A sleek black bullet emerged from the flap in the door of the cottage and sprinted down the garden path. It skidded to a halt by the gate before squeezing through a gap in the hedge and trotting along the silent pavement, sniffing the cool evening air. He paused at another gap in the hedge and sat down to wait, smoothing a patch of recently-washed fur. His mother would be angry that he had run off again while she was trying to wash him, but Taven could wash himself - and take care of himself. His mother thought otherwise, of course, but as Fin said, that was her job.
His thoughts turned to Fin: where was his best friend? He and Fin had always been together; the grey and white queen filled his earliest memories and often occupied his dreams too. He was dimly aware that one day they would be mates, in the same way that he was aware of his status as heir to the leadership of the Tribe.
His reverie was rudely interrupted as a loud crash sounded from behind him. Fin leapt from an open window and sped towards the hedge, her mother's cries of "Finfiriel! Get back here NOW!" following her down the path. Fin charged through the hedge and glanced back to the house.
"I wish she wouldn't call me that!" she said, shaking bits of leaf and twig from her fur.
"I think it's cute," teased Taven, batting at her ears.
"It's fussy, and sentimental and..... and downright silly! Why couldn't I have a normal name like...."
Taven grinned. "Like Gimilkhaz or Philomena or Rafke, you mean?"
“Hmph!", Fin snorted, "Point taken - and I suppose she only calls me that when she's mad at me."
"Which is always. And think of what the Family call you!"
Fin winced. "Ah yes: Socks" She glanced at her white paws before looking up and staring at Taven with amber eyes flecked with gold and sparkling with mischief.
He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a muffled "Ooof!" as Fin pounced on him and bounded away. Taven scrambled up again and raced after her. In his hurry he almost failed to notice the young white Persian queen who stepped out in front of him, leaping back with an indignant screech as Taven rocketed past. He stopped with some difficulty and hurried back to apologise, inwardly groaning as he realised who it was: Countess Philomena de Gruschwalde, undoubtedly one of the most self-centred, snobbish and vain cats in the entire neighbourhood.
He fixed a large false smile on his face and prepared to humble himself. "I'm so sorry Philomena! I didn't see you there."
"Oh that's quite alright, although I must admit you did give me a frightful shock," she purred, blinking her baby-blue eyes alluringly, "Just where were you going in such a rush, anyway?" she enquired.
"Well, me and Fin were just playing - we weren't going anywhere really," replied Taven, anxious to get away from Philomena as soon as possible.
Philomena sniffed disdainfully at the mention of Fin. "Well, if you stay with That you certainly won't go anywhere! Honestly - she is so common! She doesn't even wear a collar!"
Taven stared at the ornate collar Philomena wore: it was gold and was encrusted with glittering gems. In his opinion it was the epitome of bad taste. "I don't wear a collar either." he reminded her.
"No," she said, momentarily taken aback, "but your family has power so it's allowed. Her family, on the other hand, are a bunch of mangy alley cats and...", she lowered her voice to a barely audible hiss, "...she doesn't even know who her father is! Do you know what everyone calls her when she's not around?"
The verbal attack was interrupted by a low chuckling as Fin came strolling back around the corner. "Well then, Fluffy. What exactly do they call me? Come on - you can tell me, surely. I am, after all, only a humble alley cat!"
Philomena glanced around, desperately seeking for a way to escape the situation. She found nothing but cool dislike in the eyes of Taven, and only mocking amusement in the eyes of Fin. She attempted to change the subject: "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you know."
Fin grinned at her. "That means it's low enough to use on you. Besides, it's the only kind of wit you understand." Philomena bristled with rage as Fin shot her final crushing remark: "You would almost be insulting if you weren't quite so stupid, Fluffy."
Fin set off again, closely followed by Taven, who briefly glanced back at the enraged Persian to add his own comment: "So long... Fluffy!"
Philomena sat motionless, transfixed by her anger. She would not tolerate this sort of treatment by anyone - let alone Fin. The white Persian vowed to herself that she would make Fin rue the day she had ever been born. With cold, calculating fury in her eyes and a desire for vengeance in her heart, she stalked after the two kittens.
Fin paused to let Taven catch up with her, then the two young friends turned aside from the pavement and entered yet another well-tended and neat garden. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as each pondered the confrontation that had just taken place.
It was Fin who broke the silence first; turning to Taven with a worried and confused expression on her face. "I heard most of what Philomena said about me," she said, and then paused for a moment, "and I don't care what she thinks. But does everyone else in the Tribe feel the same?"
"No!" Taven answered emphatically, "She's just jealous of you, that's all."
"Not of me exactly - you know how she thinks she's better than everyone else because she's a pedigree cat. But I think she rather likes you, and that's why she hates me, Tav."
Taven looked embarrassed. "I don't think so." he said, shuffling his paws awkwardly and staring fixedly at the ground.
Fin grinned at him and continued mercilessly. "Oh yes - if she was your mate she would be so much more important around here. She could tell everyone what to do and they would have to do it. No doubt about it, Tav - she's got her eyes on you! Just think of the way she acts when you're around." Fin fluttered her eyes at Taven, tilted her head to one side, and flashed him a dazzling smile. She then proceeded to prance around him, nose in the air, imitating Philomena's walk. Within moments they were both laughing uncontrollably at the comic impersonation of the Countess, unaware that they were being watched.
Philomena's blue eyes observed them from a distance, at first brimming with tears of humiliation and shame as the young cats mocked her. Her eyes then narrowed to tiny slits as she channelled her feelings of hatred towards Fin, mentally mapping out her downfall and plotting her own rise to power and glory as a result.
