Somewhere along the way, they'd broken into a run. As Rumpelteazer skidded to a halt and Munkustrap leaned over, panting, Skimbleshanks hurried up to him, toting an unprotesting tiger tom along by the scruff of the neck.
Catching his breath, Munkustrap unbent and looked up at the pair. "Mungojerrie!" he exclaimed in surprise, "you're back? Then where's—" He broke off, noticing multiple scratches, some deep and bleeding, others mere grazes, covering Mungojerrie's face and shoulders. Glancing at Skimble, he saw the older tom was in much the same state. He couldn't believe Skimble would have actually got into a brawl with somecat so much smaller and younger than he, but perhaps the situation was truly that serious. Perhaps Jerrie really had rejoined the henches (or never really left) and had tried something…though Munk had a difficult time imagining this frightened, half-grown tom he saw before him engaging in any sort of violence. He looked more pitiful than dangerous. "Skimble…what's…?"
"We both made the foolish mistake of trying to get between them," Skimbleshanks growled by way of explanation, jerking his head to the side to indicate something going on behind him. Munkustrap looked in that direction, but saw no one. Still, he thought he could detect the sounds of conflict nearby. "Just outside the gates," Skimble added. "And you," he snapped to Teazer, who was rushing ahead again, "just you keep out of it unless you wish to be torn to bits! No common sense, these kits…" As Munkustrap followed him to the back gates, Skimble tried to prepare the silver tabby. "Young Munk, I… I've never seen either of them in such a state. I don't mind telling you I'm at a total loss. Never mind which of them is in the right; they mustn't be allowed to murder one another over it! It started off as talk, but didn't take long in escalating and coming to blows. Shouting at them hasn't worked…Force hasn't worked…perhaps they will listen to you…And perhaps you can make some sense of what it's all about…"
As they proceeded through the gates and approached the two snarling felines, Munkustrap knew who they were before even seeing them clearly. Why did I never do anything more when they were both younger and more manageable…I knew it would come to this one day… He shook his head. Why hadn't he done anything? Why hadn't their parents done something? Why hadn't their own mother noticed two of her sons hated each other?
But no. Now was no time to be casting blame… Not when the stuff of nightmares was taking place right before his eyes.
For that was what it looked like: this was no mere 'wrestling-match-that-got-out-of-paw' or 'momentary-loss-of-temper.' Both Munkustrap's brothers appeared to have completely lost their minds. He'd wanted to believe Teazer was being melodramatic when she declared that 'someone would be killed,' but it suddenly seemed frighteningly likely that someone might. Neither Tugger nor MacVitie appeared to be seriously injured yet, but it certainly wasn't through lack of trying. Both had got in a few good slashes, but remained more or less on equal footing. Tugger was the larger and stronger of the two, while Mack was the quicker. Fortunately (in Munk's view, at least) neither was very much used to any sort of serious combat, and therefore both knew next to nothing about tactics. Indeed, in some ways they presented almost a comical picture. So long as Tugger kept lunging wildly at Mack, and Mack kept dodging just in the nick of time, probably neither would succeed in much of anything except looking ridiculous and getting nipped and scratched all over. But let Tugger once get MacVitie pinned, or MacVitie think to jump Tugger from behind and get a good hold of him…All it would take was for one of them to knock the other off-balance, and then who knew what would happen…
Munkustrap came as close to his two brothers as he dared. "Stop it, both of you!" he bellowed in the most commanding tone he could muster, on the wild chance that suddenly hearing a different voice might startle them into leaving off for at least a moment.
It only half worked. MacVitie's head whipped around at the sound of his brother's voice. Tugger took advantage of the distraction to come barreling into MacVitie and knock him to the ground. "Traitor," he spat, wrapping his paws around the other tom's throat.
"No," Teazer shrieked. "Do somefin', Munk! Jerrie, quit starin' like a dead codfish an' 'elp!"
"Help me, Skimble," Munkustrap snarled. The orange and silver tabbies, joined by Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer despite having snapped at them to keep back, each seized Tugger from behind and gradually managed to pry him off of his brother. Even then, they were obliged to keep ahold of Tugger as he kicked and fought to get loose.
"Let go of me," he panted, glaring wildly round at all of them. MacVitie lay where he'd been left, catching his breath.
"Not until you cease this madness," Skimbleshanks told him firmly. "Or must we cart you both off to the vet and have you tested for rabies?"
"Tugger, what are you thinking?" Munkustrap exclaimed. Now that the immediate danger was averted, it began to fully sink in that he had nearly witnessed one of his own family members murder the other. His knees wobbled. The silver tabby had to fight to keep himself upright. "Did you want to—to kill him?"
"You should have let me," Tugger spat. "But so long as you're here breathing down my neck, I won't do anything. Get your stinking paws off me."
Gingerly, reluctantly, the other felines let him go and stepped back. Skimble continued to keep a wary eye on him. Munkustrap went over to MacVitie, who was now sitting up, with Teazer's assistance. "Leave me alone. I'm fine," he mumbled.
"You'll kill him yourself when you stop to think what he's done," Tugger sneered. "Then again, perhaps not. Little Bubbles can do no wrong in your book, can he? But when I try to save all our hides…"
Ignoring his older brother, Munkustrap gazed keenly at his younger. "Vitie. What's going on? What's happened?"
MacVitie shook his head wearily, making Teazer exclaim in protest as she'd been attempting to apply pressure to one of his cuts with a discarded handkerchief she'd found. "Can't tell you…yet. Not until…"
"You'll tell me now," Munk cut in, exasperated. "At the brink of killing your own brother and you 'can't tell me anything'? You must be mad, the pair of you! And I'm finished being left out of these hare-brained 'plans' of yours that never work, d'you hear?"
"I'm only trying to protect you…"
"Then do everyone a favor and don't!"
"It's Ol' Deut," Mungojerrie blurted out suddenly, unable to contain himself. "We was—on'y a distract-shun."
Teazer stared at her brother. "Jerrie! Wot d'ye mean? Jus' wot've yew two been up to in that…that orful place?"
"More'n yew'n Quax've been up to'ere, apparently," Jerrie countered. "Well, 'course we've gone along wif wotevah they's tol' us t'do! Wot else c'ld we do when we'd'eard nary a peep fr'm any'un?"
"But…"
"Enough!" Munkustrap interrupted the twins' argument, his heartrate increasing. "Mack, you've got to tell me what they're talking about!"
"Get to the front gates," groaned Mack.
"What? That's not an…"
"The real trouble is by the front gates. We were just a diversion." His voice was cold, emotionless, as if he was weary of life itself. "All we had to do was not say anything…" he shook his head, glancing at Mungojerrie. "I thought Demeter would be the one to talk."
"Talk? About what? All she told me was that she had a feeling something would happen… MacVitie, you're not making any sense!"
"Get to the front gates!" Mack repeated, leaping to his footpaws with sudden energy. "Do you understand? There's no time for…"
"Then we're all going." He glanced over at Skimble and Tugger, then back to MacVitie. "Can't trust the two of you out of my sight for a minute. And you will give me a full explanation when this is all over!"
"If we live that long," the ginger tom muttered.
