Thistle entered the junkyard, her eyes instantly adjusting to the different light. Out in the open the sun was setting and there was a soft glow that had fallen over the clearing. But in the junkyard the light was dimmer, the cold was already slinking in tendrils through out the garbage. Thistle’s fur was fine but it still kept the warmth in.
She followed more then just a few paces behind the other cats. Thistle tried to tell herself that she was just being paranoid but the feeling of danger just didn’t leave. It was disconcerting and Thistle was worried. The feeling wasn’t aimed precisely at her, but at everyone, everyone who would journey within this junkyard tonight. And that scared her more then anything else did.
And she just couldn’t leave. There weren’t many Jellical cats that would be able to protect themselves from what she sensed. She’d have to stay, or live hating herself for the rest of her life. And she wasn’t prepared for that.
She paused again to sniff the air but it didn’t help, the overwhelming smell of garbage clouded everything else. That was another danger, for she wasn’t able to smell what was coming. She’d have to be on her guard all night.
Thistle turned her eyes back to the other cats in time to see two young ones both come bounding out of a pile of rubbish. One, the larger of the two, was pure white with a simple black band around her neck. The second was smaller and much more petite. Her colouring was a dark brown splashed with golds and reds and her collar was spiked like Demeter’s and Bombalurina’s. And neither of them Thistle knew.
They were both young, obviously both just coming out of kittenhood and still playfully cute. The white cat turned her crystal clear blue eyes on Thistle and the other followed suit, her eyes an arresting hazel. They both looked at her with open curiosity but none of the hostility that their elders did. The white one, the most inquisitive of the two, moved forward.
Thistle watched her but didn’t make a move to counter her, neither moving forwards nor backwards. The young cat stopped and cocked her head to the side in surprise, as if she smelled something familiar.
"Victoria!" Bombalurina barked and the white cat turned her head towards her. "Keep away from her, she’s not worth the trouble she causes."
Thistle smiled with delight, bowing dramatically to Bombalurina. "Of course I’m not worth it."
Mistoffelees rolled his eyes, ducking nimbly out of Demeter’s and Bombalurina’s arms. "Come on Thistle, you have much right to be here as everyone else."
Thistle chuckled but she still paused, sniffing the air again. Still nothing. Mistoffelees followed her example, lifting his small nose toward the rapidly dimming sky. His eyes clouded in confusion and he looked to her. He could smell the danger too. But the others were already making their way to the center of the junkyard and they had no other choice but to follow.
Many of the other cats were already grouping.
Thistle reconised a lot of them. Munkustrap was with a group of cats, one being the black and white spotted Alonzo. A few kittens were dotted around the edges, watching Rum Tug Tugger with delight.
The spark of danger was there but it was almost over run with the memories of this place that filled Thistle. The thought that she did not belong was still fresh in her mind. She stayed at the edges, even at Mistoffelees urging. She wasn’t ready for this, she didn’t want to be here.
"Thistle?" She lifted her eyes and found herself staring into the surprised brown eyes of Skimbleshanks the Railway Train Cat. His coat was a mixture splotted gold and light brown fur, covered with an old dark brown vest. His whiskers twitched in surprise.
Sighing, the decision made for her, she smiled up at Skimble, pouncing up to the pole that he was perched upon. "Thistlewait?" Her smiled grew and he returned it, rubbing his nose against hers in greeting. "I missed you."
She let him rub his head down her neck in his brotherly gesture and she placed her cheek against his soft fur, closing her eyes. He smelt clean and slightly of lavender. Suddenly she felt at home. This was what she had missed, what had brought her back from her roaming. She reluctantly pulled back.
Skimble stared at the small cat. She was still as beautiful as she had been when they had first met, but though she hadn’t gained in height she seemed to have grown stronger. Maybe it had something to do with the cold glint in her eyes…
"Hey everyone," he called and Thistle’s head snapped back and forth as he spoke, looking to the other cats. "Thistle’s back."
