Can You Hear the Stars Singing?
Prelogue: Beginnings
Listen. Can you hear it? Magic. Can you see it? A night as black as a witch's cape, with the moon hanging gracefully at the throat. The stars winked down brightly on the junkyard, singing silent songs to any who might be awake.
A faint crackling noise reached the ears a large male Jellicle cat. Munkustrap stirred and opened an eye. There. He heard it again. His gaze slowly swept the area, until his eyes came to rest upon another's. Two bright green eyes stared back at him. He could see nothing else.
Slowly, the eyes began to move. They came forward a little, so that Munkustrap could just barely see the silhouette of the face they belonged to. A small, white, flawless five-pointed star gleamed eerily in between those eyes. Munkustrap shivered but came closer to the face. The eyes grew wider, but nodded, beckoning. Come closer, they seemed to say. Closer. Closer. Munkustrap was frightened to find that he seemed to have lost the ability to disobey; he could do nothing but follow the commands of the mysterious voice in his head. Finally, he seemed to be face-to-face to the pair of eyes. They looked into his own eyes, and suddenly, a grateful look came into them, and it seemed to bless him. Then they vanished.
Munkustrap, besides being amazed, could not help feeling that he was here for something. He began to search the area, and it was not long before he found it: a small kitten, female, dark gray with a splotch of white on her chest. She seemed no more than three days old.
Munkustrap heard movement near the car trunk where he stood. He could just make out the outline of a small black cat patrolling the area. He always was the nocturnal sort, Munkustrap thought to himself, and then called out, "Mistoffolees?"
"That's me," came the cheerful reply. He materialized in full form out of the darkness. "What's up?"
"This is," Munkustrap replied, gently lifting the kitten. "What do you think?"
"It looks," Mistoffolees said quietly, "it looks like someone I used to know." Munkustrap nodded, and Mistoffolees continued. "But that's impossible. He only left three weeks ago. Where did you find her?"
Munkustrap explained the whole thing.
"Hmmm..." Mistoffolees said when Munkustrap had finished. "It sounds awfully supernatural to me. And I would know." They were silent for a moment. "Well," Mistoffolees said finally, startling his brother, "we can't just leave the poor thing to die. She'll need a name, not to mention a family." Another pause. "Demeter just had a kitten, didn't she? You can take Samara in."
"Samara, huh?" Munkustrap smiled. "Okay, I guess it'll work. For the time being, anyway." And so it did. For the time being, anyway...
Part One: Samara
Samara grew up to be a pretty kitten, with glossy, silver fur and a cheerful disposition. She was always lighthearted, and could make her 'brother' Airmek laugh no matter how unhappy he was. Her favorite 'relative' was Mistoffolees, who she loved even more than Munkustrap. This bothered her when she grew older, for she felt that you really ought to love your father more than your uncle. Although she was a rather intelligent kitten, she was never told of her true origin.
Her favorite activity was walking along the edge of the junkyard, wondering what might be out there. Munkustrap often told Samara and Airmek stories about great battles against Pekes, which excited her very much. Her favorite was the one about Sam, mainly because Mistoffolees convinced Munkustrap that the female cats could help. This added greatly to Mistoffolees' already high rating in Samara's book. She told Munkustrap once that she wanted to fight the Pekes someday, but he only laughed.
This made Samara rather angry. Why did it matter? But, being a sweet sort of kitten, she didn't argue. Instead, she took manners into her own paws, and went to practice playing it rough by an oak tree near the junkyard whenever she could.
Airmek was the only one who knew about it, and he only did so by accident. He had just been practicing patrolling himself, and was wandering along pointlessly when he spotted Samara scratching a tree with an unusual sort of vehemence. "What's the matter," he joked, and Samara jumped at the sound of his voice. "Did the tree sneak up on you?" He stopped laughing when she didn't join in. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Samara turned around, studying Airmek through slitted eyes. He was a handsome kitten, with black stripes on a golden brown coat and a long, muscular body. But if she told him what she was doing, what would he do? She decided to risk it. "I was practicing," she said, "fighting."
Airmek stared. "What? Fighting? Females don't fight."
Samara glared at him. "Says who?"
"Says us males."
"What about the time Uncle Mistoffolees convinced Dad that the females could help fight if they wanted to? Four did, and they were a big help in the end."
"Well, they were desperate." Airmek looked at Samara. He had never seen her so determined. She was a strong willed cat, and when she made up her mind... And yet, she fascinated him like nothing he had known before. "Why do you want to fight?"
"I don't want a war to start or something," Samara explained. "But if there was one, I'd rather fight and feel like I was helping than just sit uselessly at home."
"Well, I suppose that makes sense," Airmek said slowly. "But what you could do? You can't fight. You don't attack trees out there."
"I haven't exactly got anyone to practice on." She grinned and came closer. "How 'bout you?"
"Thanks, but I'd rather not get pathetic jabs from mere girls," Airmek stabbed.
"You could teach me," retorted Samara, indignant.
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Because if you don't, I'll attack you as soon as I learn how." She was joking now.
"Well... All right. But what'll I teach you?"
