Prologue:
A storm was brewing the night she wandered into the Junkyard. Tired, exhausted, and almost passed out from hunger, it was the silver tabby who found her, curled up in a tiny space of shelter beneath a single piece of cardboard. Her coat was stained with mud, and slime, and grease, and other things the tom couldn't distinguish, and as he watched, she raised her head, mewing once. A plea for help.
The alarm rang out over the junkyard, waking kittens and rising queens, but it was the toms who, as usual, arrived on the scene. The rain was coming down heavily as they approached the silver tabby, who turned back to look at them, his eyes bright in the darkness, reflecting the falling water.
No word was said that night, none exchanged between the group of toms gathered. The queen lay between them before she was lifted gently up, into the arms of the silver tabby and the black and white one. They started to carry her off, as gently as they could, her body shivering weakly in the arms and she faintly showed signs of struggling. Calming words were whispered to her as they gently moved her away from the spot where she'd sheltered, but her struggles only seemed to increase.
It was the last cat to arrive who noticed why. His spotted fur had turned dark from the rain, and his usually silky main was stuck to his forehead, water running down it and over his face like tears. He was the last to leave that spot, having stopped for a moment to look around, shaking his head to get the rain out of his eyes. And it was him who heard it. The tiny, faint sound of mewing.
His steps were cautious as he followed the sound, further into the tiny alcove where the queen had lain. The cry was whining, desperate almost, but as he got closer it changed to hissing. A fierce, determined little hiss which made the tom pause. Then, gingerly, half afraid, half simply cautious, he used a paw to bat away the last sodden piece of card.
Glaring at him, with fierce little eyes, one leg caught up in a tiny piece of string, was a tiger-striped kitten. He looked behind him, opening his mouth to call for the others before realising they'd gone. They'd taken the queen, and left. The queen who had been so determined to get back to her kit. He raised a paw in the direction of the kit, and was fairly surprised when the kit snarled, batting it away fiercer than he'd expected. It glared at him defiantly, as if daring him to do that again.
A son of the tribe's matriarch was never one to back down from a dare.
Without really thinking, the tom leant forward, gingerly, carefully, and picked up the kitten by the scruff of its neck. Carrying it aloft in his jaws, the tom back slowly out of the tiny crevice, and looked back in the direction the other toms had gone. He started to follow, the little bundle writhing and squealing in his mouth, and the rain falling down his face even faster, making him shiver to the bone.
There was a crowd outside Jenny's by the time he arrive, all whispering and murmuring amongst themselves. Over the sound of them, and the paring rain, he could distinguish the sounds of the queen, the mother, inside, mewing forcefully. The little bundle in his mouth started writhing even more, and squealing loudly, making the cats on the outskirts of the group turn. They stopped talking, and stared at him.
He didn't have to say anything. He couldn't even if he wanted to – little tiger was writhing even more uncontrollably now, but the cats didn't need telling. They cleared to the sides without a sound to let him through, unable to take their eyes off him. Off what he was doing. The first sign of resistance came when he first tried to enter the den, through the door where silver and checked stood either side of, keeping guard. She was forceful, harsh even, but then fell as silent as the others as she saw the kitten in his mouth. Without a word, the nurse of the tribe stepped to one side, letting him enter.
Then den was warm, and cosy – a nice change to the freezing rain outside. The queen was still dirty, and still mewing, writhing on the little bed by the side. She didn't seem to notice his approach, just kept clawing around, and scrabbling for something she couldn't see. Even the kitten had fallen silent now, and the carrier made his way towards her. Standing beside the bed, he looked down at the matted fur, the bloody scratch marks, and the wide, smoky white eyes. Then he bent his head, resting his precious bundle beside her face, and backed away.
It took a moment for her to realise. But when she did, her writhing stopped. Instantly, she was all over the kit, who was squealing happily in return, licking his face as if her life depended on it. The sound of purring filled the space as he backed away, and turned to the exit, nodding once at the nurse as he passed. The sea of cats outside watched him as he made his way back through them into the rain. He'd done what he'd come to do. He could go now.
Behind him, he faintly heard the voice of the nurse soothing the queen, amongst the happy mewings of the kit he'd carried through the rain. Then the sound of the strange queen was heard, floating on the air as walked away. It tickled his mane, and he shook his head, dislodging the stuck hair from his forehead, and heard it.
"Who...who found him? Tell me...who?"
The rain seemed to become even louder as it drummed on the sheets of metal lying scattered around in the piles of clutter. Then the nurses' voice broke through it, as soft as it usually was when tending to someone.
"That...that was one of our toms, sweetheart. That was Tugger."
And the curious cat couldn't help but smile as he slipped away into the darkness.
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