Chapter Fourteen

The Dog Days of Romance

When Demeter woke up, she wasn't entirely sure where she was. Her back, where Victoria usually cuddled in the lorry hood, was chilly, and the tangle of arms and legs before her felt unusually numerous. Slowly her eyes blinked open, and she took in the scene. Munkustrap was stretched out on the blankets, mouth open in a soundless snore. Beneath her paws, his chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of sleep. That was where everything changed.

Asleep on Munkustrap's other shoulder, Victoria was curled into a ball. Her forepaw rested right on top of Demeter's, and her tail was curled demurely around her own ankle. Demeter felt a slow smile creeping across her face, stretching her cheeks and initiating a purr deep in her chest. What a thing to wake up to! A family in the making. Sniffing the air, she judged it to be mid-afternoon – plenty of time to sleep still. A chilly draft entered from the hole in the floor, and she cuddled up closer to her mate and mate-sister. Basking in the sun could wait.

Unfortunately, she was not going to go back to sleep any time soon. She had just pressed her face back into Munkustrap's shoulder fur when a hair-raising yowl split the afternoon apart, sending Demeter flying as the three cats leaped up in alarm. The three of them stared wildly at one another, the hair along their backs erect and every sense pointed towards the source of the noise.

By the time it had ended, however, Munkustrap had slid out of the lorry and disappeared. Demeter smoothed down Victoria's fur gently, soothing the younger queen's shakes before taking her tiny paw. "Come on, we'd better go see what's happened."

The two queens left the hood and scrabbled under the lorry to the open square. Several other Jellicles had gathered there, all of them still carrying the residue of alarm in their wide eyes. At their center, Munkustrap was listening calmly to a frantic Mungojerrie, whose panting words were just barely intelligible.

"It's Teazah, she's missin'! Oi dunno where she is, Oi just woke up and realized she 'adn't come 'ome yet! Blimey Munkus, you gotta 'elp me foind 'er!"

"All right Jerrie, calm down. We'll find her in a heartbeat, don't you worry," Munkustrap said, his deep voice acting like a relaxant among all the Jellicles. "When did you last see her?"

"At – at da ball, Oi thinks. When we all moved into da infirmary."

Munkus cast a weather eye at the sky. It was a light, frivolous gray, shot through with heavier clouds and pierced with the occasional beam of sunlight. It had rained heavily last night, but if it didn't rain today, they might be able to find her by scent. Feeling as though he had been doing this a lot lately, Munkus split the Jellicles present into four groups of two and called for Skimbleshanks.

The Railway Cat appeared in high dudgeon, a permanent vertical line etched between his brows. "Ach, the foolish ninny," he grumbled as he patted down a much-ruffled waistcoat. "Ah'm getting' too ould for this, so I am." Nevertheless, he sniffed around the borders of the Junkyard willingly until he came across a trace of his niece near the southwest border fence. Here the groups paired off, noses to the ground as they slipped through the late afternoon in search of the missing tiger queen.

Back in the Junkyard, Munkustrap checked with Jenny in the Infirmary to prepare in case of injury. He then rejoined Skimble on a firmly lodged microwave at the top of the Yard's southwest corner. The older marmalade tom was squatting there sourly, watching as the near-invisible scouts spread out over the land towards town.

"You know Skimble, you really aren't that old," Munkustrap remarked, a hint of reproof in his voice. "You can't use that excuse quite yet."

Skimbleshanks shrugged noncommittal shoulders. "Maybe so, aye. But 'tis she who's getting' too ould for these tricks. Teazer's a bright gel, and getting' on near five summers. 'Tis high time she settled down wit' a tom and ceased 'er tomfoolery."

Munkustrap stifled a smile. "Somebody got out of the wrong side of the blankets today. Did my message… interrupt you from something?"

"Nah, I'm jest ruffled about somethin'," the older tom replied, managing a small smile. Then he sat bolt upright. "But o' course! Ye've got two queens yerself, may'ap you can 'elp me."

"Getting involved with another queen, are you, you rogue?" the silver tabby teased. "I'm not so sure Jelly will like that!"

"Ah, 'tis not 'ow ye think," Skimble sighed. "I know Jelly certain sure, an' she told me from the get-go she dinnae want any high-falutin' princess comin' in a takin' 'er place. So I been true to 'er, straight as she flies."

