Note: "Talking in Spanish"
This applies throughout the story.

It was late on a warm summer's evening in the heart of London. All was quiet in the street where a tom kitten lay sleeping, unaware of his parents' arguing close by.

"We are going back to Spain."

"What? You can't be serious!"

"I am quite serious. We are going back," the queen said to her mate coolly.

"Why? Why do you want to go back to the place that we have finally gotten away from?" he demanded incredulously. "You agreed to live here with me. You said that London was a better place for us."

"Yes, and since then I've changed my mind," she replied.

"You agreed to come here so that our children could live well. And in case you've forgotten, we have a kit now," he added. "So why would you want to leave? You've always said you wanted to get away from your family, always," he repeated.

She looked away from him as she answered. "Again, I've changed my mind. I've changed my views on my family. I miss my sisters, and my father. I do not like it here very much either way, whatever I might have thought about this country when you brought me here."

"What about our son?" he pressed. "Surely he deserves better. I do not even know if he would survive the trip, and even if he did, your family is bad. They're criminals, for Bast's sake! How could you expect our son to grow up with that? Are you that cruel?" he finished, glaring at her.

"I am not that cruel," she answered. "Our son will not be coming with us."

Ignoring his protests, she got to her feet and started to pace in front of the skip they had taken residence beside.

"Here's my plan," she said. "There is a train station near to here with a train that goes to a port – the same port we entered this country by. As you know, there are boats that leave there for Spain and France regularly. We are getting on one of those boats in a week, and our son will not be with us." As he opened his mouth to protest, she continued. "Like you said, our families are not the best cats for him to grow up with. So he won't." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

"Two weeks ago, I was talking to this queen, I forget her name. She said that she used to live in a junkyard on the other side of town. She said that there were no bad cats there, and that everyone there was very welcoming and civilised. She mention that she had some personal issues with some members of that tribe, and that is why she left, but it got me thinking. What better place for our child to grow up than among the very sorts of cats we came here to be among? She said that she had a son, older than ours, she said, but still…I expect there will be others…" she trailed off. "Anyway, he is going to live there. And you are going to take him," she concluded.

He got to his feet and started to pace opposite her as he said, "You wish me to take our son there. To take him and leave him among strangers. They won't understand him, he won't understand them!" he shouted, turning and pointing at her. "How do you expect him to cope, or to be happy?" he asked.

"He's a smart kit," was the curt response. "He'll learn. And doubtless, he'll be far happier there than he would ever be with my family. You know that just as well as I do."

He contemplated her steely resolve, unmovable. He knew which side he had to take, knew also that he would live to regret it.

"Fine. You win," he spat. "When?"

"Tonight," she responded coolly. "I'll get him now. The queen said the junkyard was near another railway station…she mentioned a street…Victoria Grove, I think it was," she said slowly. "Yes, that was it. You'll make it in a few days if you can go quickly. I'll meet you by the station near here in a week, and our son will not be with you. Understood?"

As he nodded his consent, and she moved away, kneeling down to wake their son, he couldn't help but wonder at her, and at himself, and how they could be as heartless as he now knew they were.

Two days later, and the tom found himself outside the junkyard his mate had described. It was just beginning to get dark, and the tom considered leaving his dozing son there and then. But his conscience took over. The kit would never survive, not out here.

He slipped into the junkyard, and took the first side pathway he saw. There wasn't much point in raising awkward questions with the residents of the place, he felt, but he knew that they had to find his child. So he made his way further into the junkyard, looking for any sign of a den. Twice he had to hide, and wait in silence, as the paths he had taken were in turn walked by the junkyard's inhabitants. A couple of them seemed to have noticed his scent, and one even looked in his direction, but he was thankful that none of them acted on it.

It grew darker the more he searched, but at last he found an area where there were several dens clustered together. Good. He'll be safe here. He laid his son down, and shook him a little, trying to wake him. Better to let him know now that he was just being left here. Left without his family, left with cats who he did not know. Who could easily cast him back onto the streets. I shouldn't be doing this.

"Papa?" the kit asked, drawing the older tom from his thoughts. "Where are we?"

"This –" he faltered. "This is your new home. You won't know any of the cats here, but I'm sure they'll be good to you, and you must be good to them too. Alright?"

"Where's Madre?" the kitten asked.

"Madre…isn't here. She's not coming," he answered slowly.

"But you're staying. Aren't you, Papa?"

He took a shaky breath. "No, my son. I…I have to go. I have to go now. And you have to stay here." As the kit looked at him, puzzled, still not fully comprehending what was going on, he leant down, rubbed his head against the kit's, and whispered, "Goodbye, my son."

The kit stared up at him as he straightened, turned around, and silently made his way back the way he had come. He could hear his son calling out to him, but he pressed on. He couldn't go back. Not now. Not ever.

The kitten stared after his father's retreating figure, expecting his father to turn around, and return to him, and take him back home.

"Papa? Papa, where are you going?" the little patched tom called. His father did not look back. "Papa? Papa! Where are you going? Please don't leave me here, I'm scared!" the kitten cried. "Papa! Papa. Come back …"

As the cat disappeared into the night, however, it started to become glaringly obvious to the kit that his father had left him. That he was alone. As this realisation hit him, he stopped calling, and started to sob, with no one there to listen to him expect the quiet wind blowing through the junkyard, and an old tom making his way back to his den from the theatre.

It had been a long day, and Gus was feeling very much like going straight to his den and falling asleep as soon as was possible. In fact, he was very nearly about to accomplish that, when a quiet, choking sobbing started to sound near him.

He sighed. Another lost kitten? Really, when will they learn to stay in the clearing until they grow up enough not to lose their way? And why is it still out here? Surely someone should have found it by now… Still, a lost kitten was a lost kitten, and he felt obliged to find it, comfort it, and take it to its home. And then he would finally be able to return to his den.

He turned the corner, making his way towards the sound, all the while fighting to keep his eyes open. He steeled himself for the onslaught of distraught kitten that was sure to come, so it was a shock to him when he rounded a junk pile and came face to face with a kitten that was seemingly unaware of his presence, and, strangely, that he did not recognise.

Gus was one of the older cats in the junkyard, and he wasn't there a lot of the time, that was true, but he had always taken it upon himself to learn who each new generation of kittens was. And this small, patched tom was a kitten he had never seen before. How odd.

"Young one?" he called, causing the kitten to snap its head up at him and fall backwards a little. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I scare you?" he asked, crouching down to better see the kitten. "Are you alright?"

The kitten nodded. He was trembling a little, Gus noticed.

"Are your parents here?" A shake of the head was his answer.

"Would you like to come to my den?" he asked gently. "You can go to sleep there, and it'll be warmer than sleeping out here."

The kitten nodded, and got to his feet, following Gus without making a sound. It was a good thing, Gus thought, that his den was so close to where the kitten had been – left? Abandoned, even? – because the kitten looked about as tired as he was. As they reached the entrance of his den, a thought occurred to him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The kitten's eyes widened, and his breathing quickened. Gus was about to take his question back, when the kitten swallowed, opened his mouth, and spoke for the first time since Gus had found him, in a light, accented voice.

"My n-name – my name is Alonzo."

Author's note

Chapter One. Finally. It's been a while in coming, for which I apologise. HOWEVER - it is here now. So yes.

I do not trust Google Translate very much, so you shall just have to put up with a lot of italics. And make the distinction when emphasised words appear in this way as well. Here's my hint: if the entire sentence is in italics, it'll probably have just been said by Alonzo. Capesh? Good.

Next update: Soon. Before Sunday, probably.

~JemmiVoice