(Disclaimer: I own not CATS. Cats owns me. Gambol Hall is of my creation. The Dejoun tribe is not. It is the creation of a friend that has been developed into a role-play that I frequent.)

(Note: Not all of my stories involve people err, Jellicles dying. Just most of them. –nodnod-)

Nine of Spades

Bleak. Rainy. Dead.

That was it; the junkyard was dead. It was the perfect way to describe it. Nothing was moving, nothing was breathing. Everyone had retreated into their warm cozy dens to be with their beloved ones. Rain had etched minute waterways into the junkyard. Boxes were soggy and garbage began to reek. More than usual, anyway. Above the stench was the scent of hot, wet concrete wafting in from the city. Everything cat-made in the junkyard was sagging, rotting, or rusting. It was the toll of winter, and it happened every year. The Everlasting Cat willed it to be so, and this tribe accepted his every will.

The tribe! Yes, that was why the white queen staggered up the mudslide of rubbish, staining her paws in the vile rivulets. She was hardly white anymore, though. Her journey began to show in her matted, dirt stained coat. Her yellow eyes were shut tight against the falling water, among other, less pleasant things. None of that matter to her anymore, though. She was almost to the tribe.

The unlucky watch cat was the first to spot her. At first, the queen on duty thought it was just her imagination playing tricks in her mind's eye. Then, as the ragged, battered cat drew herself closer, Demeter shrugged off the thick, coarse bit of fabric that had been keeping her warm and jumped off the last dry rock in the junkyard. She hovered a foot or so away from the unstable edge as the queen dragged herself up. It was fanciful, to say the least, and for a second Demeter feared she had not been getting quite enough sleep. Finally coming to her sense, she held out her paw for the muddy cat, which looked up at it in a sleepy fashion. Her eyes were wary as she took the black queen's paw and was hoisted up onto the solid ledge. She rolled over with the last of her might before falling asleep. Slightly shocked, Demeter peeked at the queen's face before bolting off to Gambol Hall.

The Hall was not particularly spectacular from the outside- it was just another compilation of junk that was slowly sliding toward the ground from the wear and tear of winter weather. Demeter, however, quickly found the entrance to the hall; an old discarded bit of drainpipe that opened out into the main clearing. In the winter, they used spare bits of cloth to block the entrance, keeping the warm inside. To Demeter, the heat was a welcome addition to her nighttime run. She blotted past the deserted mess hall to the nautilus-shell shaped staircase that lead to the dens. However, she ran straight past door after door, whether they were just blankets hanging on a frame or an old hinged bit of wood. She had to get to the bottom. As she traveled further the doors disappeared and became arches leading into the library, which spanned over five or six floors; she had never really cared to count. Finally, after what seemed like decades with the little queen back on the cliff, defenseless and asleep, she reached the last, smaller floor of the staircase. It was a little bit grander, with a carpet on the floor that someone wasteful had thrown away. Here, the important members of the tribe resided; herself, her mate Munkustrap, his two brothers, their mates, and his father, Old Deuteronomy. Out of breath and at the end of her own little journey, she burst through the doors of her den. Munkustrap looked up from cleaning the small smoke vent and immediately forgot the duty to embrace his mate. She, between deep breaths, told him of the little queen back on the watch cliff.

It seemed only moments to Demeter before she, her mate and his brothers were at the cliff, nothing like the long journey down. Much to her relief, the queen was still there. She had woken up and still looked rather dead, but had very much made herself at home underneath the spare bit of cloth she herself had been hiding under only minutes ago. The four of them exchanged quick glances, and Alonzo was the first to approach her. He edge forward carefully to her, and she made no sign of resistance as he picked her up.

"I think… she's in shock." He said, looking down at the listless queen in his arms. "Come on, let's get back to the Hall. Jenny will know what to do." He suggested, nodding toward the drainpipe. The others agreed silently. The walk back to the hall was a quiet one.

The white queen's ears were ringing loudly. She thought she might have heard voices conversing somewhere, but she was not sure to whom they belonged. The cold was getting to her; she was soaked to the bone. Then something happened. One moment, she was laying there on the freezing rock with the soaked cloth wrapped around her, and then the next thing she knew the strong arms of a tom closed around her. She did not recognize his scent and thought briefly of trying to resist, but could not summon the energy. As she went limp, she heard the voices again. Going back somewhere, knowing what to do. It was all very vague. Then, everything was black.

