The Yard was alive with light and energy as the Jellicle Tribe of cats prepared, and made ready for their Ball. It was not only their most holy night, a night of reincarnation, but was also a time for joyous celebration and thanks giving. Etcetera bounced on her toes, watching eagerly from the window as her friends raced off in the waning twilight to where everyone was meant to gather in the coming hours.
Her closest friend Victoria, who had skirted her aunt's watchful gaze, hurried with graceful leaps and bounds after the older Plato whose ginger points were highlighted in the last gleaming rays of sunlight. The female kits made eye contact through the slightly warped glass, sharing a brief, excited wave. Etcy who continued to watch gave a laugh when the pursued tom turned unexpectedly and grabbed the white queen by the waist spinning and her through the air.
"Get away from there, you're grounded, remember?" Tumblebrutus called with a cool command from where he arranged the chair cushions.
Etcetera's joy for her friend, and hopeful pondering about sneaking out shattered, she turned to her eldest brother, "Tumble, couldn't I just go catch up with Vicky and-"
"No." the patched tom cut in decisively. "You and Victoria have caused enough trouble as it is, and we don't need anymore."
"But Plato's with her, he could watch us!" she went on persistently, desperate to a part of things rather than to be left behind in a house that felt suffocating, the grim reality of age and death brought to a vivid clarity in her grandfather's face. "I mean, he's your friend, you trust Plato right?"
The tom gave a laugh as he worked, "About as far as I can throw him, but the answer is still no."
Her fur raising and eyes alight the little queen turned on him, "Brute!" she shouted, a cruel nickname she and Pouncival had given him whenever they felt he was being mean or unfair.
"Yup," Tumble nodded sarcasm flaring. "That's me!"
Life had been fairly difficult on the family in recent months, with Gus' condition grim to say the least, in fighting broke out amongst his grandchildren almost daily. After he'd finished readying things and offering his sister a final hard look, Tumblebrutus walked down the short hall and into Gus' room. He wouldn't let on, but seeing the frail tom as he was frightened him. Even now as he rested eyes closed, breathing in soft shallow gasps it was easy to believe him already gone, a cold chill filling the room at the thought.
Tumble, who could remember a time before all of this, back when his mother was happy and his father was alive did everything he could to shoulder as much of the burden as possible. He'd been fully initiated two years ago, and should have been living on his own since, perhaps even finding a mate, but he'd stayed out of a sense of responsibility to his mother. Now, with this on top of it, he couldn't help but to feel embittered by the situation. Regardless, he was good at hiding it, but really, much of the time Tumble wished to be somewhere else, anywhere else, and living his own life without the need to care for others.
Damning himself with the particular self loathing which typically accompanied this type of altruism the tom slid his hands underneath his grandfather's slumbering form, and lifted. Tumblebrutus' stomach knotted almost immediately. More than the scent of stale urine he'd exposed by moving him, the fact that Gus hardly weighed anything anymore, feeling less like a cat and more like a bunch of sticks wrapped in a loose bundle of fur disturbed him greatly. Carrying the elderly feline to the living room his lack of response was beginning to get worrisome, when, without warning the grey cat jolted.
"Easy granddad, it's just me, Tumble." he assured looking into the confused, cloudy eyes that wondered up at him.
"Tumble?" Gus whispered his voice thin and distant, before there was a brief spark of recognition, and a smile to accompany it. Gus reached out a trembling hand and caressed the side of the youth's face lovingly.
After being settled into his seat near the fireplace Gus looked about himself, blinking in a particular way the kits now knew to mean that he was having trouble remembering or understanding something, but he seemed content enough and sat quietly for some time. It felt almost predestined that Gus would be chosen for the Layer this year, a thing his family sorely hoped for, as it was well apparent that this year was to be his final Ball. This was the fearful truth they'd lived with for two months now, and the possibility of reincarnation was the only light any could find at the end of the tunnel.
Disrupting the silence, save for the gentle crackle of the fire in its hearth Pouncival entered the living room, "How do I look?" he asked self consciously smoothing his fur, before his face fell in disappointment. "Where's mom?" he questioned Etcy who still lingered by the window.
"She needed some time to herself so I sent her on ahead." Tumblebrutus explained as he re-emerged with the soiled bedding. "You and Etcy are staying here with me and Gus until it's time."
Pouncival was crestfallen, "But I- She said-"
"She was crying Pounce!" Tumble snapped wishing his brother would just grow up already. "Think about it, she might lose her father tonight."