Munkustrap squatted down to match the other tom's feline position, feeling a wash of understanding come over him. He had never intended to take a second mate. It was quite rare among Jellicles, and usually only occurred in a case of two sibling wishing to mate with the same tom. But somehow, against his will, the shy and demure Victoria had attracted him, not to the lessening of his love for Demeter, but shaping and enhancing it. Tradition said that Demeter, as his First, had precedence over Victoria; but in his heart, he loved them both equally. Now it seemed that Skimbleshanks was in the same quandary, only twofold. Demeter and Victoria were dear friends, and bore no grudge against one another despite sharing the same tom. But Jellylorum, as well as being strong-willed and often brusque-tempered, had a sharp mind and a solitary spirit. She was fiercely devoted to Skimbleshanks as her one and only mate, and would no doubt feel ousted and possibly betrayed by the appearance of her mate's wandering affections.

"Who is she, Skimble?"

The Railway Cat stared miserably over the now-empty landscape. "I cannae tell ye."

"Let me guess, then," the guardian suggested, settling down to his strategy with a satisfied wiggle of the haunches. "Is she younger than Jellylorum?"

"…Aye."

"But older than… oh, say Cassandra."

"Aye."

"Certainly not Tantomile, I should think…"

Skimble gave him an alarmed look. "Honest to goodness, Munkus, d'ye have any sense o' decency at all?"

The silver tabby grinned. "Ah, so it must be Jenny then, mustn't it?"

Skimbleshanks glared at his front paws. "Couldnae be anyone else, could et?"

"No, I suppose not." Munkus prodded the older tom with his tail-tip. "But what's your worry? They are quite close friends, are they not? And Jenny's hardly that much younger – no spring chicken, certainly."

Skimble huffed to himself quietly. "Well now, neither am I, eh?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're in your prime," Munkus replied stoutly. "Jelly's pregnancy is proof of that. To be honest, I don't really see the problem."

He sighed patiently. "The problem, my wee friend, is that Jelly isna so keen on me takin' another mate. An' I dinnae even know if Jenny fancies me! 'Tis only a small, secret idea I've been nursin' quietly. I dinnae want to make a fuss."

Munkustrap couldn't think of anything to say. He knew the older tom would merely shake off any empty reassurances, so he simply got comfortable on the rusted microwave top and watched the morning break over the Junkyard, Skimble wordless at his side.

The Rum Tum Tugger was not accustomed to waking up alone. Since the Jellicle Ball, he had had the pleasure of sharing his unusual Junkyard berth with the sinuous brown Abyssinian, Cassandra. But today as he woke, stretching the kinks out of his shoulders, he noticed a particular chill in the air that told him Cassie wasn't there. Tugger rolled over, feeling the blankets with languorous paws. They were still warm, as though his companion had only just left. The Maine Coon shook the last vestiges of sleep from his brain, and poked his head out into the cold.

"Yowp!" He darted back inside quickly, and burrowed his head back into the blankets. They had picked the perfect time for the Summer's End ball… it was cold outside! Reluctantly, Tugger lifted his head again and snuck one eyeball to the crack of the cupboards. The day was cold and yellow, with funny wisps of clouds muffling the sunlight and making the sky look like watered-down milk.

Tugger shook himself bracingly and slid fully into the chilly summer afternoon, muffling curses. Where had that blasted queen got to? Although the Tugger was not especially keen of sight for a Jellicle, he did manage to catch a glimpse of a brown tail disappearing into the pipe. Grinning craftily to himself, he climbed stealthily up the bed-frame and bounded across the top of the Square, barely making any sound as he made for the other side of the junk pile that kept out anything bigger than a small Pollicle. It was their fortress against humans and exterminators, and only those of small stature were able to penetrate it. Below, through gaps in the castoff items, the gray cement pipe meandered through the Junkyard towards town. Occasionally, where the cement had cracked enough to reveal the interior, Tugger caught a glimpse of brown that widened his grin and sent prickles down his tail. Giving Cassie a good scare should be the right sort of payback for leaving him to shiver awake in this blasted cold weather.