"About fighting. Attacking, and strategy, and all that kind of stuff." Samara grinned. "I guess I must admit that simply clawing a tree won't teach me much."
Airmek was skeptical. "Okay," he said. "In fact, starting now. We'll start with your claws. You've got to wield them almost like a sword and a shield at the same time. You see..." Airmek worked with Samara for the rest of the day.
In the end, Airmek taught Samara almost every day, and then whenever there was a chance. Airmek actually began looking forward to what he had thought would be a tedious task, for Samara was a pretty and intelligent kitten. Samara learned whatever Munkustrap was currently teaching Airmek, and the fact that both Airmek and Samara often made mistakes made them closer.
Still, Airmek didn't like the fact that all along he was teaching Samara to fight, and that fighting was fun. Samara seriously thought that fighting would be fun. Airmek, being a week older, was that much wiser on that account. He tried to tell her this, but she simply laughed and said she didn't think it would be fun, just exciting. To Airmek, this was no better.
One day Samara got her secret wish. Quaxo and Admetus came bounding into the junkyard one day yelling for Munkustrap, who immediately came out to see what the trouble was. Samara and Airmek followed, curious. Both cats were panting like anything, and had to fight to catch their breath. "What is it?" Munkustrap inquired. "Pekes?"
"Not that bad," gasped Quaxo.
"Poms," Admetus said, a little calmer.
Samara looked at Airmek with shining eyes. Airmek inwardly groaned.
I won't bore you with all the major details of the Poms. All you need to know is that Quaxo and Admetus saw them near the ruins of the Peke's Palace, a place that used to be occupied by none other than the Pekes but were driven away by the Jellicles. Apparently, they were there to "clean up." Well, you can't have dogs so very near the junkyard, Pekes, Poms, or Bernese Mountain Dog; it doesn't matter. So they were going to perform a sort of battle-re-enactment. In other words, they were going to drive the Poms away from the area, and hopefully that'd be the end of it.
Airmek could see the expression on Samara's face. This fight wasn't going to be much, since Pom's weren't really much into fighting, but it would be a fight just the same. He decided to go see Mistoffolees. He'd tell Airmek what to do without getting mad at him.
Mistoffolees, though he would be fighting, too, was currently sitting in the drainpipe, playing with his daughter Mictora. "Uncle Mistoffolees? Can I talk to you a moment?" Airmek asked timidly.
"Sure. Follow me," Mistoffolees told him. Airmek did so. Mistoffolees led him almost straight to the place where Airmek had been training Samara. Airmek tried to keep his face innocent, but he couldn't help wondering if it was just a coincidence, or Mistoffolees' every-once-and-a-while-annoying magical powers.
They sat down under Samara's 'Clawing Tree.' "Well," Mistoffolees said, "What's the trouble?" Airmek explained the entire thing. Mistoffolees gave Airmek a long, inquisitive stare.
"What? Why are you staring at me like that?" Airmek said.
Mistoffolees didn't answer. "You said she got the whole fighting idea from that story about her fa- I mean, Sam, and when I let the females fight? Well then, it's just as much my fault as yours, isn't it? The I'll have to help you."
"You'll help me stop her?"
"No. Why would I do that? Why would you teach her if you don't want her to fight? I'm surprised you even agreed to teach her at all. One day, maybe two, but I didn't think you'd keep going." Mistoffolees gave another long, hard stare. Then he cleared his throat. "Actually, I don't think we'll really need to do much. Just keep her back long enough so that she can have a good look at the fighting. Then let her join in."
"Join in?" Airmek cried. "She'll just kill herself!" Another stare. "She's my - sister," he said in a strange tone of voice. Sometimes I think he's too darn smart, Airmek thought to himself.
"No, she won't," Mistoffolees said reassuringly, but there was a strange, almost knowing expression on his face. "Poms'll be nice and tired, and it'll be a good learning experience for her." He began again before Airmek could say anything else. "She should at least know how to defend herself, and this'll be perfect. Now, go before Munkustrap starts to look for you. And me." Airmek scurried off, but Mistoffolees stood under the tree for a long time after he had left.
The Jellicle didn't use much caution when approaching the Peke's Palace. Poms were known cowards, and if they made enough noise coming, they might knock the fight out of them with no trouble at all. They didn't even bother to send a scout, but leaped over the wall in a colorful tide and flooded the entire area. There were only five or six Poms there, and the Jellicles just sort of smothered them.
Samara was toward the back of the pack. She had hesitated, watching the others, seeing what they did. She spotted Airmek, attacking the biggest Pom. The great dog merely reached out his paw and picked him up by the neck, strangling him. Samara knew the Pom wouldn't be merciful. She acted on impulse and flung herself forward, towards the Pom. He didn't see her, but Airmek did. He managed to fling a paw into its face. This enabled Samara to knock the dog down. Airmek wriggled free, and the two scratched his eyes out before he could run away. They fight was pretty much over now.
Samara sank to the ground, pulling Airmek with her. They curled up together and fell asleep.
