Both of the Tom's two-toned ears perked up at the sounds of arguing outside his makeshift den. Was it morning already?
About a week had passed since the prisoner was brought into the Jellicle Junkyard. Despite the magic that Mister Mistoffelees had obviously placed on him, every cat's fur rose as they walked past the stranger. His own father, Skimbleshanks, had even complained to Munkustrap about the situation, but the Second-In-Command had not visibly faltered at any complaints.
George gave a great yawn and stretched his front paws out in front of him, noticing that his older brother Tumblebrutus was no longer curled up beside him. Skimble would be around to start their training, if he wasn't already. Instead of immediately rising to the occasion, though, the young cat sighed and stared at his paws. The world felt heavy on his shoulders as he accepted the fact that he would be subject to yet another boring day in the Junkyard.
"Hullo, George, are ye in here!?" his father's meow rang out against the scrap of a den they had built for themselves, and the patched Tom's ears bent down against his head.
"Yes, Father, I'm right here. I'm coming!" Before he could emerge, though, Skimble had already shoved himself through the metal ring, invading George's space.
"Come now, George, I expect better of you. How are you supposed to defend the Junkyard if you're sleeping until dawn? Come now, let's get goin'."
George obeyed without arguement. The first stop for today's training would likely be the forest. His father, however smart, was a stickler for schedules and timing. It was this single characteristic both his parents had in common: there was never enough time.
It wasn't long before the two Toms had leaves smushed up between their toes. The striped adolescent didn't like walking amongst the trees. Between the hot weather and the stuffy pollen, he could hardly keep his pelt clean enough for comfort. He glanced over at his father, who was hopping along merrily as if nothing ever bothered him.
When they finally stopped beneath a sprawling oak tree, George worried that he would soon sneeze his own ears off.
"We'll start here, Laddie." Skimble gestured toward the enclosed area with a single paw. "First, I want you to demonstrate the perfect kill. Ya may choose the kind of prey you want to go after, just know that I'll be keepin' an eye out for you."
George dipped his head to his father respectfully. He took a deep breath, then carefully stalked a tail's length away. His dirty-brown eyes scanned the undergrowth for a mouse or squirrel; his ears pricked to listen for scurrying in the grass. The nervous cat held his breath- a few pawsteps away, the tiniest mouse he'd ever seen was bumbling around in the weeds.
He immediately dropped into a crouch, his front paws extended as he watched the pink-eared animal. His belly brushed the ground suddenly, and he winced, hearing the dreadful crack of a stick under his weight.
George let out a cry of dismay, and the mouse froze. But it wasn't looking at him...yet.
His heart was thrumming in his ears. He bunched his muscles, preparing to spring on the mouse. The lithe young Tom leaped gracefully, yet, as his front paws landed on the little creature, a sharp pain stabbed at his toes. "Ow!" He jerked away, his tail between his legs.
Skimble's eyes were bright with concern. "Are you alright, Georgie?"
"It bit me!" he cried, shaking the blood from his paw.
"Don't fret, youngin'. That isn't anything a few licks shouldn't cure."
George pulled his paw away from his father's tongue. "I think we should go back to the Junkyard for Mister Mistoffelees. Maybe he can help."
His father's eyes narrowed. "No need for that, lad. Cats got along with much worse when I was your age." Skimble placed a gentle paw on his son's back, promptly giving the wound a rough lick. All George could consider was the possibility of infection, but he didn't want to upset his father by arguing any further.
"Come now, we best be movin' on or I'll miss the train!"
George followed his father to the next area: a clearing on the other side of the river.
"Alright Georgie, next I want ye to come at me with all that you've got, and don't give me any warning, understand?"
George nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir."
Skimble's stance changed quickly. His ears leaned forward and his eyes narrowed at his son as if he were a despised enemy. The wiry cat gulped, then prepared to leap at his father, his claws hidden to avoid hurting him.