The pipe petered out at the edge of the junkyard, the cement poking through the chain-link fence before ending in a mucky drainage ditch. The Tugger was sleek and quick despite his voluminous mane; a flying leap catapulted him off the fence and onto the pipe lip, head down in time to catch the slender brown queen just as she was preparing to jump the ditch.

"Meep!" The exclamation wasn't a coherent word, just a muffled squeak. Tugger's mischievous grin collapsed as he looked straight into a dark brown face that didn't belong to Cassie.

"Who are you?" he said automatically, not stopping to think. Come to think of it, she did look a tad familiar…

"I-I-I-I'm Ex-xotic-ca," came the reply. The young queen's stammering threw him off yet again, and the Rum Tum Tugger hesitated. He might not be like his half-brother Munkustrap, walking around like a stick was up his behind, but he didn't want to alarm the creature any more than he already had. So, double-checking to make sure no one was around to see, the Maine Coon hopped the ditch and held out his paw with his most courteous flair.

"I'm sorry for startling you, miss Exotica, I mistook you for someone else."

Coffee-brown eyes stared straight back at him, oddly unafraid despite the stuttering and cracking of her soft voice. "Let m-me g-g-guess: Ca-Cass-Cassandra-a?" She accepted his hand and leaped lightly over, but pulled back as soon as her feet were on dry ground as though his paw was on fire. "D-d-don't worry ab-bout it. If y-y-y-you're l-looking for Cassie, she-she headed f-for her h-h-house a f-few minutes ago."

Tugger paused again, uncertain. "You know where she lives?"

Exotica shrugged, shy but straightforward. "I kn-know where e-e-every J-Jellicle l-lives. M-Munkustrap d-d-does not kn-know, b-but I c-consider my-myself a sentinel. Wh-when th-there is n-n-no one to take the y-younger ones h-h-home, I f-follow to m-m-make sure they g-get th-there safely. Wh-when T-Tantomile was re-rescued from M-M-Macavity, I sh-shadowed al-most everyone, j-j-just in c-case."

"Oh." Oh? What kind of suave, Tugger response is that? The Rum Tum Tugger shook his head briefly, trying to get back into himself. "If you don't mind my saying, so, doll, you don't look like you could put up much of a fight," he drawled. Much better. But his newly-returned panache and self-esteem faltered as the look in Exotica's eyes changed from semi-assured to confused and hurt. If I could offend her with just one innocent observation, then she needs to build up the confidence.

"S-sometimes one m-m-more s-set of claws is all y-you need," she answered quietly. "And haven't you heard? Rumpleteazer's gone missing, and Munkus is taking no chances. If you'll e-excuse me, I'll go offer my assistance t-t-to the searchers." Easy as jumping a leaf, the coffee-brown Burmese slid into feline form and turned away.

"Hey, wait!"

She stopped, facing away from him as her tail twitched impatiently.

"Do you… want an escort, or something?"

Exotica turned back to look at him, her cat's face unreadable as she answered him in feral-speak. "I can take care of myself. Can you?" Not waiting for a reply, she turned away again and trotted lightly across the street, tail high and ears forward in full cold-shoulder mode.

Tugger frowned to himself, folding his arms in front of his chest. "That is one rude lady. Now, I wonder where Cassie's got to?"

Rumpleteazer was sitting on a fencepost outside Jelly's residence, licking her shoulder, when Exotica found her. Something in Teazer's manner told her that she probably wouldn't welcome a lot of attention from the searchers, so instead of spreading the word, Exotica leaped up to a nearby fencepost and examined her paws idly. She didn't have to the wait long – the impulsive tiger queen wasn't a patient sort of Jellicle.

"Wat does ya want, then?"

Exotica turned her large, slow-blinking eyes toward her as though her grooming had been rudely interrupted. "Did you kn-know, Rumplet-teazer, that the wh-whole Y-y-yard is looking for y-you?"

Teazer snorted briefly, tail flicking in an irritated quiver. "Started by moi foolish brother, roight? Wanker."

Exotica's nose quivered at the brief and careless cuss word. "Y-yes – and g-g-good reason he had, t-too. D-don't y-you remem-ember what happened to T-Tantomile?"

"Oi c'n take care o' moiself," Rumpleteazer said jerkily. "Oi doan't need the 'ole Junkyard out on moi tail."

