He remembered that day, looking into the expectant faces of his sons. Macavity, the eldest, stood slightly in front of Munkustrap, a smile curling on his lips.
But only his father recognized what that smile really meant.
It was a smile of cruel ambition.
The one flaw in an otherwise ideal Jellicle Leader, an inability to feel empathy.
And their father found he could not say the words he needed to. He could not entrust his tribe to his eldest son. He looked at them both standing before him, sadness in his old eyes, and he said nothing. Perhaps if he had said something, anything...
As he watched them grow from kittens into cats, he knew in his heart what must eventually come. Munkustrap would ascend to lead the tribe, and Macavity would not accept that decision.
There would be bloodshed...