His father let out an unearthly, guttoral noise, and George's balance was instantly thrown off. He responded with the best yowl he could give. Feeling that his resolve was hardened, he slammed into his father. The skittish youngster then jerked back, his ears low and his body cowering against Skimble's more experienced blows.
Moments later, the mock-fight ceased. George opened his eyes. Skimbleshanks' orange pelt was spiked with frustration. "What do ya think you're doing? How do you ever expect to be a Jellicle if you can't fight alongside your brothers!?"
His mottled pelt felt hot with shame. He was already fighting tears, and he wondered how pathetic he must've appeared to the other cat. "I don't want to fight anyone, Father...I don't know who I'm fighting against!"
"I know ye aren't so daft, George." A softer, calmer voice now blended against harsh words. "You know of Macavity's treachery."
The two were silent for a few moments. George didn't have to look into his father's eyes; he could hear the disappointment in his voice.
"I don't mean to sound so angry at ya, Laddie. It's just...I don't understand you, is all."
George glanced at his father, reluctant to see the expression on his face. "Can we go back to the Junkyard now? Please? I'm just..." he choked back tears, "I'm really tired."
Skimble nodded. For a few moments, George thought he noticed a look of regret on the older cat's face, but he wasn't sure. "Aye. Of course."
It was a long, incredibly awkward walk back to the Junkyard. All the young cat wanted to do was curl up in his den of metal and newspaper and go to sleep. And yet, he didn't want the other Jellicles to see his downtrodden expression alongside his father's obvious disappointment. When they got back, the two parted ways quickly, with no goodbyes.
But before he could get back to his nest, a familiar, kindly voice rang across the yard at George's return. "Maximus, darling, are you alright?" she asked, calling him by his Jellicle name.
He could not contain the smile, nor the gleeful yowl that escaped his lips. "Jelly!" The two swiftly embraced each other. Jellylorum stroked his blazed head with tender paws, grinning broadly. "Hello, my kitten. What's the matter, hm?"
George swallowed anxiously. "I went with Skimble for training again...I was bitten on the paw by this dreadful mouse, and then...well...I couldn't mock-fight with him. I- I actually yelled at him...I've never- I've never talked back before, but I had to tell him. I had to."
The golden Queen guided him away from the crowded Nursery and into a nearby tunnel where the two could talk privately. Still, George was embarrassed by his own tears. He curled against Jellylorum, whose silky fur was a needed comfort from the outside world.
"I'm terribly sorry for you, my dear. I wish I could shield you from everything this cruel world has to offer. But you know you must learn how to hunt and fight."
George's sniffles only grew louder.
"Look at me, Maximus." Jelly placed a hand under his chin and lifted it carefully. "I will always love you, regardless of what you can or can't learn. And your father...Skimble loves you, too. And- I know Jenny doesn't always show it, but she is so proud to be your mother."
George's sad eyes met hers. "Thanks, Jelly. I love you," he replied, rubbing his head against her chest.
She gave him a cheery smile. "Things will get better, I promise. You'll come into your own one day." The tabby female embraced him with a tight hug, then pulled away to meet his gaze. "That reminds me- Munkustrap was asking me where you were this morning. After I told him you'd left with Skimbleshanks, he requested that you and I meet him as soon as you returned."
George's eyes shone with excitement. "Really!?" If the Tribe's Second-In-Command was asking to speak with him, it must be important! "Let's go!"
Jellylorum grinned. The tabby youngster bounced around her as if his paws were shocked with electricity. For a moment, his face was taut with concern at how long it took Jelly to stand. His fears were wiped away as she followed without a single pause. He sped off, and she raced him without a second thought.
He was so consumed by this new game that he'd almost forgotten how close Munkustrap's sunning spot was. Jellylorum slowed, and George skidded to a halt. The last thing he saw was gold-and-black fur before he crashed into Demeter with a yowl of warning that came much too late.