Exotica frowned, irritated at Teazer's manner. "Well you'd b-better get used t-o it, b-because they are right now, and th-they a-aren't going to st-top until they f-f-find you."

Startled by Exotica's outburst, the tiger queen glanced at her nervously. She knew Exotica a little bit from around town and occasionally the Junkyard, but she had never known her to be so demonstrative. But stammer or not, the Burmese was calling her out, and she left her post to bear down on Teazer slowly but determinedly. "Wh-why do you ins-ist on scaring everyone, anyway? D-don't you kn-know your brother loves you? Wh-what else would you exp-pect him to do but raise a hue and cry?" Exotica stuck her nose right in Teazer's face and widened her eyes in expectation. "Well?"

Despite her surprise, Teazer gave as good as she got. "'Ow would ya like a brother hangin' on ya loike a limpet all da toime? An' everyone expects ya ta be t'gether every minute of every blinkin' day, so as ya never gets a minute ta yerself? An' even when ya find yourself over da bloody moon for someone, ya never get a chance t' spend any toime with 'im, or anyone else for dat matter." The rage left her suddenly, and Rumpleteazer turned her face away from Exotica, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "Oi'm sorry, 'Xotti – Oi dunno what's come over me. Oi feels so strangely, laitely." She dragged an uncertain paw over one ear, apologetic. "Oi can't stand t' be around Jerrie no more, an' when Oi try an' be normal-loike, it just… rubs me da wrong way."

Exotica sat back on the narrow fence, shifting her backside uncomfortably. "Oi – er, I kn-know what you m-m-mean, I th-think."

Teazer lifted her head delightedly. "Ya do?"

She nodded slowly, but her eyes were quick to finally note their location. "This is where J-Jelly and her hu-human live, i-isn't it?"

Rumpleteazer's manner changed automatically. "Oi thinks so, aye," she replied guardedly.

"Th-that's curious," the Burmese noted quietly. "I w-wonder how M-Moonface is d-d-doing."

Rumpleteazer let her eyes drift out above the housetops that lined the other side of the road. "Oi doan't know, but Oi wish Oi did," she murmured to herself.

Rumpleteazer didn't know how Moonface was doing, but Jelly certainly did. The rainstorm had been so vicious the night before that Misto, Alonzo, and Shadowheart had stayed the night. The younger toms were curled up on a couch, asleep – the elder had escaped to the back porch as soon as possible, and was snoozing in a checkerboard pattern of sun beneath the back steps. Jellylorum, however, was keeping watch over her human's patient, occasionally checking his heartbeat and the rasp of his breathing.

Moonface was dead asleep in the cat-bed Jelly usually slept in during the day. His back was curved against the wicker frame, and his nose was tucked into his paws as if to hide out the light. He was almost too big for the basket – his back legs were flush against the opposite side, and one hind paw poked out of the opening – but Jelly noticed that he wasn't the hulking monster he had been. And it wasn't due to the illness, either. She had sharp eyes, and she had noticed Moonface's conscious effort to reshape himself. He had begun unusual exercises where most Jellicles wouldn't see him, transforming him from a broad giant to a lanky, long-limbed tree. She'd seen him watch Tumblebrutus covertly when the calico tom went through his routines, and later copy the gymnast's smooth movements. Moonface almost didn't look like a Hellcat anymore. More importantly, his body was in excellent shape and relatively healthy, which would make his recovery much easier.

It was nearly time for supper before Jelly bothered to look outside the window and see Rumpleteazer and Exotica sitting on the fence. They were both still as statues, the sunset creating a rosy late-summer glow around the edges of their silhouettes. The butter calico matron squatted on the broad window ledge and pricked her ears forward, alert and wondering what would happen.

She was so alert, in fact, that she missed the movements that began in the basket. Moonface had slept half the night and almost the entire day, and now his body was ready to wake up. First he stretched, the wicker basket creaking as his lengthy frame extended. Then, shaking his head awake and seeing the quiet comfort that pervaded the entire house, he stood carefully and made a cautious hop out of the basket.

Jelly heard the thump, and her head swiveled sharply in time to see Moonface sink down to his haunches, quivering. She bit back the impatience rising inside her, and quickly made her way over to the enormous tom.