Part Two: A Night Like This
Samara awoke first. She looked at Airmek and thought for a moment. She was his sister. He was her brother. And yet... It's not at all unusual to love your brother. But Samara suddenly realized she loved him in a different way. A way brothers and sisters couldn't love each other.
Airmek stirred and opened his eyes. Samara looked back it him. They each knew what had happened over the course of a single month. Airmek sat up, his eyes sad. "We can't," he sad regretfully. "It's too close. I don't understand it..."
Samara shook her head. "I don't either. Nature protects you against it."
"Maybe... I'd better leave." Without waiting for an answer, he scurried away.
Samara sighed. She knew what Airmek meant by leaving. He was leaving the tribe, not like Grizabella had done, but on some pretense, like tracking Pekes or finding new tribes. She saw Airmek talking to Munkustrap. She saw him go, jumping over the wall to parts unknown. He wouldn't even return to the junkyard. Samara sighed again, and started for home.
Later that week, Samara sat in her tree, still thinking about what had happened. Brother and sisters in... Wait a minute. Brothers and sisters? Samara thought for a moment. She pictured Munkustrap in her head. She pictured Demeter and Airmek. She looked nothing like them. Her coat wasn't even the same shade of gray as Munkustrap's. And then there was the simple fact that she and Airmek had fallen in love... Like she had said, brothers and sisters didn't do that.
She thought about these things for a while. She formulated a theory, but she needed to test it out. For those who wanted answers, they could only go to Mistoffolees, the smartest cat in the junkyard. He'd tell Samara the truth. She spun around and nearly jumped out of her skin, for suddenly she was face-face-to-face with...
"Uncle Mistoffolees!" Samara cried. "Don't do that, will you?"
"But you wanted to talk to me," Mistoffolees said, grinning impishly.
"I won't even ask you," Samara said, "how you knew."
Mistoffolees grinned harder. "Well?"
"Well..." Samara said, and then stopped. What if she was wrong? What would he think? But Samara was not the type to dwell on such things, but instead risked it all in one blow. "Uncle Misto, am I not Munkustrap's kitten?"
The grin left Mistoffolees' face as quickly as one of his lightning bolts. He leapt higher up the tree, and Samara followed. They had a perfect view of the nearby lake now. Night was falling, and the first stars were beginning to appear in the sky.
They looked at those stars for a moment. They blinked and twinkled in the growing blackness of the sky. Mistoffolees turned to Samara. He took a deep breath. "Can you hear the stars singing?" he said. His white face glowed in the starry light. "No, you are not Munkustrap's blood kitten. It was a night like this that we found you. Munkustrap told me what happened. A pair of eyes appeared, and beckoned for him to follow. They disappeared, and he found you in their place."
Samara sucked in her breath. It was all coming together.
Mistoffolees continued. "Munkustrap called me, and I convinced him to keep you. We pretended you were part of Airmek's litter." Samara's heart beat louder at the sound of his name. "And so you were raised as brother and sister." He paused. "But that relationship has changed."
"Yes," Samara said, "yes, it has, and now I understand why. Uncle Misto, will you..."
"Samara!" Munkustrap called from the junkyard.
"Don't tell him." Mistoffolees' words were urgent. "Don't let on you know."
"But who are my real parents? Do you know?"
"Well..." Mistoffolees said reluctantly. "I don't know for sure, but you look an awful lot like Sam..."
Samara nodded and trotted off towards the total stranger she had once called her father.
Meanwhile, Airmek was thinking his own thoughts. Munkustrap had only let him go when Airmek had said he wanted to track the Poms a little while. All he had to do was stay out long enough for Samara to find... er, new interests.
He sighed. Samara... He thought of her. Her bright green eyes and unique gray fur, so different from his own... different from his own... different from his own...
He sat up. What had Mistoffolees said when he asked him to help keep Samara from fighting? "... from that story about her fa-..." He had been about to say 'father.' But that story wasn't about Munkustrap. It was about Sam. Sam was Samara's father? Of course! It all made sense now. Mistoffolees and Sam had been best friends, so naturally he'd be great friends with Sam's daughter. Best of all, Samara wasn't related to him... He couldn't wait to get back!
"Slow down a moment, Airmek," he told himself. "Better stay out here a couple more days, until Dad'll be satisfied I watched the darned Poms long enough." He settled down happily, calm for the first time in days.
Unfortunately, Samara was starting to have some slight problems.
She had gone as quickly as she could when Munkustrap had called her, her face carefully masked. "Oh, there you are, Samara!" he said, smiling. "I'd like to introduce you to someone." He turned to a handsome tan cat with white stripes and a bored sort of smile. "This is Romerall. His father is an ambassador from another tribe. Rom, this is my daughter, Samara."
Samara, eager to get away, bobbed a quick curtsy, said, "Hello, sir," and turned around to look for Skimble.
"Samara," Munkustrap said in an ever-so-slightly warning tone. "Why don't you show Romerall around? I need to talk to Rammerhed." He walked off with another cat.
