Madeline sighed as she reached under he desk for cardstock on Thursday night. Scrapbooking soothed her. Of course, being a teenager, she also had music blaring and multiple IM conversations going at once. The familiar AIM chime dinged, and Madeline put down the gluestick to glance at her computer monitor.

It was Mark, aka Pounced2Death. "Do you think he's back yet?" he'd asked.

"Who?" Madeline typed back (as 'Lectrify'ya).

"Solomon. It's almost the end of the week."

"Yeah, he's back."

"Don't you think we ought to go see him?"

"Yeah, definitely. ASAP," she typed out and hit enter. She had started to type, "Don't you think we should get – " when a soft rapping at her window made her jump. Speak of the devil...

Hastily, she got up from her computer chair and went over to open the window. "Get inside! It's freezing!" she exclaimed as Greg jumped over the sill and landed gracefully in her room.

Standing up, he muttered, "What, are you not glad to see me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Actually, I was just talking ... er, typing about you," she said, gesturing to her computer.

Greg strolled casually over and glanced at the monitor. "Hey, AIM! I haven't seen that in ages," he said, almost giggling. "I used to be quite the chatter, back in the day."

Madeline swatted at him. "Oh, come on!" she exclaimed. "One, I don't believe you. Two, you're not that old. And three, if so, then what was your screenname?"

Greg opened his mouth to reply, but then thought the better of it. "Eh, that doesn't matter. So what was Mark saying?"

Ignoring him, she sat down in her computer chair and typed out quickly before he could stop her, "Hey, what was Greg's sn?"

The reply came back, "Mr. Fleas."

Greg stuck his tongue out. "Okay, haha, we all think it's funny. Okay. On to the reason I came," he said, settling down on her bedspread. "Solomon is back, you know..."

"I know," she mumbled while typing a response to Mark. "Mark and I were just talking about that. We should go tomorrow afternoon, after school."

Due to the hectic schedule of all high-schoolers in the first month of school or so, the rest of the week passed quickly for Sarah and Brandon. Before she knew it, Sarah was standing in front of her locker on Friday, trying to decide which books she would need for her homework over the weekend, when Brandon suddenly appeared on the other side of her. "About set?" he queried, balancing his own heavy backpack on one shoulder.

Sarah nodded distractedly, wondering to herself whether she would really need her history book to fill out a worksheet (it was a heavy book, after all!). Finally, she decided she didn't, zipped up her backpack, shut her locker, and nodded confidently, "Yeah, I'm ready. Mom and Dad know where I'm going. We're all set!"

Brandon smiled contentedly. "Good," he mumbled. As they ambled through the corridors, he mentioned, "It's a good thing my parents are away for the weekend." Again, he mentally added.

Sarah thought about that for a moment, then asked ingenuously (as was her custom), "Why?"

The dog opened his mouth to answer, but soon closed it as he recalled that they were still very much inside a school building crowded with teenagers eager to go home for the weekend. Perhaps not the best place to discuss caninity and/or felinity, you know? Instead he muttered, "Just because," and hoped that would settle it.

It seemed to. "Oh."

"Yeah."

They walked the rest of the way to Brandon's truck in awkward silence. As they approached the big black 4x4, Brandon stepped forward, opened the door, and put down the seat back so Sarah could hurl her backpack into the rear seat. "So, what is it exactly that you want me to do again?" Sarah asked once they were both inside and fumbling with seatbelts.

He grimaced. "Well," he said, choosing his words carefully, "Just ... teach me how to change."

"But you can change already!"

"Okay, let me rephrase that: teach me how to change back."

"But you can do that already, too!"

"Okay, once more: teach me how to change back without the medallion."

"Oh. Yeah, that might be a little harder..."

