Author's Note:
This is a rewrite of an old story of mine by the same name on an account I no longer have access to.
The fear and trepidation hung around the Yard, thick, heavy and oppressive like the early morning fog that had rolled in. Some of the men had gone in search of Macavity, and the abducted Tribe members, but that was nearly five days ago. The cats who were left behind set about the grim task of rebuilding their homes, and piecing back together what they could of their shattered lives.
Some cats like Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were making do out of the kindness of others, their home utterly destroyed by the fire. The couple now picked through the remains, trying to rescue anything of sentiment or value. Skimbleshanks, one arm in a sling and his shattered ribs heavily braced helped them, wincing and breathing heavily from time to time but never complaining, and never giving up.
No one spoke, not in the whole Yard, a sickness of the heart having set in like a plague. Old Deuteronomy was dead, as was Gus the theater cat who had put up a vain fight in his grandchildren's defense, the Yard razed, queens, toms, and kits absconded with; to fall prey to any number of wicked crimes. Many filthy, vile, and unwanted images managed to work their way into the cats minds as they labored in the quiet, etching their brains with morbid and vulgar scenarios they would rather not be thinking about.
Jellylorum, the queen whose hands had not long ago buried her leader and then her father trembled with apprehension and a longing to hold her youngest kits as she helped pick through the charred remains of friends' lives. She was haggard and like the rest, having gone days without sleep save for the fitful bouts of dreamless unconsciousness that could scarcely be called slumber they all seemed to slip into from time to time. She was the first one to see them coming through the mists an obscure troupe of figures veiled by the haze.
With an inaudible gasp of hopeful surprise she stopped what she was doing, soot stained fingers flying to her mouth. Tumblebrutus, her eldest son, rushed to her side, his hands gripping her shoulders steadying the queen on her tired, unbalanced feet as her knees buckled, and legs gave way beneath her.
A nervous murmur ran through the crowd as they pulled closer to one another, seeking support and strength from their numbers. Made cynical by recent events no one was prepared to accept the trudging shapes as good fortune. With whispers of a second attack clashing against the wistful promise of returned love ones the shadowy silhouettes began to take on dimension and form. When the tension and apprehension had reached its electrifying climax Munkustrap his silvery tabby coat glistening in the cold autumn sunlight emerged into the Yard.
The men and stolen members stumbled their way in behind him, worn, and many bloodied, broken. With a tenuous thrill of relief parents, siblings, and children of those who had been robbed from them during the Jellilce's most sacred night rushed forward to claim them. All at once where silence had so reigned crying, laugher, and a calling of names rang out over the expanse. From seemingly no where blankets appeared falling upon the shoulders of the returned as family wrapped them in strong embraces, whispering their love and lamented for those who shied away or refused to partake in their homecoming.
Pouncival, his ears drooping, young body riddled with claw marks and his large expressive eyes wide with horror clung to his younger sister Etcetera. The pair shuffled forward with stiff guarded strides, eyeing their neighbors with suspicion. The pale furred female cradled a badly broken wrist, the limb swollen double its usual size, fingers a sickly shade of grey. When she spied her mother coming towards them the young tabby tore away from her brother in a frantic fit of tears and into Jellylorum's awaiting arms.
Holding fast to her daughter Jelly cried to the heavens with gratitude and joy, calling up to her father and lavishing the girl with affection even as she reached for Pounce. The boy flinched, backing away from his family.
"Mom, not now, please..." he said tearily, unable to meet her gaze. She hesitated, inching nearer, but the fur along his back rose slightly, a wild unruly shadow passing over his visage.
"Let's give him some space." Brutus, ever the rational son murmured to their mother helping her to rise. Jelly nodded, a sharp pain lancing through her heart at the rejection as she ushered her children towards home, struggling to balance with an Etcetera who refused to let go, and burdened with a lack of knowledge regarding the cruelties that had been wrought upon her two of her three children.
The dark coated Electra, shoved past the others in a frantic pelt to escape whatever terrors might be stalking just behind her and barreled into her father's awaiting arms begining to sob immediately, nosing at him, hands clinging, and wholly unable to find words for her joy or relief. Skimble ignoring his pain hugging his only child as tightly as his wounds would allow rejoicing in her safety and return. It struck him then as had never before how profoundly she looked like her mother who had passed with the other kits in birthing, and he knew then he would be lost without her. Kneeling in the ash and debris he smoothed a hand over her coat gently humming lullabies that hadn't crossed his lips in years.
Many older cats, like Cassandra, slunk away in silence, their wounds their own or shunned what mates they had that came seeking them. The abyssinian who had no one slipped off without much pageantry, her pride and beautiful face badly damaged by the ordeal struck for home quiet and alone.