Samara sighed inwardly but tried not to show it. Rom seemed relatively polite, although he had a rather snobbish air. He said thing such as 'by your leave' and other royal sorts of phrases, and struck Samara as the sort who got his way all the time, no questions asked. She led him around the junkyard, speaking only when she had to. When she was finished, Romerall leaned forward and licked her on the nose. Samara jumped, and her eyes narrowed. She backed away. She saw it all now... oh, she saw it quite plainly! This was a set up... But she belonged to Airmek.
"Well," Rom said lazily, completely oblivious to Samara's expression, "I suppose we'd better get back, eh?" He turned and walked away, and Samara didn't follow. She was going insane, with all this confusion.
Maybe reading would clear her mind. She saw a giant book laying nearby. With some effort, she lift the cover and skipped through the first couple pages. Then she saw it. The answer to all her problems. It was a large book, but she managed to get it home to her room. She studied the passage again. Yes, that would do it... Mistoffolees might have it, but he'd never give it to her. He'd probably think it was too dangerous. But who else could she get it from? The next name that came to mind nearly scared her into abandoning her plan. But no, she'd go through with it. She'd get it from... Macavity.
Part Three: This Close
Samara squared her shoulders and raised her paw. Then she lowered it. Knock on Macavity's door? What was she, crazy? Yes. She raised her paw again. She knocked. The sound resonated around the area. The door opened a tiny crack.
Macavity's faced twisted into a sneer. "A kitten," he said. "A kitten has come here with her own free will. Well now, Miss..."
"Samara."
"Well now, Miss Samara, what can I do for you?" His voice was coy and syrupy. It made Samara sick. She swallowed.
"I have read of a poison, sir," she began, without even coming in the door, "that does not really kill you but merely makes it feel like your pulse has stopped. Do you have anything like that?"
"Hmmm... I believe I do... Come in, come in!" He swung the door wide. Samara had no desire to come in, but did so anyway.
Inside, it was too dark to see. The soft moaning sounds of rats filled the air, and Samara shivered.
"What's the matter? Not fond of rats?" Macavity said, grinning wickedly. Samara didn't answer.
He turned around and reached up to a barely visable shelf. He pulled off a bottle. "This, I dare say, is what you are looking for." He suddenly became animated, and pushed Samara out the door. "Results are not guaranteed, but if not perfectly satisfied, your wasted life will be refunded," Macavity said in a breathless voice. Her shoved Samara out the door and slammed it behind her.
"Well!" Samara said, clutching the bottle. "That was odd!" Then she made off toward her room. Once inside, she removed the stopper from the bottle. The room filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent. Samara raised the bottle to her lips. She threw her head back, and drank.
The room suddenly became dark, and Samara began to feel sleepy. She tumbled onto the bed and fell asleep.
Airmek was cheerful as he began his journey on the way back home. Samara was waiting for him, no doubt. The air was crisp and cold. Airmek spotted a face in one of the windows. It disappeared, and out came a brown and white cat. "Tumblebrutus!" he cried happily.
Tumblebrutus looked at him. His eyes were wide and sad. "You haven't heard," he said decidedly.
"Heard what?" Airmek said, his nostrils beginning to flair.
"Samara..." Tumblebrutus said, his voice trailing off.
Airmek felt his blood turn cold. "What about Samara?"
"She's dead," Tumblebrutus said. "She found out that she was to marry an ambassador's son, and was found dead the next day. There was a strange bottle in her hand, and we think she poisoned herself. She..."
Tumblebrutus stopped. Airmek had disappeared.
Airmek spoke to no one when he reached the junkyard. There was no one to speak to. Everyone seemed to have disappeared. He entered her bedroom. Samara lay unmoving on a ile of blankets. A large tan cat with white stripes knelt beside the bed. He looked up when he heard Airmek come in.
"Ah," he said, "you are the brother, are you not? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Romerall, son of the ambassador who..."
He didn't finish his sentence. Airmek leapt upon him, clawing and biting. "You killed her!" he cried. "You killed her! You killed her..." Romerall had no chance against such strong hatred and rage. He was soon dead.
Airmek turned back to Samara. She looked almost alive, laying there. A flame of hope ignited in his mind. He felt for a pulse. There was none. The flame flickered for a moment, and then puffed out.
There was no life for Airmek without Samara. He extended a claw. "I shall be joining you, shortly," he whispered to Samara. He dug his claw into his heart. He staggered a moment, inviting the pain. He took one last look at Samara and fell, slumped over.
The sound of his body hitting the ground roused Samara from her dreamless, poison-induced sleep. She saw Airmek lying beside her, and rushed to embrace him. She stopped when he didn't move. She turned him over, and took in the long, gaping wound that blood still slowly trickled from. She cried out in grief and despair. "What have I done?" she screamed. "What have I done?"
She, too, clawed herself to death. Her blood poured from the open wound, and she slumped over, falling on top of Airmek, as she would have wanted it. Samara's blood mixed with Airmek's, and as one they began their long journey to the Heaviside Layer.
Mistoffolees entered the room to see Samara. He gaped at the sight that met his eyes. Then he shook his head, trying to rid himself of his emotions. A large book caught his eyes. It stood on the nightstand, which seemed to buckle under its weight. The book was open. Mistoffolees read the title at the top of the page: "Romeo and Juliet."