"You should not be up, sir," she informed him tartly. "The medicine you were given will have made you extremely weak. You must return to your usual antics slowly, or else all the work that has been done on you will be for nothing."

Almost any other Jellicle, when faced with an irritated Jellylorum, would cower in submission. Moonface, however, merely blinked once. "Madam, I can feel the sluggishness in my body, but I believe that sitting around will only enhance it. Please allow me to walk about the house and get some strength back into me."

His formal address and inescapable logic forced Jelly to agree. "Very well – but only if Alonzo accompanies you."

On the couch, the catnapping guardian snapped awake at the sound of his name. His cheek fur on one side was pushed flat from sleep, giving him a lopsided appearance. "Wha…? Did someone say my name?"

Misto, who had been awake and merely resting, sighed dramatically without looking up. "Yes, you undignified furball. C'mon, the injured party needs our assistance."

Moonface was having a hard time keeping a straight face as he meandered through the rooms of the small house with his boyish compatriots. Misto and Alonzo were certainly a pair of cards. Misto, a seemingly serene and aloof young teen, had a dry wit as sharp as a razor that kept catching the older tom off guard. Meanwhile, Alonzo's silly humor and kittenish pranks played off Misto's sarcasm, so that Moonface had trouble staying on his toes.

Feeling a headache beginning to buzz behind his eyes, Moonface allowed his mind to drift from the conversation. His chest still felt a little sore, but he knew something was different. The threat of that fist that sometimes squeezed his ribs until he couldn't breathe had nearly disappeared. Whatever Jelly's human had done, it was curing him of his illness.

The thought of being free to run as far and fast as wanted against sent a jolt of energy crackling through his limbs, and on impulse, the black tom made a fantastic leap over Alonzo's head and onto the windowsill. Although his heart jumped in its rhythm to keep up with his sudden exertion, the black and white of his face split into a glittering grin of triumph, and his tail-tip twitched madly. More than ever since falling in with Macavity, he felt like himself.

Looking out on the damp, chilly day, his heart gave another little half-leap, and Moonface's smile faded as his ears slid back uncertainly. Bordering the old lady's front yard was a neat white fence. Perched with perfect balance on two of the fence-posts sat a pair of young queens; one was unknown to him, but the other was entirely familiar. A blur of orange-black and white, her tail skittering anxiously against the fencepost, was Rumpleteazer.

"Great Rumpus, you move fast!" Alonzo said right into his ear. Moonface jerked in alarm, hair bristling down his spine. "Sorry mate, it's just me."

Too embarrassed to reply, Moonface grunted noncommittally and turned his back on the window. "I think I'm ready to sleep some more now."

Unbeknownst to him, the younger toms exchanged a confused look over his back before slinking back down to where the others were gathered in the sitting-room.

Tumblebrutus woke up abruptly, head jerking up from the mismatched pile of fur. The Posse's lair was not very temperature-proof, and he immediately wished he could duck back down and burrow in the blankets with the other toms. Unfortunately, that was not an option. Today was his day to get supplies – Jenny had mentioned the larder was getting low – and cold or no cold, it was his duty to make the rounds about town in search of edibles. The tribe got most of its odds and ends from the Junkyard itself, everything from pretty trinkets to old nails to hold together personal hidey-holes; however, the cats who lived full-time at the Junkyard had to provide themselves with sustenance from other places. Usually Misto made the rounds, since he could contact others speedily with his magic or even transport things himself. However, Tumblebrutus had volunteered to give the magician the day off, and now he had slept late. He would have to hurry if he wanted to be back to the Square in time for the night's fun.

The sun was nearing the horizon as Tumblebrutus set out, trotting in four-legged form down Junkyard Alley. The Yard was tucked away in an overgrown corner of Redhill; residents barely remembered there was even anything there. However, occasionally someone would drive up to the Junkyard gates with a ragged couch, a couple of flat tires, or pieces of rusty machinery that would soon be fodder for all sorts of creative projects. The patched calico reflected that perhaps the Posse ought to get started on some repairs if they wanted their makeshift lair to be weatherproof in time for the autumn rains.

