A/N: Sorry for the long in-between chapter delay - we had a drill team comp Saturday with another one this coming Friday plus, of course, unbelievable homework loads from my *ahem* wonderful English and Geometry teachers...grr! -.-;; This chap's a bit short but hopefully I've got some more on the way shortly, so bear with me.
Disclaimer: Still isn't mine...
Mistoffelees sat miserably in the entrance to his pipe, his fur already dampening from the impromptu shower tapping just over his head. How appropriate, he thought sardonically, tears from the heavens to match the tears of my heart. His paw reached up involuntarily and traced the lines of the angry red scratches on his face before he caught himself and pulled it back down. Why did it bother him so much how Electra had treated him? It wasn't as if he had never been shunned or seen as the outcast before - until he had revealed his powers to the tribe, that was all he'd been. He ought to be used to it by now, or at least have built up enough of a defense to shake it off as part of a bad day and go about business as usual. But he couldn't.
The questions came to his mind unbidden, tearing down all the walls he had gradually built up over time and challenging him for answers he could not give. Was it all because of the magic? Was that why Electra had acted like she didn't want him around any more? Because he no longer had control of his magic? The thought persisted even as some lost forgotten part of his mind cried out angrily in denial. When the others found out, they would surely treat him the same way. He had always known that his abilities gave him a special link to the other Jellicles, especially the kittens, but he had never permitted himself to think that their attitude towards him would change without it. The sudden realization scared him, and he bolted out of his pipe straight into the rain.
Crouching in the storm, eyes wide and ears twitching wildly, he faced one of the toughest decisions of his young life. He could return to his cozy, insulated pipe and pretend that nothing had happened, or he could simply leave. Leave and forget all the indecision and the unhappiness, never having to look over his shoulder again and wonder if the snickers and covert smiles were directed at him. With one last gaze at the home he had known for the better part of a year and that was filled with so many memories of the group of cats he had come to love, and who he had thought had come to love him, he turned and made his way to the border of the Junkyard.
He paused at the border, wavering indecisively. What he was about to do meant he had to survive completely on his own, with no expected help from anyone. With a start he realized that if he made this decision he would never see his human pets again. Any of the Junkyard cats would know to look for him at his humans' house. He closed his eyes and clearly saw himself as a kitten, bedraggled and half-starved, with his fur plastered against his small frame from rain not unlike the rain now. His kitten-self mewed plaintively at every figure that passed his refuge under a soaked and dripping cardboard box propped up against the trash bin, occasionally sneezing at the droplets that formed on his whiskers. After his voice was strained and hoarse, the pitiful cry for help caught the attention of an orange tabby. The strange cat poked his nose inquisitively into the box, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "Well now, what `ave we here?"
He sneezed again, reaching forward tentatively with a tiny black paw out to the stranger. The tabby somehow felt safe to him, combining an air of controlled fun with the scent of cinnamon that calmed him almost to the point of sleep. He did fall asleep when the new cat scooped him up gently in his paws and carried him off, just managing to catch a muddled, "There, there now boyo, ye'll be safe and sound in me Jenny's arms in but a minute," before welcome darkness enveloped him.
Coming slowly back to the present, Mistoffelees gave a barely audible sigh. It was wonderful while it lasted, but he dimly remembered someone saying that all good things must come to an end. His breath catching in his throat, he took a step past the border, renouncing in his mind all claim to the Junkyard as his home, and made off down the grimy alleyway.
Disclaimer: Still isn't mine...
Mistoffelees sat miserably in the entrance to his pipe, his fur already dampening from the impromptu shower tapping just over his head. How appropriate, he thought sardonically, tears from the heavens to match the tears of my heart. His paw reached up involuntarily and traced the lines of the angry red scratches on his face before he caught himself and pulled it back down. Why did it bother him so much how Electra had treated him? It wasn't as if he had never been shunned or seen as the outcast before - until he had revealed his powers to the tribe, that was all he'd been. He ought to be used to it by now, or at least have built up enough of a defense to shake it off as part of a bad day and go about business as usual. But he couldn't.
The questions came to his mind unbidden, tearing down all the walls he had gradually built up over time and challenging him for answers he could not give. Was it all because of the magic? Was that why Electra had acted like she didn't want him around any more? Because he no longer had control of his magic? The thought persisted even as some lost forgotten part of his mind cried out angrily in denial. When the others found out, they would surely treat him the same way. He had always known that his abilities gave him a special link to the other Jellicles, especially the kittens, but he had never permitted himself to think that their attitude towards him would change without it. The sudden realization scared him, and he bolted out of his pipe straight into the rain.
Crouching in the storm, eyes wide and ears twitching wildly, he faced one of the toughest decisions of his young life. He could return to his cozy, insulated pipe and pretend that nothing had happened, or he could simply leave. Leave and forget all the indecision and the unhappiness, never having to look over his shoulder again and wonder if the snickers and covert smiles were directed at him. With one last gaze at the home he had known for the better part of a year and that was filled with so many memories of the group of cats he had come to love, and who he had thought had come to love him, he turned and made his way to the border of the Junkyard.
He paused at the border, wavering indecisively. What he was about to do meant he had to survive completely on his own, with no expected help from anyone. With a start he realized that if he made this decision he would never see his human pets again. Any of the Junkyard cats would know to look for him at his humans' house. He closed his eyes and clearly saw himself as a kitten, bedraggled and half-starved, with his fur plastered against his small frame from rain not unlike the rain now. His kitten-self mewed plaintively at every figure that passed his refuge under a soaked and dripping cardboard box propped up against the trash bin, occasionally sneezing at the droplets that formed on his whiskers. After his voice was strained and hoarse, the pitiful cry for help caught the attention of an orange tabby. The strange cat poked his nose inquisitively into the box, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "Well now, what `ave we here?"
He sneezed again, reaching forward tentatively with a tiny black paw out to the stranger. The tabby somehow felt safe to him, combining an air of controlled fun with the scent of cinnamon that calmed him almost to the point of sleep. He did fall asleep when the new cat scooped him up gently in his paws and carried him off, just managing to catch a muddled, "There, there now boyo, ye'll be safe and sound in me Jenny's arms in but a minute," before welcome darkness enveloped him.
Coming slowly back to the present, Mistoffelees gave a barely audible sigh. It was wonderful while it lasted, but he dimly remembered someone saying that all good things must come to an end. His breath catching in his throat, he took a step past the border, renouncing in his mind all claim to the Junkyard as his home, and made off down the grimy alleyway.