Mistoffolees closed the book and went home.
Prelogue: Beginnings
Listen. Can you hear it? Magic. Can you see it? A night as black as a witch's cape, with the moon hanging gracefully at the throat. The stars winked down brightly on the junkyard, singing silent songs to any who might be awake.
A faint crackling noise reached the ears a large male Jellicle cat. Munkustrap stirred and opened an eye. There. He heard it again. His gaze slowly swept the area, until his eyes came to rest upon another's. Two bright green eyes stared back at him. He could see nothing else.
Slowly, the eyes began to move. They came forward a little, so that Munkustrap could just barely see the silhouette of the face they belonged to. A small, white, flawless five-pointed star gleamed eerily in between those eyes. Munkustrap shivered but came closer to the face. The eyes grew wider, but nodded, beckoning. Come closer, they seemed to say. Closer. Closer. Munkustrap was frightened to find that he seemed to have lost the ability to disobey; he could do nothing but follow the commands of the mysterious voice in his head. Finally, he seemed to be face-to-face to the pair of eyes. They looked into his own eyes, and suddenly, a grateful look came into them, and it seemed to bless him. Then they vanished.
Munkustrap, besides being amazed, could not help feeling that he was here for something. He began to search the area, and it was not long before he found it: a small kitten, female, dark gray with a splotch of white on her chest. She seemed no more than three days old.
Munkustrap heard movement near the car trunk where he stood. He could just make out the outline of a small black cat patrolling the area. He always was the nocturnal sort, Munkustrap thought to himself, and then called out, "Mistoffolees?"
"That's me," came the cheerful reply. He materialized in full form out of the darkness. "What's up?"
"This is," Munkustrap replied, gently lifting the kitten. "What do you think?"
"It looks," Mistoffolees said quietly, "it looks like someone I used to know." Munkustrap nodded, and Mistoffolees continued. "But that's impossible. He only left three weeks ago. Where did you find her?"
Munkustrap explained the whole thing.
"Hmmm..." Mistoffolees said when Munkustrap had finished. "It sounds awfully supernatural to me. And I would know." They were silent for a moment. "Well," Mistoffolees said finally, startling his brother, "we can't just leave the poor thing to die. She'll need a name, not to mention a family." Another pause. "Demeter just had a kitten, didn't she? You can take Samara in."
"Samara, huh?" Munkustrap smiled. "Okay, I guess it'll work. For the time being, anyway." And so it did. For the time being, anyway...
Part One: Samara
Samara grew up to be a pretty kitten, with glossy, silver fur and a cheerful disposition. She was always lighthearted, and could make her 'brother' Airmek laugh no matter how unhappy he was. Her favorite 'relative' was Mistoffolees, who she loved even more than Munkustrap. This bothered her when she grew older, for she felt that you really ought to love your father more than your uncle. Although she was a rather intelligent kitten, she was never told of her true origin.
Her favorite activity was walking along the edge of the junkyard, wondering what might be out there. Munkustrap often told Samara and Airmek stories about great battles against Pekes, which excited her very much. Her favorite was the one about Sam, mainly because Mistoffolees convinced Munkustrap that the female cats could help. This added greatly to Mistoffolees' already high rating in Samara's book. She told Munkustrap once that she wanted to fight the Pekes someday, but he only laughed.
This made Samara rather angry. Why did it matter? But, being a sweet sort of kitten, she didn't argue. Instead, she took manners into her own paws, and went to practice playing it rough by an oak tree near the junkyard whenever she could.
Airmek was the only one who knew about it, and he only did so by accident. He had just been practicing patrolling himself, and was wandering along pointlessly when he spotted Samara scratching a tree with an unusual sort of vehemence. "What's the matter," he joked, and Samara jumped at the sound of his voice. "Did the tree sneak up on you?" He stopped laughing when she didn't join in. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Samara turned around, studying Airmek through slitted eyes. He was a handsome kitten, with black stripes on a golden brown coat and a long, muscular body. But if she told him what she was doing, what would he do? She decided to risk it. "I was practicing," she said, "fighting."
Airmek stared. "What? Fighting? Females don't fight."
Samara glared at him. "Says who?"
"Says us males."
"What about the time Uncle Mistoffolees convinced Dad that the females could help fight if they wanted to? Four did, and they were a big help in the end."
"Well, they were desperate." Airmek looked at Samara. He had never seen her so determined. She was a strong willed cat, and when she made up her mind... And yet, she fascinated him like nothing he had known before. "Why do you want to fight?"
"I don't want a war to start or something," Samara explained. "But if there was one, I'd rather fight and feel like I was helping than just sit uselessly at home."
"Well, I suppose that makes sense," Airmek said slowly. "But what you could do? You can't fight. You don't attack trees out there."
"I haven't exactly got anyone to practice on." She grinned and came closer. "How 'bout you?"
"Thanks, but I'd rather not get pathetic jabs from mere girls," Airmek stabbed.
"You could teach me," retorted Samara, indignant.
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Because if you don't, I'll attack you as soon as I learn how." She was joking now.
"Well... All right. But what'll I teach you?"
