his family.
He strolled casually down Campden Hill Road, savouring the moonlight. It looked like it was going to be another quiet night, when suddenly he heard someone crying softly. The hero stopped, every muscle in his body tense. He listened. The crying was not very far away, and the Rumpus Cat thanked his superior hearing, or he might not have heard it.
Almost automatically emerging into the shadows and becoming one with the night, he left Campden Hill Road and walked into one of the nearby alleyways. The crying intensified, soft complaining sobs of absolute despair. It was a queen crying. She walked slowly down the alley, tears running down her cheeks. Occasionally she stopped and wiped her face free, and then she started walking again. She passed the Rumpus Cat where he stood, and he saw her face.
'Patti?' he thought.
She wasn't supposed to be out tonight. It was a full moon. Jellicles kept to their territory during full moons, to rest and meditate, and father would be angry with Pattipaws once she got home. But she was crying, and a small, nervous little-brother part of the Rumpus Cat wanted to go up to her and comfort her. She wouldn't like it if he did that, though, he knew. Pattipaws hated it when people saw her cry.
The Rumpus Cat's nose caught a scent of Pollicle, and all his senses were immediately on full alert. It took him under a second to localize the dog, who was rummaging through a garbage can a bit ahead. The Rumpus Cat felt how his stomach turned into a cold little knot.
His sister was heading right for the Pollicle.
Pattipaws's day had started quite well. She had gone for a walk and met a very handsome tom from the Javanese tribe, who clearly had made eyes at her. He had suggested they'd meet up that same evening and walk around together, perhaps have something to eat, and she had agreed that this was a very good idea. She had prepared for it all day, cleaning her fur and made sure that her whiskers lay perfectly. When the evening finally came she had snuck out of the junkyard and arrived ten fashionable minutes late to the spot where she was supposed to meet the tom.
He hadn't been there. Pattipaws wasn't sure if it was due to her being late, or if he had never showed up at all. She felt stupid for thinking that he'd wait for her, and when Pattipaws felt stupid she often got angry. That was why she was walking home, crying hot tears of resentment towards him, the Javanese, and toms in general.
The Pollicle stopped its fierce quest for food as it felt the whiff of the approaching cat. It poked its spotted head out of the garbage can and stared at her, as if it couldn't believe its luck. Pattipaws saw it now. It was a large Dalmatian, its black-and-white coat dirty and dull. It was completely emaciated and seemed to react solely on a sense of self-preservation. With a summoning of its last strength, it lunged at her. Pattipaws screamed.
The Rumpus Cat had never run so fast. He didn't even remember running, just that he had been around 150 feet away from Pattipaws and the Pollicle at one moment and in between them the next. He felt the fur on his head stand up, and he hissed at the Pollicle as he pushed it away.
"Sod off!"
It growled and lunged again. The smell that came from its open mouth almost knocked the hero to the ground, and it threw him off balance for just a second. It was all the Pollicle needed. It held the Rumpus Cat down for a moment, leaping over him and going for Pattipaws again.
She fought back, he had to give her that. Her teeth were bared and her claws unsheathed, and she bit and scratched for all she was worth. At first the Pollicle looked as if it was going to back down, but then it was reminded of its hunger, and tried again. It pinned Pattipaws to the ground and suddenly its teeth were very close to her neck...
The Rumpus Cat snarled and attacked, throwing the Pollicle off balance. Cat and dog rolled like a giant wheel of claws, fur and teeth. Fortunately for the Jellicle, the Pollicle was so exhausted from hunger that it couldn't put up a fight.
Fortunately for the Pollicle, though, was that it was not just a stray. It was a part of a small pack, an extension of the Pug tribe that had been banished from their original home and set out into the world on their own. Packs like that rarely survived without their tribe, not just because they had difficulties finding food, but also because they were outlaws among the dog community. Anyone was allowed to kill them.
However, this pack did not intend to die out. They were weakened and had lost four members already, but they were still six of them left, and every single one of them had heard the noise of the fight in the alley and come to look. At first they stared at the Rumpus Cat, not believing that a cat could possibly have any chance in battle against a dog, no matter how weak the dog was. Then, when the Rumpus Cat had delivered a particularly nasty cut that made the Dalmatian whine and back away, they understood that it was possible.
All at once, they went for the Rumpus Cat and Pattipaws.
"Patti! Run!"
The young queen gasped and hesitated. She didn't know this strange tom who'd come to her aid, but there was something about him that... that was familiar. She didn't want to leave him behind. Hungry dogs would do anything to get food. She took a few doubting steps to leave, but at that moment a Pollicle managed to get in a hit, and the hero staggered backwards.
"No!"
Pattipaws jumped forward, furiously scratching the face, the body, the legs, the everything of the attacker. He was surprised at first, but quickly brushed her aside. She yelped as she fell to the ground, and screamed when the other Pollicles turned towards her. With a great effort the Rumpus Cat fought his way through the Pollicles to get to her, to help her, before it was too late. He fought, desperately, in the despairing hope of saving his sister before she was lost.