That same Friday afternoon, Greg waited in front of the local high school for Mark and Madeline by his black sports car (this was just his everyday ride; when you come from a family as rich as the Olsens, you can afford a couple of convertibles). They'd planned that he would pick them both up and they'd all head over to Solomon's modest house after school. Solomon didn't exactly know they were coming, but he was always home anyway, so that wouldn't be a problem. Now Greg cast his eyes over all the students streaming out of the main building. Some he recognized from the tribe, a few he remembered from when he was a student himself, but most he had never seen before. He attracted quite a few stares himself; an oddly white-blond guy dressed all in black leaning on a black sports car was certainly something to stare at. But being a spectacle was only entertaining for so long. Greg was seriously considering telepathically toying with the short pleated skirts some of the freshmen were wearing when his attention was grabbed by a female voice calling his favorite nickname: "Devil!"

Greg looked, and found Madeline coming toward him. "Hey, what're you doing over here?" she questioned him, pretending to be angry, "I thought you said you'd be in the other side of the parking lot!"

"I couldn't find a space," he shrugged. Swiftly, he gathered her up into a fierce embrace and pressed his lips to hers. "I didn't think you mind," he said suavely, their noses almost touching.

She smiled; Greg could certainly be intoxicating when he wanted to be. "No, I don't mind," she mumbled happily.

"Oh good," he whispered, giving her one more peck. "Shall we be off?"

Mark observed the scene from the doors of the main building which he had recently vacated. He also observed the numerous stares the couple received (especially from female freshmen very jealous of Madeline at that moment). Under his breath, he mumbled, "This looks like a job for the Great Rumpus Cat! Too bad he's not here." In lieu of the great superhero, Mark sauntered over to Greg's car and announced, "Okay, I'm here! We can go now!"

Madeline looked a little disappointed, but they all climbed into the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Once they were a little way from the school and had gotten through all the usual chatter one can conjure up when one is thinking of such a weighty matter as dog-people, Greg asked from the driver's seat, "So what exactly are we going to ask Solomon? About the Pollicles?"

"We're not going to tell him we know one," Mark announced. "At least, not right away."

"Agreed," mumbled Madeline.

"So what are we going to ask him?" came Greg's response.

Mark grimaced. "Well, I think we should just ... you know, find out some general information, you know? See if we can find out how big of a threat Brandon is, you know?"

"I guess we could do that," said Madeline. Glancing at the road signs, she added, "It's a left up here, Greg."

"Hey, I know perfectly well how to get to Solomon's house!" replied Greg indignantly. "It's not like I haven't been there a million times!"

"Really?" mumbled Mark. "Actually ... I don't think I've ever been there before."

Madeline raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Well, you'll get to learn then. Because here we are."

"Wait a minute. He uses hairdryers to teleport?"

"Yeah, I think so! At least that's what it looked like. Maybe it was something else. But it really looked like he used hair dryers to make a big flash and a big escape!"

"... Wait a minute. How could hairdryers possibly assist in going anywhere?"

"I don't know! But they made a BOOM! And a BANG! And a big FLASH!"

Brandon shook his head amusedly. He wasn't sure what to make of the latest Jellicle story Sarah had just told him. Even after hearing the whole thing, he wasn't quite sure what the heck large rats, fishing nets, and hairdryers had to do with each other. "Ah, okay, Sarah," he said laughingly. "Let's leave it at that, okay? We're here."

Sure enough, Brandon pulled his truck into the garage of his family's home. He hopped out of the cab first and opened the door so Sarah could get out. She had a slightly distressed look on her face as she alighted on the ground. "You're really sure about this, Brandon?" she inquired.

He looked at her funny. "Of course I'm sure!" he replied. "What could go wrong?"

"Okay, if you're sure..." she muttered as they entered the front door.

"My, my, my, look who's come to see me," Solomon announced as he answered the knock at his door. "Please, please, come inside."

Mark nodded politely. "Thank you, Solomon."

"It's no trouble at all. Please, come and sit down." He led them to a comfortable sitting room, but went into the kitchen himself, returning with a plate of cookies. "Susan brought these over for me, but I cannot eat them. Too much sugar. Enjoy."