Munkustrap who had led them all here watched the reunions happening about him with a grim sense of duty, obligation, and regret. Jennyanydots who'd patched up the disheveled cats that had stayed behind approached with a rag for the gash above his brow. With the blood dry and wound already closing, the tom waved her off with annoyance and aggravation as she began to tend to him.
"You will need to gather your medical supplies," he went on to explain evenly. "many of them are hurt, some seriously so." he said in a weary tone before holding himself a bit higher as the feeling of eyes washing over his form settled somewhere in the back of his consciousness. Knowing that the Tribe now looked to him for leadership and strength, giving orders he ruefully felt in that moment more comfortable and in control than he had since the attack.
Munkus's words of instruction were cut short, halted at sight of his number two shuffling past with the aid of a tree branch. Encumbered by a heavy limp the younger male's face was set with determination but still, the agony shown through.
"Alonzo," he called briefly, moving away from Jenny with a sigh. Approaching the black and white tom who bore a torn ear, his insides felt knotted. He had yet to have the opportunity speak to his second in command, not really, but finding the words was difficult, painful even.
"It wasn't your fault," he began, his attempt lame and seemingly half hearted, though his intentions were earnest and pure. "You couldn't have done anything more than you already did to protect the Tribe." the tabby pressed on, but his words were failing him miserably.
Alonzo, with tears standing in his stark grey eyes, and the red of blood staining his fur he glared up at his mentor silencing him at once. "If I had been stronger..." he choked on a voice that cracked. Squeezing shut his eyes and allowing the bitter tears of hate and contempt to flow freely the tom left the rest unspoken his tone bitter and full of remorse hanging in the air around them. Alonzo shook his head solemnly, taking the opportunity provided by a frantic Bombalurina to amble away.
Bleary eyed and trembling the red queen took her brother-in-law, and leader's hands in her own. "Tugger? Impetuoua?" she asked tone that was weak and faltering.
"Balurina," Munkustrap began sorrowfully his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach. Trying to find the right way to say what needed saying the kit's uncle let out a half stifled sob as the reality of it all sunk in. "Impetuoua-" he began again with a grimace. Reminding himself that he needed to be strong, for everyone Munkustrap still could not bring himself to bare her the news, swallowing a hard lump amber eyes flaring with pain and scarcely pent rage he forced himself to continue. "She's in a bad way, a really bad way."
Balurina's fur stood on end as her sister came to comfort her, neither a stranger to the Hidden Paw's sadistic and malicious nature. The two clung to one another muttering encouraging and comforting things Munkus knew would be of no help in a moment's time. His thoughts were sharply severed by a forlorn cry.
"Munkustrap!" came the torn voice from somewhere within the fog bank. Guilt washed over the striped cat who quickly rushed to aid Mistoffelees, neglected for a time with the commotion and chaos of the return.
The black and white stood defeated, legs quaking beneath him, the salty remains of long dried sorrow staining his fur. In his arms lay Exotica, the tattered remains of a human quilt making do for her improvised shroud. She, Mistoffelees' unofficiated intended and future mate, was already gone by the time they'd found where Macavity had taken the absconded members, an abandoned and dilapidated tenant building with broken out windows mold and leaf litter strewn inside. Her body twisted, limbs mangled Exotica had been discarded amongst a heap of rubbish with several other feline corpses of names and places unknown.
Munkustrap moved to help his youngest brother, the illegitimate child of his family, but the tom shook his head. "I'm taking her home." he stated, a tremor moving through him."Please," the youth said. "Just let me be alone."
Munkus watched him leave, exhaustion settling deep within his bones. He'd been Guardian for years accepting and living up to the responsibilities and expectations that came with the title, but being leader of the Jellicle Clan was far more difficult and taxing upon the soul than ever he could imagine, even more so now with such death and carnage looming over the Junkyard. Dazed and spiritually overcome he failed at first to register the cries of Bombalurina.
Turning in time he saw the ruddy queen stagger back relying on Demeter's strength to hold her aloft at the sight of her mate stepping into the clearing. Tugger was weathered, ears and tail held low, gaze focused only on his next footfall. He cradled an unmoving bundle protectivly in his arms, steadily flowing streams running down his face as he struggled and failed to hold himself together.
Munkustrap, hands clenched into fists remained where he was, shook with a consuming hatred and anguish as the queens made their way to the last of the stragglers. The dark leopard coated tom as he collapsed to the ground, burying his face in the bundle and wept freely.
"I'm going to kill him!" Tugger wailed lamentingly as he rocked back and forth. "I'm going to kill him!"
Secondary Author's Note:
The OC, Impetuoua's name is pronounced like the word impetuous if you dropped the S