Jellicle Sunset.

Pouncival's thoughts as Macavity takes over….as this is my first fic, I'd be much obliged if you read, reviewed, and offered constructive criticism….and this is dedicated to Fantasia the Crazy, without whom, I would not know my own inner craziness!

Disclaimer: I am a girl. Therefore, I cannot be Andrew Lloyd Webber, T.S. Elliot, or the great Sir Elton John, whose brilliant ideas I am stealing for the purpose of your entertainment.

Pouncival's Journal Entry #1

Hi. I'm Pouncival. I'll be recording the important events of the war, for you. Whoever you happen to be. First a little background. I have a mate, Etcetera, and she is pregnant with our first kit. We, as Jellicles, have always been enemies with a ginger tom named Macavity. Recently, he'd been gathering more and more magical cats to his cause. I mean, it's not that we don't have some, but he suddenly had a lot more mages on his side than we did. He began moving against us more and more, and that's where my story begins......

For me, it began on a morning much like any other. I was asleep, as was normal for me. In many ways, I was still a kitten, naïve enough to believe that the war would not affect me and my small family. Alonzo came into my den, quietly enough, but I was a light sleeper, and it woke me up. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and was noticeably grieving, though what, I couldn't tell, just yet. "Al? What's the matter?"

"Pounce," He sighed heavily. "Munkustrap's dead. He was murdered by Macavity." His face showed a fire I had hardly dared believe possible in any tom. As for myself, I think I might have been in shock. Looking back, I find myself thinking of a song my owners used to play all the time.

As I awoke this evening with the smell of wood-smoke clinging,

Like a gentle cobweb hanging, upon a painted tepee.

Oh, I went to see my chieftain with my war lance and my woman,

For he told us that the Yellow Moon would very soon be leaving.

"This I can't believe," I said, "I can't believe our warlord's dead.

He would not leave the chosen ones to the buzzards and the soldier's guns."

I suppose I said something, because Alonzo sat down next to me, the defeat in his eyes more depressing than anything I had ever seen. "We'll work through this, won't we, Al?" My voice was choked with impending tears. We were Jellicles; feline, fearless, faithful and true….we couldn't let something as simple as a death defeat the whole tribe.

"I don't know, kid. I don't know." Alonzo had to be troubled to call me by the pet name he hadn't used since we were kits. He didn't believe we would work through it, but I knew. I knew even then that we would be able to survive, but only if we worked together, not as simply a tribe, but as one.

Oh great father of the Iroquois, ever since I was young,

I've read the writing of the smoke, and breastfed on the sound of drums.

Oh, I've learned to hurl the tomahawk, and ride a painted pony wild,

To run the gauntlet of the Sioux, and make our chieftain's daughter mine.

And now you ask that I should watch the red man's race be slowly crushed.

What kind of words are these to hear from Yellow Dog, whom white men fear?