The paranoid Queen spooked as she fell over. She whipped around to face him, extending her claws with laid-back ears and a warning hiss.
Before he could properly apologize, Jellylorum snagged him by the shoulders and pulled him back. The speckled cat placed herself between George and the flame-eyed Demeter. "Stand down-"
"Deme!"
The Queen was cut off by Munkustrap's troubled mew. "Demeter, Sweetheart, it's alright...it's just George." The naive little cat watched with curiosity as his striped leader placed a paw over Demeter's. Her gaze drifted to Munkustrap. The startled female's chest heaved with a sigh as she looked into his eyes. She exploded into uncontrolled sobs.
"I'm sorry," George whispered, his head hanging low. "I didn't mean to be so careless," he admitted. Hot shame washed over his pelt again, from his ears down to his paws, and he licked his chest awkwardly.
Munkustrap's voice was thick with unease. And yet, his words were kinder than George felt he deserved. "It's not you, George. Demeter's just...easily scared, these days." He turned to the pale Queen, "Come on, let's get you tucked away somewhere safe, hm? I'll make it as cozy and quiet as I can."
Deme nodded. George thought he could feel her eyes blazing through his fur. "Mhm. I'd- I'd like that, thanks," she managed through tears.
George stared down at his paws. They appeared miniscule compared to the female's strong paws and even fiercer claws. In the few seconds that it took Munkustrap to guide Demeter away, George wished Jellylorum would say something to ease the tension in the air.
"Thank you for coming so quickly. I have a job for you, George. I've let your brothers watch over the prisoner for a while, but they deserve a break. I would like you to help Mister Mistoffelees for the next few nights in guarding our captive. Tumblebrutus will go with you, as well; I've spoke to him already."
George's heart raced. "Thank you, Munkustrap."
The older Tom gave an amused smile. "You may go now."
Jelly brushed George's shoulder with her paw as the two left Munkustrap's presence. "I'm so happy for you, George. Munkustrap must really believe in you; he's given you a job fit for a full-grown cat!"
George's eyes were as big as pigeons as he turned to face Jellylorum. "What about Mother and Father? Everyone knows how they feel about the stranger being here. What will they think?"
Jelly huffed. "Don't worry about that now. They'll be much too busy to worry about it."
George's tail drooped.
Jellylorum purred. "Don't worry, little one," she told him, rubbing against his side, "I'll always worry for you, no matter how big you get."
Millions of stars burned in the night's sky above the imposing piles of junk. George and Tumblebrutus laid beside each other, blocking the prisoner from any possible escape. Tumble's muscles strained as he stretched, standing, and moved to check on Misto, who was guarding the other side of the tunnel.
George watched his brother's brown-and-white tail swish in the breeze as he walked away. When he turned to face the junkpile again, deep brown eyes were staring back at him.
He bounced back, stifling a hiss as he recognized Jemima, the youngest of the female kittens, with a mouse dangling from her jaws.
"What are you doing here!?"
She dropped the mouse, momentarily startled. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Pouncival. I...I need to speak to Sheni."
George's fur rose. "The prisoner? I can't let you do that."
He'd never heard such an indignant mew from Jemima before. "Please? I need to give him this mouse."
George sighed, glaring down at his paws, then glanced back up at her. "Okay, fine. But- if I let you do this, I need you to do something for me in return," he paused nervously, "I know you won't understand this, because you're younger than me, but...do you think you could help me learn? Learn how to hunt, I mean."
The tortoiseshell kitten nodded. "Of course."
He gave his chest fur a few anxious licks, then stepped to the side of the tunnel. "Go on. But make it quick; I don't know how long Tumble will be gone."
Jemima gave him a grateful purr, then disappeared into Sheni's hiding place with the mouse. George watched as she squeezed in next to the stranger, much to the darker cat's aggravation. "You said that if I brought you this, you'd tell me more about Macavity," she said, dropping it at the skinny cat's feet.