Thistle watched as the others looked to Skimble and she straightened under their surprised gazes. She was going to stay and wait this out, even if she didn’t think she belonged. And she still had to get to the bottom of that feeling that they were in some kind of danger.
Munkustrap lifted his head and his grey eyes caught and held hers. He had been pleasantly surprised when he had heard she was here earlier that mourning, but he hadn’t been sure if she’d turn up to the Jellical Ball. She was the same old cat, she hadn’t grown an inch. He had a feeling that everyone who had known her was thinking the very same thing. Carefully he moved toward her, stopping just beneath the pole she was on. She followed him with her eyes, but wasn’t sure what she was to do.
Skimble helped her out, prodding her with his noes. She landed gracefully on the ground but kept her eyes firmly planted there, refusing to look him in the eye. How he must hate her, how they all must hate her-
Then his face pressed his forehead to hers, causing her eyes to stare into his. He was purring. Her eyes widened in surprise, as he closed his and rubbed his noes lovingly against hers. He wasn’t telling her to leave, he wasn’t attacking her, and he wasn’t even glaring at her, as she knew both Demeter and Bombalurina would be. He was excepting her back into the tribe.
She pulled back in alarm, staring him in the face. She then let her gaze run over the faces of all the other cats. They were not filled with hatred as she thought they would be, but with surprise and curiosity. It scared her.
"What a touching reunion," the voice was cold, drawled honeyliy but slightly amused. Thistle lifted her eyes to where the voice had come from. The cat was large and sat on the hood of one of the many cars. He was completely black but his eyes were an exotic gold and they stared lazily back at her. He was lean, beautiful and his coat was kept clean and shinning. "Pity I have to break it up."
As if some unknown bell had rung there was a collective bark and three large dogs dashed into the junkyard. Thistle didn’t give herself time to be surprised or alarmed, she simply acted. She caught one of the young kittens by the scruff of the neck and herded the others through a small pipe, one in which the dogs wouldn’t be able to get their noes’ through. She turned back in time to see one of the dogs heading for Mr Mistoffelees.
Mistoffelees had been no where near the entrance and yet they came for him. Thistle cried out in alarm but neither she nor he reacted fast enough. He was flying though the air, a small cry of surprise passing his lips. His head connected with a lead pipe with a sickening thud. He fell, tumbling unmoving to the ground. Thistle could not see if he was breathing or not.
White-hot anger raced through her, filled her very soul. It was the fury that she had only ever released once, to Bombalurina. It was the kind of anger that she never showed if she could help it. But now the very thought of Mistoffelees lying there filled her with such rage that she couldn’t make a single rational thought. Her mouth opened and she let out a bone-crunching hiss, her eyes glowing bright in anger. All sound in the junkyard stopped.
But then the laughter started. It was a soft purr, hauntingly beautiful and infuriatingly perfect. The hairs of Thistle’s back stood on end and she turned from Mistoffelees to the laughing cat. He dropped from his place on the hood, landing gracefully and padding toward her.
"I think that’s enough for now," he purred, addressing the dogs. They stopped their movement obediently but when one of the cats who were still in the junkyard tried to move they would growl warningly. There was no way for them to leave, even if they wanted to, which they did. The black cat walked around Thistle, looking her over appreciatively. He liked what he saw. "I heard you’d arrived, I have been following your movements for a while."
Thistle didn’t notice his slinking grace, if she had her mind in check she would have noticed his shimmering coat and earth shattering beauty. But she only envisioned ripping his throat out. "I’ve been looking forward to finally meeting the explosive Thistlewait that I’ve heard so much about." He looked down at her with hungry golden eyes, "you’re just the kind of cat I’m looking for."
Her green eyes smoldered and she looked at him through heavy lashes. "What makes you think I’d ever join with you?" she hissed.
He smiled suddenly, his eyes sparkling. He bent close to her ears so only she would hear him speak, "because if you don’t, I won’t just hurt one, I’ll kill them all." He stood up straight, winking at her, "think it over, you can call me Scatter Cat, for want of a better name. Come on boys." And then both he and the dogs were gone…