"About fighting. Attacking, and strategy, and all that kind of stuff." Samara grinned. "I guess I must admit that simply clawing a tree won't teach me much."
Airmek was skeptical. "Okay," he said. "In fact, starting now. We'll start with your claws. You've got to wield them almost like a sword and a shield at the same time. You see..." Airmek worked with Samara for the rest of the day.
In the end, Airmek taught Samara almost every day, and then whenever there was a chance. Airmek actually began looking forward to what he had thought would be a tedious task, for Samara was a pretty and intelligent kitten. Samara learned whatever Munkustrap was currently teaching Airmek, and the fact that both Airmek and Samara often made mistakes made them closer.
Still, Airmek didn't like the fact that all along he was teaching Samara to fight, and that fighting was fun. Samara seriously thought that fighting would be fun. Airmek, being a week older, was that much wiser on that account. He tried to tell her this, but she simply laughed and said she didn't think it would be fun, just exciting. To Airmek, this was no better.
One day Samara got her secret wish. Quaxo and Admetus came bounding into the junkyard one day yelling for Munkustrap, who immediately came out to see what the trouble was. Samara and Airmek followed, curious. Both cats were panting like anything, and had to fight to catch their breath. "What is it?" Munkustrap inquired. "Pekes?"
"Not that bad," gasped Quaxo.
"Poms," Admetus said, a little calmer.
Samara looked at Airmek with shining eyes. Airmek inwardly groaned.
I won't bore you with all the major details of the Poms. All you need to know is that Quaxo and Admetus saw them near the ruins of the Peke's Palace, a place that used to be occupied by none other than the Pekes but were driven away by the Jellicles. Apparently, they were there to "clean up." Well, you can't have dogs so very near the junkyard, Pekes, Poms, or Bernese Mountain Dog; it doesn't matter. So they were going to perform a sort of battle-re-enactment. In other words, they were going to drive the Poms away from the area, and hopefully that'd be the end of it.
Airmek could see the expression on Samara's face. This fight wasn't going to be much, since Pom's weren't really much into fighting, but it would be a fight just the same. He decided to go see Mistoffolees. He'd tell Airmek what to do without getting mad at him.
Mistoffolees, though he would be fighting, too, was currently sitting in the drainpipe, playing with his daughter Mictora. "Uncle Mistoffolees? Can I talk to you a moment?" Airmek asked timidly.
"Sure. Follow me," Mistoffolees told him. Airmek did so. Mistoffolees led him almost straight to the place where Airmek had been training Samara. Airmek tried to keep his face innocent, but he couldn't help wondering if it was just a coincidence, or Mistoffolees' every-once-and-a-while-annoying magical powers.
They sat down under Samara's 'Clawing Tree.' "Well," Mistoffolees said, "What's the trouble?" Airmek explained the entire thing. Mistoffolees gave Airmek a long, inquisitive stare.
"What? Why are you staring at me like that?" Airmek said.
Mistoffolees didn't answer. "You said she got the whole fighting idea from that story about her fa- I mean, Sam, and when I let the females fight? Well then, it's just as much my fault as yours, isn't it? The I'll have to help you."
"You'll help me stop her?"
"No. Why would I do that? Why would you teach her if you don't want her to fight? I'm surprised you even agreed to teach her at all. One day, maybe two, but I didn't think you'd keep going." Mistoffolees gave another long, hard stare. Then he cleared his throat. "Actually, I don't think we'll really need to do much. Just keep her back long enough so that she can have a good look at the fighting. Then let her join in."
"Join in?" Airmek cried. "She'll just kill herself!" Another stare. "She's my - sister," he said in a strange tone of voice. Sometimes I think he's too darn smart, Airmek thought to himself.
"No, she won't," Mistoffolees said reassuringly, but there was a strange, almost knowing expression on his face. "Poms'll be nice and tired, and it'll be a good learning experience for her." He began again before Airmek could say anything else. "She should at least know how to defend herself, and this'll be perfect. Now, go before Munkustrap starts to look for you. And me." Airmek scurried off, but Mistoffolees stood under the tree for a long time after he had left.
The Jellicle didn't use much caution when approaching the Peke's Palace. Poms were known cowards, and if they made enough noise coming, they might knock the fight out of them with no trouble at all. They didn't even bother to send a scout, but leaped over the wall in a colorful tide and flooded the entire area. There were only five or six Poms there, and the Jellicles just sort of smothered them.
Samara was toward the back of the pack. She had hesitated, watching the others, seeing what they did. She spotted Airmek, attacking the biggest Pom. The great dog merely reached out his paw and picked him up by the neck, strangling him. Samara knew the Pom wouldn't be merciful. She acted on impulse and flung herself forward, towards the Pom. He didn't see her, but Airmek did. He managed to fling a paw into its face. This enabled Samara to knock the dog down. Airmek wriggled free, and the two scratched his eyes out before he could run away. They fight was pretty much over now.
Samara sank to the ground, pulling Airmek with her. They curled up together and fell asleep.
Part Two: A Night Like This
Samara awoke first. She looked at Airmek and thought for a moment. She was his sister. He was her brother. And yet... It's not at all unusual to love your brother. But Samara suddenly realized she loved him in a different way. A way brothers and sisters couldn't love each other.