"She passed out." Alonzo commented quietly as they slipped into Gambol Hall again. "She's heavy." He further complained. His brothers sighed in annoyance and Munkustrap offered his arms to carry her. Alonzo gladly deposited her there and raced ahead to wake Jenny.

"She is heavy." Munkustrap said in slight shock. Demeter looked at him quizzically. "I can't think of a reason, though."

"She's soaked." Demeter pointed out, as if it were obvious.

"Oh, yeah. Cats don't get this wet very often, I've never carried one." Demeter chuckled quietly, but then kept walking in silence.

"It's this door." She said as they reached Jenny's oven-den. She lifted the cloth to one side to let Munkustrap in.

"Thanks…" He muttered as he ducked into the tribe nurse's office and den.

"Oh dear, dear, dear…" Jenny fretted over the queen. Demeter and Munkustrap hung over either of Jenny's shoulders, trying to see what was wrong. "Demeter, be a dear and fetch me some dry cloth. Towels or hand cloths, if you can find any." Demeter nodded and blotted out the door and down to the library. The Gambol Library was not like a human library. It was much better than that. It held all the discarded items the Jellicles thought might ever be useful. It sorted them in a special system the Jellicles had created on their own. If ever a Jellicle need something, chances were it was in the Gambol Library. Demeter scurried through the rows, gathering all the little bits of cloth she could. Cloth was scarce during the winter as the Jellicles need to stay warm. However, due to the vastness and organization of the library, Demeter was able to find what she needed fairly quickly and was on her way back to Jenny soon enough.

That night was a long one, even after the queen had been safely delivered to Jenny and dried off. Demeter and Munkustrap returned to their own lair tired and wet. To make matters worse, they were unable to start a fire, for Munkustrap had never finished cleaning the vent. They curled up together on the pillow Demeter's mother had given her when she was young, licking each other dry. It was a long process, but in the end, they were warm, dry, and happy. By the time they fell asleep it was only a few hours until the morning alarm would sound.

That few hours of sleep hardly seemed enough as Demeter dragged herself out of bed to get ready for the day. Her movements were slow and listless until she remember the little white queens she had found only hours before. She finished grooming herself quickly and bid Munkustrap goodbye as she set out for Jenny's den. Much to her surprise, Alonzo and his mate Cassandra were already there. Alonzo greeted her with a crooked smile.

"Cassy couldn't wait to meet her, you know how she is with foreigners." He explained to her as she settled down. "We've been here most of the night and she's only just waking up." Demeter glanced over his shoulder at the oriental shorthair and the white queen, who was now actually white. They were chatting quietly. Demeter did not want to interrupt, but her curiosity got the better of her and she wandered over to them and sat down.

"Who's your friend, Cassy?" She asked with a kind smile. The brown queen smiled back as they exchanged a quick hug and began to explain.

"Her name is Iony, she's from another tribe. She say that-" But she was not given a chance to finish as the queen launched off into her own rendition of the story.

"Our tribe was sabotage'd. The old house we live in was burn' down by this ginga cat- nobody saw much of him, but those who saw him said that his head was domed and he had long whiske's, of which were uncombed."

"Macavity…" Demeter said thoughtfully, still listening carefully.

"Yes, vurry much so." Iony agreed, apparently having heard something different. "Well, anyway, after the house burn' down we were looking for anoth'a tribe to take us in, and this one tribe that lives at the ol' theata, The Dejoun Tribe, I think. Well, they didint have room to let us stay, but said that the Jellicle tribe migh'." She finished, rather bashfully.

"We do. Are you their leader?" Demeter asked her kindly.

"Oh, no, ma'am. I'm jus' the messenger." Demeter exchanged a look with Cassandra.

"You don't have to call me ma'am, Iony. I will speak with my leader, and if he agrees, you and your tribe may stay with us."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am." Iony said, the gratitude showing in her eyes. Demeter nodded goodbye to her and left with Cassandra.

"It's going to be a long week." She murmured. Cassandra agreed.

(A/N's Uhm, well. I had fun writing it Iony doesn't have a cockney accent, by the way. It sounds more southern, if you know what I mean. I don't know why her tribe has southern accents. Just go with it for awhile til I think of something. I'll update as soon as I can.)