"Don't say that!" the boy barked angrily back.
"I know you!" Gus interrupted with a high, happy thrill after eyeing his youngest grandsons for several moments. "You're the new kid, gonna take over as Carbucketty aren't you?" The arguing died down immediately.
"Umm, yeah." Pouncival smiled afraid to contradict the reality the old cat currently inhabited.
"Well, you've certainly got your work cut out for you!" Gus laughed motioning the tom over. Quietly the kit sat on the floor beside him, head resting against the elder's good leg, relishing the little moments while he still could.
Etcetera ambled in with a disgruntled air then, intent on confronting her brother when Gus spotted her. "Helena, my best girl!" he beamed brightly. "How about you come give us a kiss, hm?" he asked with a wry grin.
Tumble turned just in time to see his sister's fur flare, "My name is Etcetera." she gritted out.
"Helena, baby?" the theater cat tried, patting his knee with a quizzical look. "Come, what's the matter?"
"I'm not grandma!" the little queen bellowed shoving her way passed Tumble, down the opposite hall and into her room where she slammed the door, her brothers calling angrily after her.
Gus seemed to stall, hands wringing together with concern, a perplexed almost fearful look to his eyes as he tried to piece together what 'Helena' had just said, his mind unable to connect events and times anymore. He came out of it when Tumble laid a hand on his shoulder. "She, she must be sore with me." Gus muttered looking up at him. "Hey, you look like a sharp young man, could you go and have a talk with her? Maybe, maybe explain to her that, that Bristol queen meant nothing to me?" he rasped.
"Sure thing." Brutus nodded, confused himself, and slightly uncomfortable with this knowledge, never having pictured his grandparents with anyone other than each other but wanting nothing more than for his grandfather to be happy tonight.
It wasn't long before peace was restored to the house, the trio in the living room settling in together an easy lull falling over them. Tumblebrutus stirred himself from the doze he had slipped into after a while and walked to where Pounce sat teary eyed staring into the embers.
"Hey," he said nudging the kit with the back of his hand. "Come here."
With some melancholy the patched tabby got up, sparing a glance to the chair's occupant, but Gus slept peacefully. "Yeah?" he grumbled refusing to follow all the way outside, opting instead to rest against the doorway, stars and fat moon radiant above the brothers as they lingered on the porch.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry, for yelling at you earlier." Tumble started. "This isn't easy on any of us, but it has to be Hell on you, I mean, this is supposed to be your special night, you're almost an adult now, and soon you'll be getting initiated, become a true Jellicle." The cat paused with a remorseful sigh. "And none of this seems fair does it?"
"No." Pounce whispered.
Tumble looped an arm around his sagging shoulders. "Are you nervous?" he questioned, Pouncival nodded. "I was too, you just have to remember that this dance, or song, or whatever it is you're planning to do, has to come from inside. This is your introduction to the Tribe, explaining to everyone who you are-"
"But everyone knows who I am!" the kit protested, cutting Brutus off.
"Yeah, but not like this." Tumble intoned a fond smile coming to play on his lips. "Don't worry though, it doesn't have to be perfect, it hardly ever is anyway. When I came of age I hadn't thought of a single thing to do or say when suddenly everyone was looking at me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, then Old Deuteronomy looked at me and smiled, and I dunno I felt better. Then, just for no reason at all really I just started racing around the clearing jumping, rolling, flipping, going crazy, it wasn't really much of a dance to tell you the truth, but it was me, one hundered percent, and when I was done, I was tired but alive." A reminiscent twinkle in his gaze the tom went on as he watched his brother's excitement grow. "Then everyone congratulated me, and Deuteronomy gave me his blessing, Tugger-" a laugh ripped itself loose. "Tugger was helpful enough to suggest an exorcism!"
"Really?" Pouncival gaped in disbelief.
"Really. So don't worry so much about what you're going to do, or how you look. Just be yourself and the Tribe will love you." Tumble assured looking at him with pride before pulling the lad into an embrace. "Just to be clear," he mumbled into the fur at the top of Pounce's head after a minute. "This right here is a man hug, nothing sissy about it, got that?"
Pouncival laughed pushing away. They could fight like no one would believe, but really, he couldn't imagine life without his big brother. "Got it." he agreed.
The wind shifted then, and the harsh, raw odor of smoke drifted passed Tumble's nose. "Do you smell that?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's just the fireplace."