Airmek stirred and opened his eyes. Samara looked back it him. They each knew what had happened over the course of a single month. Airmek sat up, his eyes sad. "We can't," he sad regretfully. "It's too close. I don't understand it..."
Samara shook her head. "I don't either. Nature protects you against it."
"Maybe... I'd better leave." Without waiting for an answer, he scurried away.
Samara sighed. She knew what Airmek meant by leaving. He was leaving the tribe, not like Grizabella had done, but on some pretense, like tracking Pekes or finding new tribes. She saw Airmek talking to Munkustrap. She saw him go, jumping over the wall to parts unknown. He wouldn't even return to the junkyard. Samara sighed again, and started for home.
Later that week, Samara sat in her tree, still thinking about what had happened. Brother and sisters in... Wait a minute. Brothers and sisters? Samara thought for a moment. She pictured Munkustrap in her head. She pictured Demeter and Airmek. She looked nothing like them. Her coat wasn't even the same shade of gray as Munkustrap's. And then there was the simple fact that she and Airmek had fallen in love... Like she had said, brothers and sisters didn't do that.
She thought about these things for a while. She formulated a theory, but she needed to test it out. For those who wanted answers, they could only go to Mistoffolees, the smartest cat in the junkyard. He'd tell Samara the truth. She spun around and nearly jumped out of her skin, for suddenly she was face-face-to-face with...
"Uncle Mistoffolees!" Samara cried. "Don't do that, will you?"
"But you wanted to talk to me," Mistoffolees said, grinning impishly.
"I won't even ask you," Samara said, "how you knew."
Mistoffolees grinned harder. "Well?"
"Well..." Samara said, and then stopped. What if she was wrong? What would he think? But Samara was not the type to dwell on such things, but instead risked it all in one blow. "Uncle Misto, am I not Munkustrap's kitten?"
The grin left Mistoffolees' face as quickly as one of his lightning bolts. He leapt higher up the tree, and Samara followed. They had a perfect view of the nearby lake now. Night was falling, and the first stars were beginning to appear in the sky.
They looked at those stars for a moment. They blinked and twinkled in the growing blackness of the sky. Mistoffolees turned to Samara. He took a deep breath. "Can you hear the stars singing?" he said. His white face glowed in the starry light. "No, you are not Munkustrap's blood kitten. It was a night like this that we found you. Munkustrap told me what happened. A pair of eyes appeared, and beckoned for him to follow. They disappeared, and he found you in their place."
Samara sucked in her breath. It was all coming together.
Mistoffolees continued. "Munkustrap called me, and I convinced him to keep you. We pretended you were part of Airmek's litter." Samara's heart beat louder at the sound of his name. "And so you were raised as brother and sister." He paused. "But that relationship has changed."
"Yes," Samara said, "yes, it has, and now I understand why. Uncle Misto, will you..."
"Samara!" Munkustrap called from the junkyard.
"Don't tell him." Mistoffolees' words were urgent. "Don't let on you know."
"But who are my real parents? Do you know?"
"Well..." Mistoffolees said reluctantly. "I don't know for sure, but you look an awful lot like Sam..."
Samara nodded and trotted off towards the total stranger she had once called her father.
Meanwhile, Airmek was thinking his own thoughts. Munkustrap had only let him go when Airmek had said he wanted to track the Poms a little while. All he had to do was stay out long enough for Samara to find... er, new interests.
He sighed. Samara... He thought of her. Her bright green eyes and unique gray fur, so different from his own... different from his own... different from his own...
He sat up. What had Mistoffolees said when he asked him to help keep Samara from fighting? "... from that story about her fa-..." He had been about to say 'father.' But that story wasn't about Munkustrap. It was about Sam. Sam was Samara's father? Of course! It all made sense now. Mistoffolees and Sam had been best friends, so naturally he'd be great friends with Sam's daughter. Best of all, Samara wasn't related to him... He couldn't wait to get back!
"Slow down a moment, Airmek," he told himself. "Better stay out here a couple more days, until Dad'll be satisfied I watched the darned Poms long enough." He settled down happily, calm for the first time in days.
Unfortunately, Samara was starting to have some slight problems.
She had gone as quickly as she could when Munkustrap had called her, her face carefully masked. "Oh, there you are, Samara!" he said, smiling. "I'd like to introduce you to someone." He turned to a handsome tan cat with white stripes and a bored sort of smile. "This is Romerall. His father is an ambassador from another tribe. Rom, this is my daughter, Samara."
Samara, eager to get away, bobbed a quick curtsy, said, "Hello, sir," and turned around to look for Skimble.
"Samara," Munkustrap said in an ever-so-slightly warning tone. "Why don't you show Romerall around? I need to talk to Rammerhed." He walked off with another cat.
Samara sighed inwardly but tried not to show it. Rom seemed relatively polite, although he had a rather snobbish air. He said thing such as 'by your leave' and other royal sorts of phrases, and struck Samara as the sort who got his way all the time, no questions asked. She led him around the junkyard, speaking only when she had to. When she was finished, Romerall leaned forward and licked her on the nose. Samara jumped, and her eyes narrowed. She backed away. She saw it all now... oh, she saw it quite plainly! This was a set up... But she belonged to Airmek.