Madeline bit into a cookie politely. "They're quite good, sir."

He smiled the smile of a loving grandfather and said, "I'm glad. Now what can I do for you kittens?"

Mark, about to roll his eyes at the suggestion that they were still kittens, thought better of it and instead began, "Solomon, what can you tell us about Pollicles?"

Solomon raised his eyebrows. "Pollicles? I can tell you a bit about Pollicles. But why would you want to know?"

The three looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders simultaneously. "We're curious?" Madeline offered.

"Curiosity, eh?" he said grinningly. "I can sympathize. I've been quite prone to bouts of curiosity myself. But of course, we all know what curiosity did."

At that, everyone did roll their eyes.

"But enough of that. I can tell you some about Pollicles. What do you want to know? There's the basics. Pollicles used to live among humans as we do now, but - "

"I think we know that part, Solomon," Greg interrupted. "Do you think you could tell us ... well ... what were relations like between Jellicles and Pollicles?"

"Relations?" he asked, leaning back and scratching his chin. "Well, that's a tricky one. As far as I know, Pollicles and Jellicles avoided each other as long as we existed together. As you can imagine, creatures such as ourselves would not exactly mix. But it was never a problem to my knowledge. We were always superior to them in grace and concealment. Avoiding the Pollicles was not a difficult task. Although – wait, I think I may have a book. Let me go see if I can find it." And with that, he stood and left them to hunt through his modest bookshelves in the next room.

"Are you sure this was the right thing to do?" Madeline whispered.

"Definitely. If we're going to know what to do about Sarah and Brandon, this is the way to find out!" Mark whispered back.

Madeline cast a worried look around the room. "Maybe we don't have to do anything at all? They've been together for about a month! It hasn't posed any problems yet."

"Ah, here it is!" Solomon said, returning with a thick, leather-bound tome. "This is one of the oldest manuscripts of Jellicle history. This is actually what I was at the Vicarage for, if you can believe it," he said. "One of my dear friends was kind enough to entrust this book to my care. Now let's see if we can find any mention of Pollicles."

The three teens watched as the older man leafed through the book. It seemed to be more of a diary than a manuscript, containing records of the births, deaths, Balls, and general goings on of various Jellicle tribes in medieval times. There were lists and lists of names, maps of tribal gatherings, and even descriptions of various fur patterns. The kits could hardly contain their boredom as Solomon slowly checked the pages for mentioning of dogs.

"Solomon?" Greg asked when he felt he was going to burst. "Were there ever any magical Pollicles?"

The elder replied without even looking up. "Yes there were. Not nearly as powerful as yourself, Greg, or even the good Storkes, but there were some canines with some power."

"Ah," Greg murmured. "What sorts of things could they do?"

Solomon sat up now, thinking intently. "I believe they were most adept at applying charms, and sometimes casting curses as well. But most of that is simply lost to lore, considering we have very little record of it." With that he returned to looking at page after page in the book.

When Madeline felt she could take no more, and was about to excuse herself, Solomon suddenly exclaimed, "Now that's very interesting!" The three nearly hovered over him, silently screaming for him to continue. "There's a record here," he said slowly, trying to interpret the ancient handwriting, "There's a record here of a Jellicle tom who died in human captivity. It says here that he was captured along with a Pollicle man, and they were kept together in the same cell. The humans could not explain the cause of his death, for he was fed well, and the Pollicle kept there also far outlived him. "

"Okay, Brandon. So ... are we going to practice in here, or should we go up to your room?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could go downstairs. There's a basement where the pack gathers sometimes on the full moon. The entrance is through the bureau in the guest room."

"It was discovered later that their prison was very near to a Pollicle tribal gathering area."

"What kind of a place is this!? It's ... it's kind of hot down here! And the smell is overpowering!"

"Smell? I don't smell anything..."

"The only determination his tribe could make was that it was the very proximity of the Pollicle dog that caused the tom's death."

"Brandon, I can't breathe!"