His narrowed yellow eyes glared at Jemima (and her mouse) hesitantly. Then, in one sluggish motion, he hunched over and sniffed it. Appearing satisfied, he bit into it in a ravenous fashion.
George listened carefully: "Why won't you eat when the others bring you food?"
He never looked up from his mouse. "Are you kidding?" he mumbled through mouthfulls, "they're smart enough to poison me without any trace."
He watched Jemima give a doubtful twitch of her long whiskers. "We would never do anything like that," she promised, but the prisoner didn't seem convinced. "Well...are you going to make good on your oath?"
Sheni nodded. He pushed the mouse away, gulping. "Now, I don't remember much about Macavity and your mother...I was very young," he explained, "but I was there the day she tried to run away."
The two Queens waited until Macavity's breathing grew shallow. And yet, one of the many quirks of his magical powers was his ability to become completely invisible whilst sleeping. They had planned to slip away in the dead of night, their dark pelts helping them blend in. However, as they slunk towards the end of the cave on soft paws, the crime lord's eyes opened knowingly. The gold-and-black cat tensed. The fur on her shoulders rose as she spun around, facing his hypnotic black eyes.
His laugh thundered throughout the cave. He planted his claws deep into Demeter's back. She let out a screech of pain as the blood welled around his sharp, twisted claws. The red female gave no warning. She launched herself at him, doing no more than pulling clumps of fur from his brilliant orange mane. He flung her against the tunnel wall like a piece of garbage. The bones in her wrists snapped on impact, and blood trickled from between her ears. Her little sister cried out to her. She begged for help and mercy, and he showed her none.
His claws were still embedded in her skin when the fire started. Demeter's cries erupted into screams of terror as he dropped her flailing body to the ground. She twisted and coiled like an injured snake, trying to get rid of the stabbing sensations that wracked her body. The fur on her head was badly charred. All along her typically sleek body were red, splotchy boils that stung with every crackling flame, sending needle-like sensations through her skin until all she felt was heat before her world went dark.
The red Queen woke to the sounds of her sister's bloodcurdling caterwauls. Macavity disappeared again, leaving Demeter's throughly-scorched body laying on the ground. Bombalurina rose and picked the smaller female up, shocked at how light she seemed now. Even at her protector's most gentle touch, Demeter screeched, swearing that millions of tiny claws were ripping at what was left of her skin.
"Tell me Jemima, have you ever seen what it tooks like when a living thing is thrown into flames?"
"Stop it, you're scaring her!" George hissed. He flashed his claws and faced Sheni with barred, white teeth. Although his body was shaking with fear, he was determined to stand up to the prisoner.
"Good," Sheni hissed back, his body swerving dangerously towards them, "She needs to be scared!" He turned to Jemima again, his voice growing into a yowl. "Isn't this what you wanted, to hear about our father? Doesn't it make you happy!?" He grinned sadistically, raising himself over the two kittens, threatening them with his claws. If he struck them now, they'd be in so much trouble...
"What's going on?" George heard Tumblebrutus yell, and leaped away from Sheni, taking Jemima with him. Her mostly-black fur helped her blend into the rest of the Junkyard, so much so that even George couldn't see her moments later, despite hearing her sniffling mews.
He faced his brother as confidently as he could. "I was just giving him a warning, is all," he said, puffing out his chest as he feighed pridefullness.
Tumblebrutus rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't even be talking to him. You're gonna get us both in trouble."
George let out a breath of relief. Tumble seemed none the wiser. "I won't do it again."
"You'd better not," his brother meowed thoughtfully, "I'm sure Munkstrap would be awfully angry if he knew anyone was making friends with our prisoner."
The fur along George's spine rose. "Yeah..." His eyes drifted to where Jemima had been, but her presence was now only a whisper in the darkness. A chill shot through his body, and he fluffed his pelt up against the cold wind.