"Well," Rom said lazily, completely oblivious to Samara's expression, "I suppose we'd better get back, eh?" He turned and walked away, and Samara didn't follow. She was going insane, with all this confusion.
Maybe reading would clear her mind. She saw a giant book laying nearby. With some effort, she lift the cover and skipped through the first couple pages. Then she saw it. The answer to all her problems. It was a large book, but she managed to get it home to her room. She studied the passage again. Yes, that would do it... Mistoffolees might have it, but he'd never give it to her. He'd probably think it was too dangerous. But who else could she get it from? The next name that came to mind nearly scared her into abandoning her plan. But no, she'd go through with it. She'd get it from... Macavity.
Part Three: This Close
Samara squared her shoulders and raised her paw. Then she lowered it. Knock on Macavity's door? What was she, crazy? Yes. She raised her paw again. She knocked. The sound resonated around the area. The door opened a tiny crack.
Macavity's faced twisted into a sneer. "A kitten," he said. "A kitten has come here with her own free will. Well now, Miss..."
"Samara."
"Well now, Miss Samara, what can I do for you?" His voice was coy and syrupy. It made Samara sick. She swallowed.
"I have read of a poison, sir," she began, without even coming in the door, "that does not really kill you but merely makes it feel like your pulse has stopped. Do you have anything like that?"
"Hmmm... I believe I do... Come in, come in!" He swung the door wide. Samara had no desire to come in, but did so anyway.
Inside, it was too dark to see. The soft moaning sounds of rats filled the air, and Samara shivered.
"What's the matter? Not fond of rats?" Macavity said, grinning wickedly. Samara didn't answer.
He turned around and reached up to a barely visable shelf. He pulled off a bottle. "This, I dare say, is what you are looking for." He suddenly became animated, and pushed Samara out the door. "Results are not guaranteed, but if not perfectly satisfied, your wasted life will be refunded," Macavity said in a breathless voice. Her shoved Samara out the door and slammed it behind her.
"Well!" Samara said, clutching the bottle. "That was odd!" Then she made off toward her room. Once inside, she removed the stopper from the bottle. The room filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent. Samara raised the bottle to her lips. She threw her head back, and drank.
The room suddenly became dark, and Samara began to feel sleepy. She tumbled onto the bed and fell asleep.
Airmek was cheerful as he began his journey on the way back home. Samara was waiting for him, no doubt. The air was crisp and cold. Airmek spotted a face in one of the windows. It disappeared, and out came a brown and white cat. "Tumblebrutus!" he cried happily.
Tumblebrutus looked at him. His eyes were wide and sad. "You haven't heard," he said decidedly.
"Heard what?" Airmek said, his nostrils beginning to flair.
"Samara..." Tumblebrutus said, his voice trailing off.
Airmek felt his blood turn cold. "What about Samara?"
"She's dead," Tumblebrutus said. "She found out that she was to marry an ambassador's son, and was found dead the next day. There was a strange bottle in her hand, and we think she poisoned herself. She..."
Tumblebrutus stopped. Airmek had disappeared.
Airmek spoke to no one when he reached the junkyard. There was no one to speak to. Everyone seemed to have disappeared. He entered her bedroom. Samara lay unmoving on a ile of blankets. A large tan cat with white stripes knelt beside the bed. He looked up when he heard Airmek come in.
"Ah," he said, "you are the brother, are you not? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Romerall, son of the ambassador who..."
He didn't finish his sentence. Airmek leapt upon him, clawing and biting. "You killed her!" he cried. "You killed her! You killed her..." Romerall had no chance against such strong hatred and rage. He was soon dead.
Airmek turned back to Samara. She looked almost alive, laying there. A flame of hope ignited in his mind. He felt for a pulse. There was none. The flame flickered for a moment, and then puffed out.
There was no life for Airmek without Samara. He extended a claw. "I shall be joining you, shortly," he whispered to Samara. He dug his claw into his heart. He staggered a moment, inviting the pain. He took one last look at Samara and fell, slumped over.
The sound of his body hitting the ground roused Samara from her dreamless, poison-induced sleep. She saw Airmek lying beside her, and rushed to embrace him. She stopped when he didn't move. She turned him over, and took in the long, gaping wound that blood still slowly trickled from. She cried out in grief and despair. "What have I done?" she screamed. "What have I done?"
She, too, clawed herself to death. Her blood poured from the open wound, and she slumped over, falling on top of Airmek, as she would have wanted it. Samara's blood mixed with Airmek's, and as one they began their long journey to the Heaviside Layer.
Mistoffolees entered the room to see Samara. He gaped at the sight that met his eyes. Then he shook his head, trying to rid himself of his emotions. A large book caught his eyes. It stood on the nightstand, which seemed to buckle under its weight. The book was open. Mistoffolees read the title at the top of the page: "Romeo and Juliet."
Mistoffolees closed the book and went home.