Tumblebrutus continued into town, making for the house of a good friend. Although he would never admit it to Admetus or Alonzo, Tumble had a soft spot for the goofy Pouncival, and he tried to be nice to him – at least, nicer than the others were. Pounce was a summer younger than the rest of them, and had always been good fodder for teasing or roughing up in sport. But there was a part of Tumblebrutus that resented bullying and cruelty even on a tweener level, born from the rough-and-tumble life he had endured on the streets as an orphan, and so he sometimes went out of his way to be Pouncival's protector.

As he trotted down the street, Tumble reflected that he hadn't seen Pouncival around the Yard for a few days. Not since the Summer's End Ball, in fact. Now that had been an unusual night. What with Moonface getting rushed off to Jelly's home, Teazer briefly disappearing before showing up again, and Jemima getting all cozy with Victor, things had been quite topsy-turvy in the Yard lately.

"I wonder if Pounce knows what's been going on," Tumble muttered aloud, pausing at the corner of Magnolia and Crescent before dashing across the street.

Just a few houses down was a kindly old Victorian house, built in the days when Redhill was still young. It was squeezed between two more modern homes, and its white-and-slate façade barely peeked out from its fringe of centuries-old oak and sycamore. Regardless, it was familiar to Tumble. With hardly a pause, he moved briskly through the tangled front-porch-hugging shrubbery and slipped under the deck, where a small hole provided access to the basement.

Just beneath the porch, he paused. The smell of wet earth clung heavily to his nostrils, and he sneezed a few times to get rid of it. His ears pricked, and his whiskers fanned forward to catch every brush and tickle that came near.

The signs were obvious. The under-porch smelled almost completely deserted. It was Pounce's favorite place to lurk when he tired of his seven-year-old mistress' constant affections, and his number-one escape route when his humans forgot to put him out at night. But as far as Tumblebrutus could tell, the tweener hadn't been here in a while – maybe not even since the Ball.

Did I even see him at the Ball? he wondered to himself. It was all such a blur.

Now more determined than ever to find his friend, Tumble nudged his way between a loose chunk of fieldstone and the rotted molding of a forgotten window. Just inside, he slid his front paws down the wall and made the leap to the floor five feet down.

Pouncival's scent was thick in the air, and Tumble had no trouble finding him. Under the stairs, several cardboard boxes were jumbled together, filled with the family's hand-me-downs and forgotten storage. Inside one, a hole had been chewed to reveal old shirts and sweaters. A tell-tale whisker peeked out, accompanied by one glowing eye.

Tumble stayed crouched on the ground, the hair on his spine prickling nervously. "Cut it out Pounce, you're freaking me out. Why don't you come outside, and we'll go for a walk?"

The eye blinked once, and closed. "Don't wanna."

That's more like it. With a fluid leap, Tumble made it to the narrow lip of the cardboard box and squeezed himself into the tiny space beside his friend. "Heyup. Scooch over, would ya?"

Pouncival, disgruntled at the sudden invasion of his space, obeyed. With a satisfied grunt, Tumble settled himself into the blankets and met his friend's eyes squarely. "What's going on?"

The younger tom looked away moodily, kneading the blankets with his claws. "It's Jemima and Victor."

That was all it took. Tumblebrutus bared his teeth in an almost-snarl, letting antagonistic chills run down his spine to ruffle his fur. "Bloody upstart. I knew something was up with him and Jemmi at the Ball. What happened?"

"I invited her to go to the ball with me last week. I was working on a special present for her to show her how I feel – a necklace."

The bottle caps, Tumble thought, but refrained from speaking aloud. He merely nudged his young friend gently, reminding him to continue.

"Anyway, I got there a little late, and then Jemmi was with Victor, so I left the necklace on the ground and went back home. I don't feel like seeing either of them around the Junkyard right now." To the older, street-hardened tom's embarrassment, a single tear slid down Pouncival's nose and faded quickly into the ragged quilts. The tweener buried his head between his paws and turned away from his friend. "I just wanna be alone."

Tumble got up and nudged Pouncival's head with his nose. "That's okay, bud. You come back when you're ready."

He was almost to the window when he heard his name being called. He did an about-face on the windowsill, ready to jump back down if he had to.

"Can you do something for me, Tumble?"

"Of course."

"Get that necklace, and make sure Jemmi never finds it."

Sadly, Tumble acquiesced. "I'll do it. See you around, Pounce."

There was no reply.