"Uh-uh," a contemplative Tumblebrutus said shaking his head. Scaling up the side of the den the older cat scanned the horizon, and froze in terror, fur bristling. A harsh red-orange light flickered in the distance, wavering finger like tendrils reaching high as if the blaze meant to scorch the heavens themselves.
"What is it?" Pounce called up from where he stood on the porch.
It took Tumble a moment to respond, fixated on the eerily beautiful destruction he managed a half conscious response, "The Yard's on fire." Shaking himself firmly the tom leaped down. "The Yard's on fire!" he repeated with more urgency. "Stay here so you can get granddad out if you have to, I've got to go help." he instructed grabbing the boy by the shoulders and snapping what shock out of him he could.
The brown and white male had only just made it passed his house when Bombalurina opened her front door just down the road.
"Tumble, what's going on?" she yelled to be heard.
"Fire, big one!" he called in desperation as other cats rushed by in the direction of the blaze.
The queen hesitated only a moment before shouting to Pouncival, "Impetuoua is sleeping, send Etcy over." and taking to her heels.
Pouncival's heart roared in his ears as he turned numb with fright back into the house. "What's all the shouting about?" an irritated young queen snapped as she walked into the room. It took the tom a few moments to reply.
"There's a fire, Bombalurina needs you to watch the baby." he said summarizing everything and simply and bluntly as he could.
Etcetera who was still irate with the evening's outcome, and didn't feel ready to be doing favors for anyone, especially not someone she felt got her in trouble opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but stopped. She stood wide eyed, a tremble running through her, gaze fixed to a space somewhere behind Pouncival. At last she managed a weak croak, "Pounce..."
Brow furrowed he turned. There, looming in the doorway it's fur, a slick, greasy black, eyes blood red, stood an unnaturally large rat. On instinct Pouncival grabbed Etcetera and moved her behind him, backing up deeper and deeper into the room and the creature advanced on them, yellow teeth exposed in an unnerving grin.
"Get away from us!" Pounce howled, exposing claws and summoning a flightly courage.
"Oh," came the rat's voice, oily as his fur. "Please boy, do try something. It would make my job so much more interesting."
There was a brief second of tension before the beast lunged shattering it like glass. Etcetera gave a splitting scream as the rat took Pouncival to the floor, knocking her over in the process. Everything was a maddening blur of action and reaction, every one of the kittens' thoughts a twisting blur of disarray. The vile rodent straddled the male kit's waist taking fistfuls of fur he slammed the boy's head once, twice, three times against the floorboards for good measure, the child have gone limp after only the first vicious impact.
"Well, then" the rat sneered at the light tabby queen. "I guess that leaves just us, girl."
He had been creeping forward when, with a mix of stark clarity, self realization, and a subtle disjointment of the body, Gus having seen the attack rose and staggered to his feet rage burning through him. "Unhand my grandchildren!" he hissed sharply, raking claws down the monster's back.
The creature shrieked with pain and fury turning on him. With one arm the rat brought him down, in a crushing blow, coming to kneel on the cat's frail gasping chest. Without so much as a word he hunched down, a hand behind Gus' head pulling it upward, his sharp blade like teeth cutting and tearing away. Dropped the once venerable feline he turned back to the kitten licking the blood from his lips with a grim satisfaction.
Gus tried vainly to call after them, watching as the hideous thing drug Poincival behind him, an ally shouldering Etcetera who screamed and fought, tiny hands reaching for the dying elder. Trying to rise Gus flailed incompetently, before his hand found the wound. His throat a ragged mess of torn ligaments and tissues, blood bubbling from it, leaking down the front of his chest and polluting the ground there was absolutely nothing Gus could do for them.
His vision hazy as he surveyed what horrors he could through the opened door, Gus witnessed rats tearing friends and neighbors from their homes, burning and razing as they went. Weaping he watched as his own grandchildren were carried out of sight, fingers caressing tattered muscle and tracing the rigid pipe that was his trachea. It hurt, but not nearly as horrifically as one would have thought. Still fingering the area as his mind failed to fully comprehend the extent of the damage Gus gagged and swallowed, overcome with an urge to cough as blood slowly filled his lungs, but lacked the strength to do so, an iron tang filling his nostrils.
As his vision dimmed and body began to convulse in the throws of drowning, Gus could not help but cry silent tears and watch everything play out like a cruel scene. And what a scene it was, every player doing their part, each line given as though rehearsed for months, not a soul missed their mark. His consciousness wavering in his last moments the tom recalled with a bitter irony his most favored role. Even then, he knew, Firefrorefiddle the Fiend of the Fell could never have been so cruel...