A/N: This is miserably late, I know. I'm sorry - I don't have any smart-ass excuse.

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Life two -

Part two – the shamans' advice

Mercutio - I dreamt a dream last night.

Romeo - As did I. But what was yours?

Mercutio - That dreamers often lie.

- Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

Runda awoke with a start, shivering and shaking.

He looked frantically around at his small den, seeing only the thin, pale straws of daylight beginning to poke through the slats of the old crate, and hearing the sleepy twittering of few birds, a noise that provoked an answering rumble in his stomach. He rose, absently making an attempt to tidy his ruffled fur.

His windblown fur.

The ginger Jellicle froze, staring at

(I am you!)

his arm, not seeing the dark stripes. Maybe his fur could do for a bit longer.

Actually, he supposed, as he went to hunt, he shouldn't really be surprised. Stranger things had happened when he had been discovering his powers for the first time – for example, it had snowed midnight blue in the height of summer for a good twenty-four hours before the twins had helped him get it under control – so his fur acting as though it had been in a gale shouldn't have been as disturbing as it was. The memory of the blue snow made him smile slightly, though. The look of surprise, then anger, then resignation on his brother's face had been priceless!

It wasn't particularly that Runda disliked Munkustrap (he did) or that he envied him (not at all, not since the discovery of his powers), it was simply that, since they were old enough to have such opinions, he considered him to be …well, 'too much of a goody-two-shoes', was the polite way of putting it. He knew that his brother thought him rash, brash, and egotistical, and didn't much care. In fact, until Deuteronomy's youngest, Tugger, took more interest in his brothers' affairs -(which was unlikely to be ever – his closest friend at this point was an under-sized kitten called Quaxo, who, strangely enough, was the Twins only other pupil), he and Munkustrap were rivals in practically anything they were forced to work on at the same time.

Mostly, they simply avoided each other as much as possible – the fact that 'Martin' had permanent humans and 'Seth' did not and rather scorned most human company (to the point of that the instant he was old enough to fend for himself, he escaped from the human home that the three kits sometimes shared with their father) made this almost too easy.

In fact, the only thing they enjoyed doing together was sparring; they were so equally matched – at least when the younger didn't fight unfairly by using magic, something that happened rarely because they both were aware of the severe punishment the Twins would dole out to Runda if he ever did such a thing – that both siblings would tire before any real injury was done.

Runda knew his brother would be unlikely to ever want to inflict real harm upon him – the silver tabby was too much of a pacifist (or a least, as passive as a cat can be after being named second in command) for such a thing to happen

(red and silver fighting to the death / each one waiting to take the other's breath)

but sometimes he fervently wished their mock-fights would become something more serious.

A bird cooed up ahead and he went into stealth mode. It was times like this it was very difficult not to use his power to cause the pigeon to literally walk into his mouth; or maybe to walk above it and drop down on top (since levitation was notably the first of his powers that he had discovered, walking on air had long become as easy as walking on solid ground)- after all, the creature was so stupid he could always say that it was accidental

(then do it and be done with it, little fool, you sound like Munkustrap!)

but he shook his head mentally. The Twins had eyes everywhere and would have his tail if they found out. Which they inevitably would.

The ginger half-grown tom snuck forward, then pounced, the deliciously warm tang of blood filling his mouth as the bird squawked, struggled once, feebly, then died.

He ate everything except for the head, the gizzard and the lights, then stopped, staring into the dulled and glassy eyes of his kill. Something was new, something that hadn't been there before

(me, little fool – you're more dense that I gave you credit for)

like another being now inhabited his head, that prowled about in his innermost thoughts, and scrutinised them with poisonously green metallic eyes.

Macavity was there.

He had to get to the Twins.

Runda reached the den under the old brass bedstead at full speed, nearly running full tilt into one of the metal posts.

"Tantomile!" he yelled, "Coricopat! Are you there?"

"Runda?" A small black and white kitten came out from under the rusting frame. "Are you okay? You feel all spiky."

"I'm not, Quaxo. I'm really not. I think I've just got my fourth."

The little tuxedo-marked tom brightened. "But that's great! What-"

"Quaxo, no offence, but could you possibly piss off for a bit so I can speak to our tutors alone?"

Quaxo's ears lowered a bit, and Runda felt bad for it. "Okay, Runda."

He concentrated for a moment, then vanished in flurry of blue and white sparks.

Runda's tail and ears flicked back and forth for a moment in indecision, then he yelled for the Twins again. "Coricopat! Tanto-"

Peace, apprentice. And speak with your mind, not of it, answered Coricopat sternly, appearing like smoke beside him and cuffing his ear.

"I don't – I can't – I'm sorry." The young feline shook his head, trying to clear it.

Do not reprimand him, brother, Tantomile told her twin, appearing on Runda's other side, something panics him today…

The ginger cat nodded his thanks to the female, then told the pair about his dream, sparing no detail, as much as he wanted to, for he knew that the Twins could smell an untruth better than any other could scent a Pollicle.

"…and I know full well that it's my fourth name, but I don't want to take it. Isn't there some way I could change it?" He looked imploringly at his tutors.

They, for their part, looked troubled.

"The name chooses the Jellicle…"

"…the Jellicle does not choose the name."

"And as much as you fear it…"

"…your fourth will be a great one."

Macavity, Macavity, there's no-one like Macavity…the mocking tune wound its way about his mind, dragging with it the icy hook of premonition.

Tantomile gave him a sympathetic look, and put a gentle paw on his shoulder, apparently seeing his thought, and reaching, carefully, to see more. I am so sorry Runda…

((You are not, witch – you don't know what we are, but we see you, and you are AFRAID, witch, YOU ARE AFRAID!))

Runda grabbed his head in both paws, shaking as the mind-voice snarled through the den and the Twins recoiled, bristling in yes, fear, but outrage on the male's part – Coricopat was highly tempted, there and then, to clamp down against the much younger cat's mind, currently vulnerable in its explosively turmoil state, and end this now.

But his sister's shivering mental touch cooled him, calmed him.

Please, not here. Not now. We have to help him.

Sometimes Coricopat wished he had Tantomile's feelings of pity and compassion. But they were two halves of a whole – ying and yang. Dark and light. Male and female.

Attack and defend. And right now he did as his sister bade.

Later, though, much, much later, he would curse this decision, but not even when they worked together could they see so far into the future.

Working together, the Twins coerced the now whimpering young tom to a dreamless sleep, safe for now, from himself.

Well, sister, he told her, staring across red-furred, prone body, it's in your paws now. My hope is that you know what you're doing.

Tantomile closed her orange eyes, identical to that of her brother's but for the emotion behind them, and bowed her head.

I wish I did know, brother, she thought, privately.

I wish I knew.

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A/N: You know the jingle

You should know what to do,

I've written, you've read,

Now read and review!