As long as she was screaming, things were all right. At least then he knew she was still alive. When she stopped screaming, that was the time he would worry. He pushed and shoved and tore and snarled, and the Pollicles began to tire. With a last, final blow the Rumpus Cat managed to get them away from Pattipaws.
She had stopped screaming.
Everlasting Cat, she had stopped screaming.
She lay flat on her back, her eyes wide and frightened. She didn't move. She didn't do anything. She was just lying there. Rumpus Cat felt like he was going to faint, but he bent over her to see how she was.
"Patti?"
She was bleeding. At least one dog had gotten close enough to bite her in the shoulder, and the wound gaped large and scarlet red. It was pumping out blood at an alarming speed, staining the pavement. She was still breathing, quick, shallow breaths that couldn't possibly sustain her for long. Her eyes moved, frantically searching for something to give comfort, when there was no comfort to get. They fell on the Rumpus Cat, who had never felt more helpless in his life.
"Patti," he murmured, hoping that he with his voice could keep her alive for just one more moment.
Just a day more. Just an hour more. Just a minute more. If he could keep her alive for one more minute, she would make it completely. She would be well. She would get up from the dirty ground and laugh and be his big sister again, if he could just...
Pattipaws's eyes mirrored all the pain and terror in the world, and he couldn't make it go away. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was failing her. The look on her face asked a question.
Pouncival answered it. He closed his eyes, allowing the darkness of his fur fade out into white and brown. When he opened his eyes again, they were yellow instead of a fierce red.
"Hi," he said softly.
Pattipaws exhaled deeply. "Oh..." she managed to get out.
She smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was the only thing she could give him to thank him for trying. Her eyes were slowly losing their spark. She was disappearing. But she was smiling.
"Goodnight," she mouthed at him.
The blood was gushing slower from her wound now, and Pouncival felt sick as he saw how much of it was on the ground. His paws were covered in it, and he was fighting the urge to lick it off. Pattipaws's head had lulled to the side, and her eyes were closed. A few gurgling breaths went through her body... and she was gone.
Pouncival was not aware of anything but the fact. Pattipaws was dead. She. Was. Dead. His entire being was fulfilled with this fact, until his mind was incapable of forming anything else but those three words. His grief completely took him over. With it came anger, a roaring wave of heat and blood that coloured his eyes red and his fur black again. He felt the R mark burn on his chest.
The Rumpus Cat got to his feet, slowly. He was breathing calmly. He was completely composed. His sister was lying dead on the ground, her blood making a dark red pool underneath her, and the one who had killed her was now running down the street with his teeth coloured by the blood. The Rumpus Cat could smell it. His mind was completely focused on this little bit of information.
He started to run. He was dimly aware that the blood on his paws made scarlet prints of the stones, but he paid no attention to it. It was unimportant. What was important was that the murderer was still at large, and that he must die. The Rumpus Cat would see to that.
He saw the murderer clearly. It was limping down the street, already injured. Good. That was good. I must have done it myself, thought the Rumpus Cat rationally. During battle. That was how it happened.
The murderer was a gangly old thing, skinny and weakened, or it would never have considered eating a cat. It had picked up the scent of the creature following it, and it was trying to pick up the pace, although there was little it could do with a failing leg.
The Rumpus Cat attacked. He was still calm. Every blow landed perfectly, he fought with a determination of inflicting as much damage and pain as possible. He heard the murderer whine something, maybe a plead for mercy, but the Rumpus Cat did not have any to spare. His claws tore up deep cuts in the murderer's face, he was the angel of death, and he kept hitting and clawing long after the murderer had stopped trying to fight back.
Tears had started making their way down his cheeks without him knowing how they got there. He wiped them off irritably. They were in the way. They were pointless too, because everything would be fine as long as the murderer was dead. Pattipaws would come back then, alive and healthy, and he would take her back to the junkyard, and things would be fine when the murderer was gone. So there was no point in crying, because Pattipaws was not really dead, and...
But she had been lying awfully still.
She was not dead. She was the big sister, and she could not be dead. He was a hero, and he was supposed to protect her, and that was what he was doing right now. He was protecting her, and everybody else. He had not failed. He could not fail. He had all this strength, and it was supposed to make things better.
But she had not been breathing.
She was tired.
But the wound...
It will heal. I'll get Jenny and Jelly, and they'll heal it.
But she is dead.
She's not...
She is dead.
Pouncival stopped. He just stopped. He stood there, beside the mutilated body of the murderer, of the dog, staring at a point far away from the present. His mind felt blissfully empty. He stood blinking for a moment, trying not to think, because things were easier when you didn't think about them. There was one thought that he could not push away though. It was picking at his subconscious, trying to get out. An image made itself known. A young Jellicle queen, her dark fur stained and knotted together, and a gaping wound that still oozed blood...
It hit him again and again, like a battering ram.
'I failed.'
Pouncival ran away from the body of the Pollicle. He didn't get very far, for his legs buckled and wouldn't obey, so he staggered to the ground, and vomited until he was completely empty.
